Balance.

I've always admired ballet dancers. They have such an effortless sense of grace and poise. They're beautiful. I never did try ballet, and I gave up on gymnastics at an early age. It's safe to say I can be a little clumsy. I've wiped out on the stairs at my high-school, walked into walls I've been surrounded by my whole life, and tripped on invisible obstacles. One of the battles to stay optimistic is learning how to balance. Yes, some of this balance is literal. I have to be careful not to over exert myself. The spells of vertigo send the room spinning, and me toppling to the ground. Right now, I'm waiting for the next round of nausea to send me over to the bathroom. This feels like the first day of a long summer.
But I believe we, as humans, are more powerful than we think. We're stronger than we realize. Maybe it's just another humanistic theory, but it makes sense to me. Our minds are powerful and our wills are strong. I keep saying I have to "make a decision" everyday. That statement still holds true. Sometimes, I have to be more conscious about this choice of happiness. I've read that it takes years to learn to adapt to this disease. I'm still only looking at months. I've already accepted the fact that I might not ever feel the way I used to. I've already changed my everyday lifestyle and activities and hobbies to accommodate to my health. My body doesn't listen to my complaints anyways. Whining can even make me more aware of how crappy I'm feeling. But I'm very thankful for this mindset I have now. I know some my friends' brains turn to mush when I try to explain to them what's going on, or they feel uneasy with my lame jokes. But they still listen and continue their amazing support. I'm so appreciative when they share with me what they've learned about M.E/CFS! It makes me feel like they're truly trying to understand. I'm sure my parents are driven crazy when I don't want to talk about how I'm feeling. Sometimes I'd rather sit in silence than be surrounded by the familiar family chaos. And other times, I'd rather drown out the symptoms with company. So while some of this never ending struggle of stability is simply keeping my two feet on the ground, most of this battle of balance is in my head and the decisions I have to make.
If I push myself, is it worth the consequences? Balance. I won't let this stupid disease ultimately define me... but what am I supposed to do about this everyday? Balance. Where is my say in this? It's like a teeter-totter in my head. Or a pendulum swinging back and forth tracking this wasted time I'm spending in bed. The days and nights are long, but I feel the time slipping away from me. Fall disappeared into winter and somehow it's spring again.
What happens if I lose balance? I'll fall. Although I don't have a choice with this disease, I have a choice over how I react to it. I don't want to fall. Sometimes, I get pretty down with the thought that this isn't just a temporary situation... I know it can get much worse, too. I always lose the "what if" game in my head... so I usually refrain from playing it. I'm trying to become comfortable in everyday life with very un-comforting circumstances. Remaining in a state of equilibrium is hard when you've got seemingly inequalities from everyday life thrown at you, but it's not impossible. Life is still great. We're surrounded by amazing grace. I'm sooo much more appreciative of things now. Balance is in the details of the little things in life, too! I'm in such a beautiful mess. They call this the "invisible disease" for a reason. I hide it as best as I can. Not because I'm super strong or fearless, but because I'm actually trying to hide it from myself, too. I've got a lot of everyday symptoms that are becoming almost "normal" or expected! It's like, it's just me. It's just M.E. Again, with the balance. I wish I was naturally graceful. I'm sure every little girl wants to be a ballerina at some point. They move with such ease. And you know their breaking toes are being forcefully crushed into the ground, but their faces never show any pain.