I remember vaguely that when I was in kindergarten I wanted to be big like the fourth graders. I could not imagine what their size would feel like: big boots for the snow, arms long enough to place ornaments on Christmas trees, and legs long enough to *really* swing high at the playground. But it wasn't just the idea of growing so tall; the four years of time between myself and fourth grade were also more than I could easily comprehend. That kindergartners made it to fourth grade-- that time had passed and they had changed-- to me seemed wondrous.

        To my amazement, I became tall, and I became a 4th grader. I even made it to middle school. But the idea of the passage of four years remained so enchanting, that it made the present time seem less than it was, and made me yearn to be "old".

        I spent most of middle school wishing to be an older teenager, assuming that with age would come an escape from my walls of shyness, the ability to express myself through words and music, and friends who shared my love for idealism, debate, and real conversation. I consoled myself with the image of myself as a happier, more confident person: a highschooler, of course!

        CFIDS came during high school, and the number four has persistently tagged along with it in my mind-set: as of December first, I have been ill for four years. When first ill, I chose to wait and dream of healthier, happier days. Of course, it never occurred to me that four years later I'd still be severely disabled. I didn't think I'd mind waiting a short while to recover, but as time passed I grew impatient with only fighting CFIDS through medical means, and began exploring CFIDS advocacy and the ways I could help the pediatric CFIDS community. Since that evolution in my thinking I've been so busy I haven't had time to evaluate my four years of working around, and in spite of, CFIDS.

        My introspection about my years with CFIDS began recently, when once again I've been worried about an intense desire to be four years older. The idea of a healthy, college-going me is appealing, but what I want even more is to be in my mid-twenties and to have good friends. These friends, and an active lifestyle eventually leading to marriage, medical school, and children, are the stuff of my dreams. In chastising myself today for not tugging my mind back to the joys of the present moment, I realized that I've never paused to evaluate the changes of the past four years with CFIDS. Did I ever realize the goals I set for myself as a young adolescent? How do I measure up to the happy person I was certain I'd become if only I could reach age eighteen?

        As I ponder these questions, and think about my fourteen-year-old friends struggling to develop self-esteem in the midst of living with CFIDS, I find myself taking a huge sigh of relief. I realize that I have made it through the rough waters of adolescence intact, and only the stories of my young friends can send me back to that emotional turmoil again. It is wonderful to take in, this sense that I am safe, and yet I cannot deny feeling compelled to leave a message for the ones who have taken my place back in that stormy, chaotic world, and also for that girl who wondered if she'd ever grow up.

        I need to "send a note" to all of the younger YPWCs out there who feel trapped in that same bizarre world of an adolescence with CFIDS: it truly turned out all right for me! I'm no longer painfully shy, I smile more often than most folks I know, and I actually figured out how to do well in science class. My friends still are almost always either older or younger than I, but that is becoming an asset. I now know what my career goal is, and am confident that I'll achieve it by the time I have grandchildren. When I look back at the past four years I see numerous times when God has worked in my life through people...guiding angels, if you will. Though I'll admit to having many fears about my future, and am feeling more frustration with my current limitations than I'd wish for, I am glad about who I am after my four years with CFIDS...and I think it's safe to assume that the next four years will be anything but dull.

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"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has."
                                                                                    Margaret Mead

Rebecca Moore is now (1998) in college.