This week is proving incredibly hard for me. I hadn't really thought about it that much until it arrived, but 11th January 1991 was the day I can first pinpoint as totally changing the rest of my life... it was the day I came down with a viral infection that lead to me getting M.E. and my other health problems.

We can all wonder 'what if' and in all honesty, I rarely do think 'what if I hadn't gotten sick then... what would my life be like?' I just know that, for sure, my life would be a lot more 'normal' than it is now, but I certainly wouldn't be the deep-thinking person I am now. I feel there is no point in dwelling on the possibilities which I lost out on or will never get to experience, so I try and look at the things I have achieved. For most of the year I manage to do this, to not dwell on the bad stuff and definitely to not cry...

I hate crying... for me crying leads to feelings of shame... feelings that I shouldn't be expressing this emotion... that it is a sign of not coping and is something to hide and reserve for the most private moments... alone. So last night as I got into bed and lay there in the dark... I shed a tear for me, to indulge in that emotion and feel that it was allowed... for I am grieving, for all that I have lost and all that I will never be able to experience.