What the Internet Needs is More Complaining

So, maybe I'll start blogging again. After more than a year, a stranger on the Internet reminded me of its existence, and I went back to read what I had been publicly thinking a year ago. I had been housebound for a few months back then, and I was trying to get a handle on the idea that my seven-year-long illness wasn't going away. I was angry and desperate, but I was also sincerely trying to find peace and acceptance. I was also trying to prove that I had it together, that despite physical challenges I, unlike you other Internet sickos, was using my pain as a platform for astronomical spiritual growth and one day I would be healthy and free and look back on that time that I healed myself from CFS by fearless blogging.

Well, needless to say, fuck all that. I'm starting again because a year later, I'm still sick and I haven't come to terms with it. My world has gotten very small and I need more than anything to make it bigger. I didn't want to make my home in the Internet community of the chronically ill, full of desperation and indignation and not-funny black humor, but here I am.

 So read my fearless blog, by which I will heal myself of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome! It is now the angst-filled livejournal that I was too shy to keep in Jr. High. My fifteen-year-old self is Editor-in-Chief, and there is no amount of rage, jealousy, or self-pity that doesn't make her feel more articulate. I don't want to give anyone advice anymore. The idea of being a wise, good invalid makes me nauseous. My goal for this new blog is to be mortified with embarrassment when I read it in a few years. I will tell you all the shit that I am not serenely okay with about being a 29-year-old invalid. I will try to make it interesting, but no promises. I will feel better for having written it, and you, for having read it, might feel much worse. Is it okay, to make people feel bad because I feel bad? Well, you can go outside and take a walk, you healthy motherfucker, I don't pity you. Or, if you're one of us, how could I possibly make you feel worse than you already feel?

Thus absolved, I will continue. Stay tuned for unhappy excavation of my fascinating life.