One pixel

Is it just us, or does the experience of living with and caring for someone with very Severe ME mean that along the way, we are talking decades here,  most people : I mean, friends, church,  neighbours, charities, fellow activists, literally,  stop speaking or give-up trying to reach out  to you?

How little they understand of  how tiny our life is.

This picture is 200 pixels; our life,  I declare, feels like one, at best maybe a handful of pixels, compared to the millions of billions  of pixels that make up normal living. There is not much we can do in reality to help. Get to know us and  you too, most likely,  will be disappointed I think.

These beautiful , warm, scented,  Spring days . My wife sits beside me shaking in pain , with  far too many  mind-bogglingly complex and evolving symptoms ,  for me  to try and comprehend.

Here's me;   feeling  like the man  in the Zen story,  chased over the edge of the cliff by the tiger, hanging by both hands,  over the  sheer drop,  onto the  strawberry plant, unable to bear my weight.

In the story the Zen master plucks and savors a strawberry. Best not to let fear, anger, despair, get to you.

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