I’ve just got back from a wonderful few days in the welsh countryside with my lovely man. I hadn’t been feeling well for about a week before we went, but I felt well enough to go and we had planned to mainly do nothing, except a bit of walking if we could, so it seemed like a good idea.
Actually, it was a very good idea. A few days away from the hustle and bustle of life, just the two of us in the middle of nowhere. The chance to switch off from everything was amazing, and I’m so lucky to have opportunities like that. I follow many chronic illness blogs and I know that for many with chronic illness, trips away like that would be absolutely impossible, so I am grateful that I still have some freedom.
Nonetheless, there is, as always, a twinge of sadness that my illness still controls so much of my life. I still felt sick for most of the time we were away, and once in a while it would be nice to just be able to enjoy normal experiences like a trip away without feeling crap. We went for a nice walk, about 5 miles, on our first day there, which was so beautiful, but it definitely tired me out and I felt pretty bad in the evening. I’m such a go-getter, an active person, and I’ve adored the outdoors since I was a little girl. I remember as a small child jumping at the chance to help my Dad in the garden, and I think that love of the outdoors will be a firm part of who I am until the day I die. Nothing much makes me happier than the countryside. So in an ideal world, I would have spent the entire 3 days of our trip outdoors in one form or another.
I look back on who I once was. Many years ago, when my health was in a better place, I would have been up at the crack of dawn, going for a cross-country run, coming back for breakfast before heading out for a 10 mile walk, before heading out for a nice dinner and a few drinks. On this holiday, however, a gentle 5 mile walk was pretty much all I could manage.
Of course, I know that I am lucky I can walk 5 miles. There are many people in the world who are not so fortunate, and there are a multitude of reasons why people can no longer do things they used to once love, of which chronic illness is just one. I know these things, and I remind myself of how lucky I am every day. But sometimes, the sense of loss all gets a little too much and I roll into a big hole of self-pity.
Unfortunately today is one of these days. We were driving back from Wales and we were both feeling a little hungry, so we stopped at a service station to try and grab a snack. My boyfriend found himself a couple of tasty morsels, but there was nothing gluten & dairy free there for me except a packet of rice cakes. I bought the rice cakes. I actually quite like rice cakes, but it wasn’t quite the tasty wholesome brunch I was hoping for, and seeing my boyfriend’s scotch egg (God I LOVE scotch eggs!) was enough to push me into a full-blown wallowing, self-pitying tantrum.
It just feels that illness has taken so much from me, and that packet of rice cakes was all it took for me to reflect on all the things I have lost. Independence, fertility, the ability to pop out for a meal without having to trawl through online menus first, being able to stay up late without worrying how sick it’ll make me the next day, alcohol, cake, waking up for an early-morning run…. etc etc.
I always try my damnedest not to let illness rule my life. Quote from the front page of this blog: ” I do not accept that I should lie back and let Epstein Barr define me”. But sometimes it feels like I am fighting a losing battle. As time goes on I feel like it rules more and more of my life. It is on my mind every second of every day. The first thing I think when I wake up each morning is, how sick do I feel today? The last thing I think when I go to bed at night is, how sick will I be tomorrow? Every single decision I make – career choices, whether to go to yoga class or go home and rest, what to have for dinner, what time to go to bed, whether to make plans with friends – is made with chronic illness in mind. I am so sick of the control it has not only over my body, but my mind, and actually my entire life. I fear that the day is just around the corner when I will be entirely defined by illness. That, if asked to describe me in one sentence, my family and friends would say “she’s the one who’s always sick”.