The dangers of hope

Something I wrote in an email to a friend who also has ME/CFS, about hope and health improvements:


When I would experience even small health improvements back in the apartment [in the sick building], I would be ecstatic. My next reaction was, "HEY NOW, whoa, slow down. Don't get attached to feeling better. Non-attachment, here."

I had been up and back down so many times, I knew how excruciating the let-down was when the upswing was over. I would say to myself and anyone who cared, "I'm just enjoying it right now, in the moment. It's amazing and fantastic, in the moment. I don't know how long it will last, but I am grateful for it right now."

That was partly true, but partly bullshit. I was extremely invested in the idea of getting better.  I was struggling so hard not to be too attached because feeling better was the one thing I wanted, but I  had no control over the degree of improvement or how long it lasted.  Could be one hour, could be a week.  Each time I hoped it was the beginning of some type of recovery. But it never was. Not even close.


Now that I've seen real progress  [because of mold avoidance] that   doesn't appear to be  a one-time occurrence, my Zen attitude has gone completely out the window. I don't even pretend to be non-attached any more. This is a problem, hahaha. Once I found something that might help me, god help anyone or anything that got in the way of my progress. Including myself.
And since I seem to have a bit of control over it (though not nearly enough!), I'm pretty mean to myself about  not progressing faster;  not being able to be the HULK every day, at least mentally; and the inability to brute-force my body into getting better like an Olympian training for the big show.

So, I'm working on that. :) There isn't an Off switch for an impatient overachiever attitude, but there is a dimmer switch.