I step into a room filled by people with whom I once had shared lives and laughter; rejoicing and commiserating over life’s vagaries, hiking through beautiful trails, examining deep truths, and sharing heart-to-heart conversations.

Yet here I am—a ghost, briefly made solid. Lots of well-intentioned “hellos, glad to see you, haven’t seen you for ages, you look well”. But I remain just that—a specter, a phantom, a fleeting reminder to others of my existence, before vanishing from their lives. But I am an imposter, using nonexistent energy to set against the silence; diminished and made invisible by innumerable years of a shattering, despicably unrelenting energy-limiting illness. Marginalized, an apparition. Gone in all but faded memory, yet still alive.

I live a small life, lacking the grandeur of travel and adventure or even daily walks; missing the crucible of friendship and neighborly bonds, the close friends with whom I share everyday life, and the crucial intimacy that comes with having the ability to be physically present.

I am a ghost.

Unseen by most, missed by few.

I am a ghost.

#Myalgic Encephalomyelitis #ME/CFS #MillionsMissing.

“There are people living the severe version of the condition you have heard referred to as Myalgic Encephalomyelitis and what they endure is unspeakable and heroic. Some, with difficulty and extraordinary tenacity, manage to write about it, speak the truth.
When they do, the words are song-like. They give utterance to something mysterious: how we can be in seemingly impossible conditions, maligned and forsaken, and yet bear witness.
Lament is the purest form of song I know.
Greetings to y’all this newly starlit Advent – and to you, the singers: I listen, I hear, I lend my voice.”

https://readingthesigns.blogspot.com/2011/12/beyond-dry-white-whine.html

“Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.” – Desmond Tutu