CFS took so much from me
I’ve been wanting to share this somewhere because I honestly don’t know where else to put it, and I’m hoping maybe some of you will understand.
For about four years, I was frantically trying to figure out what was happening to me. I was constantly researching, going to doctors, having tests done, and searching for answers. I’ve had COVID five times and two vaccines, and somewhere along the way my health and quality of life completely changed.
I didn’t understand what was happening for a long time. I just knew I could do less and less.
Eventually, I stopped doing things. I stopped going places. I isolated myself and shut almost everyone out because I simply didn’t have anything left to give. From the outside, I’m sure it looked like I was becoming angry, distant, or difficult.
But my body was disappearing before my eyes.
My husband didn’t understand what was happening either. He thought I should still be able to do the things I had always done...take care of the home, him, our pets, and everything else. I became increasingly angry and resentful because I felt like no one understood how hard it was just to get through an ordinary day.
I lost so much weight that I was accused of being on drugs. I wasn’t. My health was plummeting.
There were already problems in our marriage, and those problems continued to grow. Seven months ago, I asked for a divorce and left. We had traveled so much for his job that I don’t really know anyone where I live now. I work part-time from home, but even that is barely manageable some weeks. Every week feels like a fight just to pay the bills and keep going.
Now something has happened that I didn’t expect.
I’m slowly healing from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I’ve fought with everything in me to get even a little bit of my life back. I pushed almost everything and everyone aside because I had to focus on surviving and trying to heal.
But as I’ve started to feel a little better, I’ve also started realizing how unhappy I am with the life I’m living now.
And that realization hurts.
I tried to postpone my divorce because I started questioning everything. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to postpone the hearing, and my divorce was finalized this past Monday.
That has been incredibly difficult to process.
I reached back out to my ex-husband and apologized and tried to communicate. He is willing to communicate, but so much of what I hear back is about how mean I was and how badly I hurt him by leaving the way I did.
And I understand that I hurt him. I can take responsibility for the things I did wrong.
But what I still wish he understood is that I wasn’t leaving because I didn’t care.
I was suffocating.
I was exhausted beyond anything I knew was possible. My body was failing me while I was still trying to take care of everyone and everything around me. I desperately wanted time to rest, to breathe, and to figure out what was happening to me.
At the time, I felt like our relationship had become toxic and that I had no choice but to get away. Now I sit here and cry because I miss the life I had. I miss my family. I miss having people around me. I miss the person I was before all of this.
I’m angry that this illness took so much from me. I’m angry that I spent years trying to figure out why I was becoming someone I didn’t recognize. I’m angry that I pushed people away because I had no capacity left. And I’m angry that I made decisions while I was so sick and didn’t understand what was happening to my body.
I don’t know what happens next. I don’t know if some things can be repaired or if some things are simply lost.
I just know that I fought so damn hard to heal, and now that I’m beginning to heal, I’m finally able to see how much I lost along the way.