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  • Looking Back: 30 Years of Shame and Finally Understanding My Experience

    Looking Back: 30 Years of Shame and Finally Understanding My Experience

    I’ve lived with this illness for over 30 years, and for most of that time I was ashamed of it.

    Doctors kept telling me it was all in my head.

    They said I was depressed, anxious, or that I just didn’t want to work hard enough. They usually prescribed antidepressants and anti-anxiety medications, claiming these drugs would fix me. While the medication may have helped my emotional state somewhat, it did nothing to fix the physical symptoms.

    Thankfully, I eventually stopped letting them gaslight me into taking more and different medications.

    Every time I tried to explain how my body would completely crash after doing normal things, I was met with skepticism or pity.

    So I started doubting myself.

    I felt weak.
    I felt crazy.
    I carried a lot of shame for something I couldn’t control.

    The fatigue and exhaustion that comes with this illness is crushing.

    It’s not normal tiredness. It’s a deep, heavy exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix. Even the smallest activities can leave me completely wiped out for days.

    My sleep tracker consistently shows that I get adequate deep sleep and REM sleep, yet I still wake up exhausted. That helped me understand something important:

    The problem isn’t simply how much I sleep.

    It’s that my dysautonomia prevents the sleep from being restorative.

    In the early years, the emotional side of it felt a lot like PMS — that same sudden emotional dysregulation, irritability, and feeling completely off — except instead of happening once a month, it could hit at any time.

    Only recently have I finally understood what’s really happening.

    What I have is dysautonomia.

    My autonomic nervous system doesn’t regulate properly anymore.

    That’s why I can suddenly feel freezing cold in a warm room. That’s why I’m much more comfortable lying down than sitting or standing. And that’s why even mild activity can make my whole system short-circuit — suddenly bringing on intense brain fog, overwhelming exhaustion, headaches, insomnia, anxiety, and sometimes depression all at once.

    ME/CFS always felt like an incomplete label to me.

    Yes, I crash after exertion.
    Yes, sleep doesn’t fix it.
    Yes, my body has never functioned the way people expect it to.

    But understanding it as dysautonomia finally explains the day-to-day reality of living in a body whose nervous system breaks down so easily.

    The only thing that actually helps is pacing — staying within my energy envelope.

    I try to live as close to the edge as I can, but carefully. Migraines and tinnitus have become warning signs for me. If I respect those early signals, I can often avoid triggering insomnia, which is far worse than a regular crash and completely throws me off balance.

    After 30 years, I’ve finally stopped blaming myself.

    That alone has been healing.

    I’m sharing this journal entry in case it gives someone else a little more language for their own experience.

    And for family members, friends, and doctors: please know that when we keep turning down invitations, or seem withdrawn, or disappear for long stretches of time, it’s not because we don’t want to be around you.

    Our energy is extremely limited.

    We have to be very careful to avoid crashes.

    Even now, I keep a little journal between doctor visits so I can clearly communicate what I’ve been experiencing. If you’re struggling to explain this illness during appointments, writing things down and bringing it with you can be incredibly helpful.

    Sometimes understanding does not cure the body.

    But it can begin to release the shame.

    And after so many years of being misunderstood, that matters.

  • Understanding Life with ME/CFS

    Understanding Life with ME/CFS

    Living with ME/CFS can feel like moving through a world where energy is always scarce, even after sleep or rest. Each day often starts with a level of fatigue that others might experience only after running a marathon, and even the smallest tasks—like taking a shower or answering a message—can lead to overwhelming exhaustion known as post-exertional malaise (PEM). This exhaustion isn’t just tiredness; it’s a deep, often immobilizing weariness that can affect every system in the body.

    For many, symptoms extend beyond fatigue and include pain, cognitive difficulties often called “brain fog,” sensitivities to light and sound, sleep disturbances, and immune symptoms like swollen glands or a sore throat. Some people describe their experience as feeling trapped between a desire to live fully and a body that constantly enforces limits. Social and professional isolation can add to the challenges, as ME/CFS often means saying “no” to friends, work, and daily activities that once brought joy and connection.

    This condition varies greatly, so while some may have more freedom on “good” days to engage in gentle activities, others may find themselves mostly confined to bed, carefully rationing energy just to make it through each day. The need for pacing—moving through life in a slow, intentional rhythm—is key to avoiding painful crashes, yet it can feel isolating, as others may not understand the invisible boundaries ME/CFS places on energy.

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  • Finding Healing in the Fires Within: Shifting from the Ordinary Mind to the Pristine Mind with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome

    Finding Healing in the Fires Within: Shifting from the Ordinary Mind to the Pristine Mind with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome

    Discover how the quiet fire of the pristine mind can soothe the restless blaze of chronic fatigue, offering a path to inner peace and gentle transformation.

    I sit here today, tenderly aware of a fire burning within me—not the feverish blaze of energy or ambition, but a fire that comes with chronic fatigue, a fire that seems to consume my energy, that feeds on thoughts of worry, longing, frustration. This fire has been with me for as long as I’ve known this illness, and for many years, it seemed the fire was all I had—scorching, demanding, leaving me exhausted.

    But in recent days, I’ve come to see a new way of being with this fire, a gentle shift. There are, I believe, two fires within: one that belongs to the ordinary mind and another that belongs to the pristine mind.

    The fire of the ordinary mind is a hungry, restless flame. It feeds on what we give it—thoughts, fears, the inner whisper of “not enough.” It clings to the past and worries for the future, each thought a piece of wood thrown into the blaze, each worry an ember reignited. It takes, and takes, and when I stay too long with this fire, I feel myself slipping into exhaustion, my strength given over to a fire that never settles, never finds rest.

    And yet, there is another fire. It is quieter, calmer, like the deep glow of coals after the flames have settled. This is the fire of the pristine mind. It does not demand fuel; it simply is. It does not need anything from me, nor does it take. Instead, it offers a kind of sacred purification. It allows the impressions, the pratyayas, those old echoes of worry, disappointment, expectation, to rise up, to be seen, and then to burn themselves out gently, naturally, leaving a clean, quiet space in their wake.

    When I find myself caught in the ordinary fire—my mind racing, my heart feeling heavy—I take a breath and remember that there is another way. I sit with my awareness, letting go of each thought, letting each worry pass without adding to it. I let the flames burn low, and, slowly, I shift to the fire of the pristine mind, where each thought that arises can dissolve without reaction. I do not need to hold on to any of it, nor fuel it. In this place, I am simply present, letting what arises pass without attachment.

    This is, I’ve come to believe, a healing fire. Not a fire that consumes, but one that illuminates. When I rest here, I feel myself soften, as though I am held in a vast quiet. The pratyayas, those ancient patterns, have no hold here. They are seen, and then they drift away like ashes.

    Perhaps, if you too feel that restless blaze within, you can find this other fire. Sit with yourself, as gently as you would sit with a friend, and watch each thought arise and drift away. Do not reach to hold it, to make it stay, or to change it. Let it come, and let it go. Rest in the calm glow of the pristine mind, where there is nothing to fuel and nothing to fear. In this quiet, you are enough, you are whole.

    This journey, I realize, is very much a work in progress. Shifting from the ordinary fire to the pristine fire is not a one-time practice but an ongoing exploration—a gentle unfolding that reveals itself with patience and time. I invite anyone who feels drawn to this process, who wishes to explore this gentle technology of the mind, to sit with it and see if it offers benefit. Let it be an experiment, a curiosity, a way of tending to your inner world.

    This understanding has been inspired by the teachings in Our Pristine Mind by Orgyen Chowang Rinpoche. His work offers a profound look into the nature of the mind and the potential for peace that lies within each of us. If you feel drawn to explore this practice further, I highly recommend his book. It provides both guidance and wisdom for those seeking to discover the healing light of their own pristine mind.

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  • Managing Post-Exertional Malaise: Finding Balance and Peace in Life with ME/CFS

    Managing Post-Exertional Malaise: Finding Balance and Peace in Life with ME/CFS

    A Gentle Reflection on Pacing, Rest, and Navigating the Challenges of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome

    There are days when the body speaks softly, a whisper of weariness that hints at the storm ahead. And though we move carefully, mindful of each step, there are moments when the smallest effort—a turn of the mind, a spark of emotion—awakens something deeper. This is the dance with post-exertional malaise, the hidden tide that comes and goes, often when we least expect it.

    Gentle Reminder: Take Care of Yourself

    This post is lengthy, and it’s important to honor your pacing needs. Feel free to read a little at a time, take breaks, and come back to it when you’re ready. Your well-being is paramount, even as you engage with information that supports your journey.

    In this slow unfolding, I’ve learned the art of listening. Not just to the body’s loud protests, but to the subtle shifts that rise like shadows before a dusk. It’s a practice, really—this gentle balancing act of life. Pacing myself through the hours, I find that it’s not about doing as much as I can, but rather, doing only as much as I must, and stopping long before the weight of fatigue pulls me under.

    Some days, I count my energy like a miser with gold, tucking it away in small corners, resting in the quiet between breaths. I know now that to keep moving without pause is to invite the flood, so I rest—not in surrender, but in reverence. It’s a kind of devotion, to honor these limits as something sacred, to see the necessity of stillness as part of the rhythm of being. I don’t always succeed. But when I do, I glimpse a peace that feels fragile, yet profound.

    And when the world presses in with its demands, I remind myself that it’s okay to say no, or not now. There is a quiet strength in bowing out, in knowing that tomorrow will ask more of me than today ever could, and I must be ready. There is also grace in understanding that not every task, not every moment, requires my full self. I can do less, and in doing less, I give myself more space to breathe, to be.

    There are the days after—the days when the fog of PEM descends like a heavy mist over the mind, the limbs. When it comes, I am learning not to fight it. I lie still, like a tree after the storm, gathering strength in the pause. I have found that recovery is an art, as delicate as anything else. Resting, not out of defeat, but out of wisdom, out of love for the body that has carried me through so much already. The act of resting becomes an offering of peace, a gift I give myself in this long, uncharted journey.

    And so, I move slowly, gently, always aware of the fine thread that connects exertion and ease, action and rest. I have begun to cherish the quiet moments of pause, the spaces where life still hums softly, even in the absence of movement. These are the moments when I remind myself that managing this strange, invisible storm is not about conquering it, but learning to live alongside it, to move with it as gracefully as I can. There is beauty here, too—a beauty in the stillness, in the small victories of simply being.

    In those moments, I find a sense of peace that is mine to keep. And in that peace, I remind myself that even on the hardest days, I am enough.And so, as I offer these thoughts, I send with them a quiet wish for your well-being. May you find moments of rest that nourish you deeply, and may the days of ease, however fleeting, linger softly in your memory. If you ever feel the weight of this journey pressing too hard, know that you are not alone.

    Dear friends,

    I know these days may feel heavier than usual. The storm outside has passed, but inside, your bodies may feel as though they’re weathering one of their own. Post-exertional malaise (PEM) comes like that—quiet and uninvited, a deep exhaustion that touches every part of you. Whether it’s the physical toll of surviving the hurricane or the emotional weight of the aftermath, you’re feeling it now, maybe more intensely than you have in years.

    Please know that what you are experiencing is valid. You’ve already shown such strength, simply by navigating these storms and their many demands. But right now, in this moment, the strongest thing you can do is rest. Not as a surrender, but as a way of caring for yourself in the most compassionate way possible. Rest, because your body is asking for it. Rest, because this is how you heal.

    Pacing is not easy when the world around you spins in chaos, but I encourage you to listen to the subtle signs your body gives. You don’t have to meet every demand or engage with every worry. It’s okay to step back, to breathe, and to honor your limits. In doing less, you are doing what is necessary to recover.

    If the fog of PEM feels too thick to see through, know that it will lift. Maybe not all at once, but in small, tender ways. There is stillness, there is peace, waiting for you on the other side of this exhaustion. You are not alone in this experience—many of us are moving slowly through these same waters, learning the rhythm of rest, of patience, of letting go.

    For now, take each moment as it comes. Let yourselves be. Let yourselves rest. And in that rest, know that you are enough. You are resilient. This, too, will pass.

    With all my warmth and understanding,
    Richard Silverman

    Feel free to leave your thoughts, your questions, or simply your presence here—I will meet you with understandingh and warmth. Together, in our shared quiet, we will honor the pace that life has asked of us.

    🙏🕊️🙏

  • The Art of Pacing: How to Live Gently with Chronic Illness and Protect Your Energy

    A gentle exploration of how pacing can help you find balance and protect your well-being while living with chronic illness—along with thoughtful tools and guidance for those seeking support on this journey.

    Pacing is the quiet art of learning to live gently within the rhythms of your body, an act of surrender not to defeat, but to wisdom. It asks you to listen closely, with reverence, to the invisible boundaries your energy sets each day—boundaries that shift like tides, at times quietly receding, at times closing in. For those living with post-viral ME/CFS or long COVID, pacing is not about building stamina or pushing through; it is a way of navigating the unpredictable waters of illness, steering not toward exhaustion but toward balance.

    Think of your energy as a delicate thread stretched between moments. Some threads are finer than others, fraying at the edges after only the smallest tug. On certain days, your energy is enough to string together simple acts—getting out of bed, speaking a few words, tending to a meal. On others, even holding a thought in your mind feels like a weight too great to bear. There is no map for how far your thread will extend each day, and so the practice of pacing requires patience: learning when to weave activity into that thread and when to set it down altogether.

    It begins with noticing. As the morning unfolds, ask yourself: How does your body feel today? What whispers does it send about the tasks ahead—are your limbs heavy, your mind clouded? Or does the day offer a rare clarity, a lightness in your chest? This gentle inquiry is the starting point of pacing, the first invitation to move in harmony with yourself. If you learn to honor your limits before they are breached, you begin to discover that rest, too, is a form of action—an act of preservation, of quiet resistance to the demands of doing.

    There will be moments when you falter. Some days, buoyed by the hope of feeling better, you may do too much, only to find yourself crashed in bed the next morning, as though your body is reminding you: even good days must be tended with care. And yet, these moments are not failures but teachers, guiding you back to the path of gentleness. The gift of pacing is not in perfection but in the willingness to adjust, again and again, to the ebb and flow of your energy. It teaches that every step back into rest is not a retreat but a recalibration—a way of finding your balance anew.

    In practice, pacing asks that you break life into smaller pieces. No task need be completed all at once; no activity is so urgent that it cannot be paused. It may mean spreading chores across hours or days, resting between each small effort. You might find that simply sitting still before you are exhausted—what some call “micro-rests”—becomes a way to protect your energy, much like tending a fragile flame so it does not burn too fast.

    It also teaches the value of saying no, of drawing boundaries not out of reluctance but out of care for yourself. The world may ask more of you than you can give, but your worth is not measured by what you accomplish. Pacing offers you the grace to step back when needed, to protect the little energy you have, and to understand that in rest there is healing, even if that healing is slow and subtle.

    Through this practice, you begin to understand that your life with chronic illness is not a race to reclaim the old ways of being, but an invitation to live differently—deliberately, thoughtfully, and with compassion for yourself. Some days will still carry setbacks, and your thread may feel thin and worn, but you learn to trust that even in these moments, you are practicing something essential: the art of living well within your limits.

    If this way of being resonates with you, I invite you to explore pacing as a tool for navigating life with long COVID, post-viral ME/CFS, or any chronic illness. It is not a cure, but a guide—a way to live with care, softness, and respect for the boundaries your body sets.

    And if you are looking for a gentle companion in this journey—someone to offer guidance on pacing, energy conservation, and emotional support—I invite you to try out this free GPT assistant. This tool provides thoughtful advice, helps you manage the challenges of chronic illness, and offers a steady, compassionate voice tailored to your unique needs.

    Link to GPT Model:

    https://chatgpt.com/g/g-YSGKIl3IT-post-viral-me-cfs-support-guide

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  • How Yoga Nidra Can Benefit People Living with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (ME/CFS)

    Living with Myalgic Encephalomyelitis/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (ME/CFS) is a daily challenge that requires careful management of energy, rest, and stress. For many, finding effective ways to support the body and mind in this delicate balance can feel overwhelming. Yoga Nidra, often called “yogic sleep,” is a practice that has been gaining attention for its potential benefits in managing ME/CFS. In this post, I’d like to delve deeper into how Yoga Nidra can be a valuable tool for those of us living with this condition.

    1. Supporting Pacing Strategies

    Pacing is a cornerstone of managing ME/CFS. It involves carefully balancing activity and rest to avoid pushing the body beyond its limits, which can lead to crashes or flare-ups of symptoms. Yoga Nidra can be an invaluable tool in this regard. Unlike other forms of exercise or even traditional yoga, Yoga Nidra requires no physical exertion. It allows you to take restorative breaks throughout the day, helping to prevent crashes by providing your body with deep rest during these intervals.

    For those of us with ME/CFS, the ability to find rest without further depleting our energy is crucial. A short Yoga Nidra session can be integrated into your daily routine as a way to recharge and reset, making pacing more manageable and effective.

    1. Activating the Parasympathetic Nervous System

    Another significant benefit of Yoga Nidra is its ability to activate the parasympathetic nervous system (PNS). The PNS is responsible for the “rest and digest” functions of the body, helping to counteract the stress response driven by the sympathetic nervous system. For many people with ME/CFS, the nervous system is often in a heightened state of alertness, which can contribute to symptoms of fatigue, pain, and cognitive dysfunction.

    Yoga Nidra guides you into a state of deep relaxation, which helps shift the body from a state of stress to one of rest and repair. This activation of the PNS can reduce the chronic stress response that often accompanies ME/CFS, promoting a sense of calm and helping to alleviate symptoms over time.

    1. Providing Deep Rest and Restoration

    One of the most challenging aspects of ME/CFS is the experience of unrefreshing sleep. Despite spending many hours in bed, individuals with ME/CFS often wake up feeling just as tired as before they slept. Yoga Nidra offers a unique solution by guiding practitioners into a state of consciousness that is deeply restful, yet different from regular sleep.

    During Yoga Nidra, the body can enter a state that mimics sleep in terms of physical rest, but the mind remains in a state of relaxed awareness. This state of conscious relaxation allows for a deeper level of restoration, potentially offering benefits that complement or even enhance the effects of regular sleep. For people with ME/CFS, incorporating Yoga Nidra into the daily routine could help alleviate the feeling of exhaustion that persists despite adequate sleep.

    1. Releasing Tension and Promoting Emotional Healing

    Living with a chronic illness like ME/CFS can lead to the accumulation of physical and emotional tension. Over time, this tension can exacerbate symptoms and contribute to feelings of stress and overwhelm. Yoga Nidra includes practices like body scanning and guided visualization, which can help release deep-seated physical tension and promote emotional healing.

    As you are guided to focus on different parts of the body and engage in positive affirmations or visualizations, Yoga Nidra provides a safe space for processing and releasing stress. This can lead to a sense of lightness and relief, which is particularly beneficial for those dealing with the chronic stressors associated with ME/CFS.

    1. Enhancing Mental Clarity and Focus

    Cognitive symptoms, often referred to as “brain fog,” are a common and frustrating aspect of ME/CFS. The deep relaxation and stress reduction provided by Yoga Nidra can contribute to improved mental clarity and focus. By calming the nervous system and promoting a state of balance, Yoga Nidra may help reduce the cognitive fatigue that many with ME/CFS experience.

    Regular practice of Yoga Nidra can support mental clarity by reducing the underlying stressors that contribute to brain fog, allowing for moments of greater focus and cognitive function.

    Conclusion: A Gentle Tool for Holistic Support

    Yoga Nidra is not a cure for ME/CFS, but it can be a gentle and effective tool for supporting overall well-being. By offering deep rest, aiding in pacing, calming the nervous system, and promoting emotional and physical healing, Yoga Nidra can be an integral part of a holistic approach to managing ME/CFS.

    If you’re living with ME/CFS and looking for new ways to support your health, I encourage you to explore Yoga Nidra. Whether you start with short, guided sessions or incorporate it into your daily routine, this practice may offer the kind of deep rest and healing that’s so essential for managing the complexities of ME/CFS.

    Watch a Video:

    The vides below is just some the many Yoga Nidra videos online of and are a good place to start. There are countless Yoga Nidra videos on YouTube, each offered by different instructors. Take your time exploring until you discover the ones that resonate best with you.

    The occasional Yoga Nidra session can be a relaxing and rejuvenating experience, helping you reduce stress, improve sleep, and promote overall well-being whenever you feel the need for a deep, restorative rest. May this practice bring you peace and renewal, gently supporting your journey toward greater well-being.

    This yoga Nidra for insomnia will take you easily into a light hypnagogic state and then down into a deep state of sleep.

    Learn more about ME, get involved in support, advocacy, and activism at www.meaction.net

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