"Help! I can't do this anymore."

Sep 8, 2015
3 min read

The message light on the phone was blinking. It had been a long trip home from Los Angeles for Melissa, my pregnant daughter-in-law, and me. Did I want to listen to it? Lately I was always exhausted. Everything was a chore. I punched the button and started to walk away when I heard my doctor’s voice, “ The tests came back positive, you have chronic fatigue, Kathie. The Epstein-Barr has become activated in your body.” I froze for a moment and stared at the phone. I couldn’t believe his words. Had the stress in my life aggravated it? My family was as shocked as I was. My husband had been battling the same illness for eighteen months.

What happened to me? I knew. The pace I kept burned me out. The treadmill I was on never stopped. People were amazed at my energy but now I had none. I prided myself in having not just a type “A” personality but an “AA” personality. Driven in ministry and bogged down with the pressures of our business was overwhelming. I felt responsible for everyone and everything in my life. Had I forgotten the term “false responsibility”?

The events of the past two years had finally caught up with me. Events I couldn’t fix: our daughter’s divorce, our son’s illness, a church split, the near loss of our business and my husband’s battle with chronic fatigue. I handled them at the time but now it seemed that even little things were catastrophes to me.

I wanted to turn the clock back and sit in a field of daisies where there were no cares and my mother made me daisy chains. I wanted to be that little girl with the free spirit day dreaming in the sun, enjoying each day, stopping to smell every lilac on the way to and from school.

My mind flashed on the beauty of western New York in spring. I remembered climbing in the ’49 Plymouth and driving a short distance to a woods where we searched for wild flowers. The best prize was finding a Jack in the Pulpit, a little flower that stood in its green pulpit of leaves. Now, I wanted to stand in a pulpit and scream, “I can’t do this anymore. I am so tired. Get me off this treadmill!”

God heard my cries and gave me one of the greatest gifts of all, a gift that would melt my heart and give me permission to slow down. Two weeks after the diagnosis of chronic fatigue my first grandchild was born. I looked into his face and, as he learned to giggle so did I once again.

I learned to take moment vacations and not feel guilty. I sat on the patio under the willow tree, walked on the bay, had a pedicure, laughed with a friend or shopped. Vacations became a necessity not a luxury. When I took the time to be creative I felt refreshed. As I listened to my doctor and counselor’s advice I began to recover. I became aware of the warning signals when I was overextended and pulled back.

Pacing myself has been a challenge but the consequences of living life on a constant treadmill are far greater. I thank God that He slowed me down and showed me how to live. I can enjoy life, relish the beauty of His creations every day and still accomplish all I need to do.