Not quite Catch 22, but a day when the CFS/ME is really telling me what it's all about... is one where I feel the least inclined or able to tell anyone else what it's like.
(C. S Lewis:'If only my toothache would stop, I could write another chapter about Pain.")
As a corollary, gaps in this (intended) daily blog may perhaps be read as comment on the effect CFS can have on the smallest degree of functionality, rather than as evidence of boredom or lack of commitment.
On the really bad days I won't be sat here, typing...
There's a bit of Asperger's inflexibility at work there which sometimes rates as a positive characteristic. I don't easily put down things I've promised others I'd do.
Today's not bad, so far: mild headache and a touch of a particular type of "brain-fog". Until I caught myself buttering the second side of my toast I thought I might have rested up enough to have earned a good day.
CFS is a condition where "beware optimism" can apply. A too-positive interpretation or hope often contains a mirage, leading unwary travellers into trouble.
For some that's going to be a non-intuitive approach that takes some acquiring; me, I've always had some suspicion of hope and optimism:
"I don't want to fly in a plane, or cross a bridge, that was designed, built or maintained by optimists. "
Meanwhile, Keep Calm and Carry On.
There's stuff here I want to expand on, but not today. The CFS is starting to tell me to stop and do nothing for a while.
And a good bean-bag is a friend: