The worst thing about this whole EBV/CFS/ME/PVF/PEM abbreviation hell I've been going through the last 18 months is not the physical aspect.
You would imagine an athlete in one of the most challenging sports in the world, whos strength is being able to play 3 matches per day and be fit enough to win the final on Sunday, would feel horrified by struggling to walk stairs. And yes, it sucks to be sick for 2 months only after walking 3 flights of stairs. But, ok. Thats reality. The new reality. Adapt.
It took 8 months before my metabolism dropped. By then I had lost 5 kgs of muscle. After this, the burger belly started showing. So did the 5 kgs I lost, only this time it was fat. The infamous "Daddy belt" which I swore I would never see.
Around this time (not because I was getting fat) I faced my greatest challenge....... my head. It was not because I missed playing, being out of the game and just wanting to do something I couldn't. I missed out on several national and international championships, and that did not feel good, but I physically couldn't, so I accepted it.
I think the problem was that I have been used to sporting all day every day sice I was 4 years old. I had a maximum of 6 months break when I was younger due to overtraining once and groin injury the second time. I had always had a constant rush of endorphine and dopamine from training. I was never the stressed one, never the worried one, never anxious. ever!
Then your body goes cold turkey. No more activity. whatsoever. Just lie as still as you can, for however long it takes. Maybe 3 weeks, maybe 3 months, maybe 3 years. No one knows. Looking on Youtube and medical websites you see there is no cure, it is chronic and its the death of any sports career. My cortisol started running crazy, my HPA-axis crashed. Welcome stress, anxiety, depression and big loads of feeling sorry for myself. Super sensitive to any opposition, snapping and overreacting to the smallest things, aggression, insomnia, all that fun stuff. And in the middle of it I know that these feelings have no foundation. I have nothing to REALLY worry about. I can walk, work, function. I have family friends, food and a roof. Nothing to really feel down about. So I feel sorry for myself for feeling sorry for myself.
So after a year of trying to desperately return to activity, I gave myself a few good months of doing nothing. I have in this period suffered from severe spleen pain, but this subsided last week. I noticed the stress hormones calmed down as well. I took this as a good sign and went on court for the first time in ages and hit a few balls. It could not have been more than 20 minutes, and not a foot was lifted off the ground. Only my arms flailing randomly with a racket which normally describes my technique quite accurately.
It was like a shot of drugs. A perfect dosage of ecstacy that went straight to the brain and unblocked that clot blocking my flow. I felt actually happy. A strange sensation I had not felt in over a year.. I am an addict. Squash is too big of a part of my life. If 20 min of whacking a rubber ball gives me a fix for the week, how big of a junkie was I before. I have addiction in my genetics, and some family members get their fix elsewhere. But this is my drug. Fuck you Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I will return. In one form or another
You would imagine an athlete in one of the most challenging sports in the world, whos strength is being able to play 3 matches per day and be fit enough to win the final on Sunday, would feel horrified by struggling to walk stairs. And yes, it sucks to be sick for 2 months only after walking 3 flights of stairs. But, ok. Thats reality. The new reality. Adapt.
It took 8 months before my metabolism dropped. By then I had lost 5 kgs of muscle. After this, the burger belly started showing. So did the 5 kgs I lost, only this time it was fat. The infamous "Daddy belt" which I swore I would never see.
Around this time (not because I was getting fat) I faced my greatest challenge....... my head. It was not because I missed playing, being out of the game and just wanting to do something I couldn't. I missed out on several national and international championships, and that did not feel good, but I physically couldn't, so I accepted it.
I think the problem was that I have been used to sporting all day every day sice I was 4 years old. I had a maximum of 6 months break when I was younger due to overtraining once and groin injury the second time. I had always had a constant rush of endorphine and dopamine from training. I was never the stressed one, never the worried one, never anxious. ever!
Then your body goes cold turkey. No more activity. whatsoever. Just lie as still as you can, for however long it takes. Maybe 3 weeks, maybe 3 months, maybe 3 years. No one knows. Looking on Youtube and medical websites you see there is no cure, it is chronic and its the death of any sports career. My cortisol started running crazy, my HPA-axis crashed. Welcome stress, anxiety, depression and big loads of feeling sorry for myself. Super sensitive to any opposition, snapping and overreacting to the smallest things, aggression, insomnia, all that fun stuff. And in the middle of it I know that these feelings have no foundation. I have nothing to REALLY worry about. I can walk, work, function. I have family friends, food and a roof. Nothing to really feel down about. So I feel sorry for myself for feeling sorry for myself.
So after a year of trying to desperately return to activity, I gave myself a few good months of doing nothing. I have in this period suffered from severe spleen pain, but this subsided last week. I noticed the stress hormones calmed down as well. I took this as a good sign and went on court for the first time in ages and hit a few balls. It could not have been more than 20 minutes, and not a foot was lifted off the ground. Only my arms flailing randomly with a racket which normally describes my technique quite accurately.
It was like a shot of drugs. A perfect dosage of ecstacy that went straight to the brain and unblocked that clot blocking my flow. I felt actually happy. A strange sensation I had not felt in over a year.. I am an addict. Squash is too big of a part of my life. If 20 min of whacking a rubber ball gives me a fix for the week, how big of a junkie was I before. I have addiction in my genetics, and some family members get their fix elsewhere. But this is my drug. Fuck you Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I will return. In one form or another
