Βι¶ΉΤΌΕΔ

It was my friend's birthday the other day so I gave her a call. Last year, and probably the year before, I couldn't phone her because I was too ill. So I texted. I do text a lot, and it can be great for those times when you can't manage a phonecall, but phoning is important too as I can't often see my friend in person.

This year it really meant a lot to speak to her. I half expected her to be out for a meal, but no, she was at home with a cold. I think I may have cheered her up and I may even have made her laugh. Having spent a long time unable to communicate with friends it always feels good to make someone laugh again.

My friend and I go back 23 years so that's a lot of history. We are both mums, and the fact that I was well enough to chat on her birthday and catch up with all her news felt good. I wasn't able to do this simple thing for so long and I feel bad about not being there for her.

We had not spoken for quite a while. When you are living with a condition like M.E. that affects your ability to keep in touch, months can slip by quite easily. You know you are limited by your health and can't have an exactly rocking social life, and so you worry about friends slipping away.

You can get resentful quite easily on bad days, thinking "Why hasn't so or so been in touch for so long?" People always have an explanation, and sometimes it is reasonable and makes instant sense. Major attention-diverting life events I tend not to argue with, for example. Then there are the minor "I've been really busy" type responses.

So you get to learn who your friends are. But I have also learned not to be dependent on calls and, having been in the wilderness for a while, relearned how to be a better friend. To make calls sometimes, even if I haven't felt well enough, because it will nurture a friendship that IS important to me. The afternoon chat I had the other day was the best I've had in ages. We both had a good old natter.

My condition makes communicating and socialising hard for lots of reasons, mainly pain levels and sensory difficulties. I've struggled to come to terms with my limitations, and the limitations put on me by others. I've found it hard to make sense of my altered role, identity, the way people perceive me, the way I see myself. But not everything has changed. There are still some things I can enjoy, just differently. And not being so ANGRY means I can now be more myself with my friends and family again.

It means I can pick up the phone and say "Happy Birthday!"

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