By CFS Untied, Adventures In Illness And Politics:
My morning routine is to get up early, make coffee, walk the dog. Then, back inside to sit at my kitchenette with the curtain drawn open, and to quietly enjoy that coffee along with a glorious view and the relative silence of the early morning.
The roadrunner that has taken up residence under my RV comes out and cocks his head, shooting me the curious one-eyed stare that he gives me every morning, and I look back at him gently and smile as I sip that treasured first cup. He scuttles off to tend to his daily routine, and I ease myself into mine.
I seldom crack open the laptop before first coffee is complete. The magic of the morning is uninterrupted by the chaos of CFS advocacy. It’s a must, a reconnect to the life force, a reminder that my whole world is not CFS. It’s a refusal to let my illness rule. It’s a part of my life, but it isn’t my life. I refuse to let it be.
For the past several months, though, a sidenote to CFS politics has crept into my morning thoughts. The term “unity” and what it really means has been a subject I’ve dwelled on, mulled over, stirred into my coffee in increasing doses. It’s a word that, when applied to situational tactics, has to have considerable background and back-up. Read more>>