Some Language Skills of Mine

Remember how I said that I can't call myself 'linguistic' simply because I can't attain levels of perfection when it comes to my grammatical knowledge, vocabulary or pronunciation?  Well, today I'm going to dare, to dare to start thinking of myself as someone with 'linguistic skills ' or 'linguistic aptitude'. This is the evidence that I am... Continue Reading →

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Welcome to the Real World

When speccy spoke of pacing the other day, my entire being sighed and nodded knowingly in agreement.  You see, pacing is something of a ‘buzz’ word in chronic illness.  Although it’s not some magical cure-all or panacea, it does rather let the ‘experts’ off the hook.  The responsibility is handed firmly back to the patient,... Continue Reading →

Pursuing Perfection

Pursuing perfection is something like pursuing cities of gold or fountains of eternal youth.  For the most part, these idyllic utopian states are just figments of the imagination, a fantasy that drives us mad in its impossible pursuit. However, I do believe in trying.  Trying is something like that expedition, that journey in search of... Continue Reading →

That Mongrel-Beast Actually Causes Quite a Few Problems

My usual technique for dealing with illness is to ignore it.  Well, it might just go away.  And I'm used to blaming the psychological for a lot of my problems, for example, I say, 'I'm lazy' or 'I can't be bothered'.  But I'm growing in awareness, both of my main physical condition (ME) and of... Continue Reading →

Am I Setting Myself Up for Failure?

Goals are targets.  Targets are things that get missed. Sitting myself down and deciding what I want to plan for and aim for just seems utterly pointless to me.  I know that I will fail and having a list etched in black and white as tangible proof of just what I set out to do... Continue Reading →

Patchwork

Sometimes, I think, patchwork can sound shabby, the idea of cobbling together something, often utilitarian, from leftover scraps.  But patchwork is much more than that.  For example, a patchwork quilt, even though humble in origin and purpose, is so much more than the sum of its parts.  Because, you see, those aren’t leftovers; they’re souvenirs,... Continue Reading →

Psychosomatic is Just an Excuse

My old (though not in age) doctor (our GP, I don't get to see a specialist) started out believing that ME was just another name for hypochondria.  I like him though and we have a good working relationship (ie I go in and ask for a prescription or a referral and he gives it to... Continue Reading →

How My Garden Grows

As you all know, I've been growing my first crop of confidence.  I planted a few seeds here and there, sometimes without even realising that they were going down and taking root.  I don't know if they're ready yet for harvesting, metaphorical crops are like that, it's always a bit difficult to tell with them. ... Continue Reading →

In which I Attain New Levels of Screwy but Believe it’s Real

As many of you know, I have ME.  A little while ago I wrote a line (‘I even feel a little guilty because I know that so many of the people around me have real, genuine problems’) that some people may have taken to mean that I don’t believe that ME is real.  If you... Continue Reading →

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