Did I do this to myself?
I have ME. I was diagnosed when I was 16 years old. A time when I hated my life, hated having to go to school every day to spend seven hours with people I didn’t like and who didn’t like me. So when I got glandular fever and had an excuse to stay at home, hide from the world, I took it. And I loved it. I was exhausted, in pain, unable to leave the house for months, but happier than I’d been in years. So I didn’t want to get better. My mum would give me paracetamol to take and I’d empty out the capsules in the bin. Even when I was starting to feel better I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to have to go back to my old life, my unhappy life. And without realising it, it became impossible for me to go back to my old life, my old energy levels. My body forgot how to be able to do things, that it was possible to do a full day of activity and not ache all over, get blurred vision, burst in to tears.
I don’t know if it’s even possible that I caused this. I could be torturing myself over nothing. But until I’m better (if that day ever comes) I won’t ever be able to stop wondering if I had wanted to get better, would I have done?
Day 17 of the 30 Day Writing Challenge.