With another flare up, I woke during the night and just laid in bed with my mind racing. Suddenly the thought occurred to me that CFS/FM was like a jail sentence for life with no chance of parole. Isn't that what we are told to do ... live inside the box. When you step outside the box, wham - another flare up. I try to escape the jail. I fight everyday to have meaning in my life by doing something that makes me happy. Then I am reminded that I belong back in jail. It's a constant. Am I feeling sorry for myself? I am. I want a life. I want my life back, but I can't get it because I am in jail.