A few weeks ago, I became the last of the adult kids in the house. And now it’s just me and my parents. Just me, the disabled and sick 26 year-old, and my parents, whose almost-retirement years I can’t help but feel guilty for fifth-wheeling sometimes.
My friends are getting married and having babies. My friends are working jobs full-time, some of which are dream jobs and some of which they hate. My friends can do “normal” things, like maintain their own apartments, go to the store, and go on hikes in their free time. And then there’s me. I live with family and haven’t been able to go on a proper walk in over two years. I just lost an entire week of work because I was in another ME crash that left me too sick and weak to sit up. I might like to find a partner someday, but if I’m honest, I worry no one will want me if I stay this sick.
Every time I have a bad ME crash, all of my worst fears about my future and deepest insecurities about the present come rushing back. In the hours when I’m in pain all over my body, completely exhausted, and hooked up to an IV, I start to think maybe this is all my life will ever be. I forget everything I’ve accomplished and everything I am apart from my illness––and I am so many things besides sick.