Hello my lovely loves,
As seems to be my pattern in more recent years (since the pandemic started really), it’s been a while.
But I wanted to talk about this year’s Sickmas (or, for the uninitiated, the anniversary of when I got sick).
This year it will be ten years since I got sick. On the 1st November 2012 a happy-go-lucky (if very overworked) 26 year old woke up and could barely move, and she’s spent the last ten years clawing back whatever little bit of health and life she could.
And that’s sad. But… it also makes her kind of a badass.
Because it has been clawing. Digging my nails in and hauling myself every teeny tiny millimetre towards a better life.
And it’s not perfect, I’m still sick. I’m still housebound. But I’m moving in the right direction.
Part of the reason I’ve not been writing so much is because I’ve had enough energy to do more. Even some illustration work; something at one point seemed insurmountable.
And, yeah, sometimes I’m so tired I huddle up and become very small, and cry and mourn, because of course I do.
But I keep going.
I could not have done it without my incredible parents, and amazing friends, my kind counsellors, and supportive health professionals.
But I also couldn’t have done it without me.
I did that. For ten years. Through unimaginable exhaustion, and pain and frustration, I made things better. And I’m still not done.
So on the 1st November I’m wearing a party hat, and eating some cake. Because I deserve it.
(And if you’ve been keeping on keeping on, then you do too.)
H
