M.E v me
Intro: I have lived with M.E. (myalgic encephalomyelitis) for 20 years at this point. When I typed “ME” my phone would change it to “me” so I had to type M.E. to differentiate between the two. It always irked me that me and ME were such similar words when I’m battling ME every day just to be me. This piece is about that battle and wanting to remain truly me.
Thank you to Sarah and Lynette from F*** It Writers Collective for helping me with my writing and creating a beautiful safe space for me to write and share. And as always, thank you Eliza for encouraging me to write.
M.E. v me
Little m, little e.
Two letters together, contain all of who I am.
A consonant and a vowel sitting line by curve, taking up the smallest of spaces.
Perched in their lower form to the bottom of the line.
No more shapes or marks are needed.
No fuller meanings are tucked away, no punctuation style adornments required.
Everything I am is held in their simple pairing.
Those coupled characters hold my truth, hold my story, hold my life.
Their definition is only for me to ascribe, only I write its meaning and it will take me a lifetime to complete.
The other version however is already defined.
It does not need nor want me involved.
It holds the pen and it has written a horrifying tale.
From the page it shouts loudly, demands full attention from its reader.
Its two shapes, standing at full height, fill the space between those lines, spread its grasping fingers up and down and out as far and as wide as it can reach.
All gentle curves and twists are gone.
Replaced by sharp lines and sharper corners. Jagged and striking, those shapes display the strength of their definition, they proclaim the power of their meaning.
Not satisfied, it pushes itself still wider yet with pointed emphasis at each step in its name.
M period E period
Two studded spots signal it's full title, ensuring I never miss its presence, never confuse its name with my own, never doubt who stands there before you and who has left the page.
Those bulleted dots let me know there's yet more unseen, much more hidden in this, its abbreviated form. More pain, more grief, more isolation and more fear than two letters should ever have the power to yield on their own.
M period E period
A change in case and I change too.
Lower and I exist fully as myself, living as easy as those little letters are to scrawl across the page.
Upper and I'm gone, replaced by long lists of symptoms and disorders. Disappeared into shadows cast by decades of mistreatment and lives lost to the cruelty of those letters and the letters and names that came before them.
M.E. is not me, I am not it.
Like sides of a coin, we are never seen together.
Though you might be forgiven for thinking you are seeing the same thing as you did before; the smallest turn or flip changes everything and what was written is written no more.
Sometimes I can feel the spinning, round and round, from one side to the other, barely having time to find my bearings and know which way is up.
Other times the coin has landed, the side has been chosen and I must look to see which form those letters have taken, ask what version of m and e will it be?
All I want is to continue my story, to grab the the pen and write the next line.
To everyday have the whole page to myself again; not be left lost, unwritten and gone.
Note: this is based on my lived experience with ME. ME presents a wide variety of different symptoms and ranges from mild to severe so my experience will vary with others and I recognise how lucky I am to be currently living with a mild to moderate condition.