pieces of M.E.

I first fell ill when I was eleven years old. It has been quite a journey since then.

For many years, my life was at a standstill, passing me by as I watched on helplessly.

For many years, I wore nothing but pyjamas.

 

Somehow, against all the odds we soldiered on. 

There were times when the illness was all-consuming. But also brief periods of better health, when I was able to do things like my peers, all be it at a much slower pace: Study a French BA part-time at the University of Bristol. Spend 18 months abroad doing work experience as a part-time language teacher. Complete a language teacher training course. Meet and fall in love with a wonderful French man. Move back to France to live permanently.

In 2012, aged 25, I graduated from the University of Bristol with First Class Honours. The euphoria of that day, where I seemed to have overcome my difficulties and conquer my own personal Everest made me believe that anything was possible. That somehow, the mere fact that I had "done my time" with the illness and still managed to get a degree would mean that now was the time I would finally "grow out of it" as everyone had always expected me to...

Now at the age of 27, life seems to have once again ground to a standstill. The past twelve months in particular has been very tough, as increasingly poor health has forced me to stop working as a self-employed linguist for the time being.