Do any of you recognise the twilight stage between being really unwell and being well, where you are feeling well enough to be bored by resting but know that if you don’t rest, you’ll become more unwell again? That’s where I am. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really thankful that I’m starting to feel better. However, I’m also feeling rather frustrated. My mother orders me to go back to bed if she sees me up and about. l am thirty-three years old.
I must admit, I’ve found it difficult to adjust to the dependence on help from my mother that being ill has made necessary. It has lead to me feeling stuck in a rut of regression to being a teenager from which I’m not sure how to escape.
Do any of you identify with this situation? How have your family relationships been affected by your illness?