To my sister

To my sister,

You asked today why I was so tired. You didn’t ask me… you asked our mum. She told you the truth, I probably wouldn’t have.

She told you I had had a big day. I looked after my nephew (your son) for about an hour at the mall (in the playground for most of it-he played I followed). And then the afternoon was spent at a park standing around with our cousin, her husband and their 3 children.

Mum said it wasn’t like I had run around but it still takes its toll. You’re response was “I know that…” the unspoken ‘but’ hung in the air.

But what?

There shouldn’t be a ‘but’, you should know and understand and accept without question. Its been affecting my life, and yours and our parents’ and your son’s lives for long enough.

I am not angry, or upset. I find that when the ME flares and the brain fog descends I have little room for emotions. The pain and fatigue fill up all the spaces in my soul, I am lost to the storm… the little energy I have I use it to be defiant and shout “do your worst” as I am pelted by hail and rain. Buffeted back and forth by strong winds that howl… this is all metaphorical.

I am in reality sitting on the sofa, zoning out because I cannot focus. The metaphor is better, in a way.


Your sister


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