Out of Order

One of my classes today was on the fifth floor (as it is every week). This is fine as there is a lift though I often find I have to wait and then when I finally get in I am squished against the many other people who seem to need it. Not good for my claustrophobia.

The problem today was that when we came out of our class we discovered that the lift was 'Out of Order'. This meant I had to walk down five flights of stairs - a quick way to remind me that my body hates me. It took my at least 20 minutes, stepping with both feet onto each step, large portions of my body being held up by my arms clinging to the railing. It was exhausting to the point where I just wanted to break down in tears and not continue. I was passed by many other students and lecturers, all giving me strange looks as if to imply 'what are you making such a fuss for?' and I wanted to scream at them. Only one person asked if I needed help, but my pride wouldn't let me say yes, after all, I only had the last half a flight to get down. I felt humiliated simply because he had asked (yes, I know that you can't win with me - I don't like people who ignore the fact I'm in pain but I hate it when you offer you're help).

After all this, I had to walk home, something that I somehow managed. And it came into my mind that it is me that is 'Out of Working Order'. My body just won't let me be who I want to be, won't let me do everything, if not anything. So don't tell me that M.E/C.F.S isn't real. Don't tell me that I'm making up - if I could get rid of it, I'd happily pay anything, do anything to. So just because I look like I'm just like you, that doesn't mean that I am as able, or that I'm lazy. I am in pain and I hate it. (I'll give my apologies now to everyone I know who fully understands the extent of my life - this obviously doesn't apply to you). Please think before you judge - you cannot know what everyone is going through.