But the daily irritations take their toll. The uncontrollable perspiration when I drink or eat something hot. Not every time; it likes to surprise me. The fatigue that creeps up like a car slowing to a halt as it runs out of petrol, while knowing I still have to get in the car to collect the boys from their school, five miles away.
I can't shut her up. I can't cram her into a box and sit on the lid until she suffocates. Her spirit is too strong, her heart beats too loudly but she is trapped in a body that will not comply; the body that has never complied if I am honest. The one that always got me so far before it collapsed from exhaustion while my brain failed to shut down too.
I am no closer to peace than I ever was. I am very good at what I do and I don't want to give it up despite doctors, friends, family telling me I must so I can cope.
But I can't. I want it all. I always will. So I will live with the grief because the truth and acceptance doesn't fit. It never will.
So if you love me, you'll just have to love me for who I am and the way I am. Flawed, sometimes flaky but maybe worth caring about. Maybe.