A Day in My Life with M.E. and IBS (and Still Getting Stuff Done)
Let’s just say my body doesn’t exactly run on high speed these days.
I live with M.E. (Myalgic Encephalomyelitis) and IBS, which means my energy is limited, my digestion is… let’s call it dramatic, and I’ve had to completely rethink what a “productive” day looks like. Spoiler: it doesn’t involve smashing a to-do list before 9am or climbing any metaphorical career ladders.
But I still run four Etsy shops, create digital products, write blog posts (like this one!), and manage to stay vaguely human-shaped. Here’s how.
Mornings: Slow, on Purpose
I wake up around 5am—not because I’m superhuman, but because my body clock is odd and that early quiet is magical. The house is still, the garden is peaceful, and it’s the one time of day I don’t feel rushed by the world.
First things first: water, a warm drink (caffeine and my gut are not friends), and a little journaling or stretching—gentle things that set the tone, not set me off.
Pacing Like a Pro (Or at Least an Attempting One)
Pacing is my survival tool. I split my day into short bursts of focused energy, with real breaks in between. I use timers. I listen to my body (even when it’s being bossy). And I’m slowly learning that rest is not lazy—it’s maintenance.
For example:
- 30 minutes drawing ? break
- Answering messages/listing edits ? lie down or go outside
- Planning blog content ? rest or snack
Some days, I’ll get a surprising amount done. Other days, I’ll get dressed and that’s the win. Both are valid.
Food, Glorious (Carefully Selected) Food
Living with IBS means food is always a bit of a gamble. I’ve learned what works for me—hello muesli, fruit, and fish—and what doesn’t (let’s not talk about onions, ever again).
Meal planning is simple, gentle, and usually the same every week. It’s not boring; it’s reliable. And when your body is moody, reliability is a small miracle.
Work… From the Garden
Yes, my “office” is a garden table. No, I don’t wear shoes. I spend my work blocks creating invitations, drawing clipart, replying to messages, and doing SEO things that make my brain tired. But I do it gently—in the shade, with breaks, and plenty of tea.
I also give myself permission to stop when I’m done. Not when everything’s finished (because spoiler: it never is), but when I’m finished. That’s a boundary I’ve had to learn the hard way.
Evenings: The Wind-Down Begins at 5pm
By 5pm, I stop. That’s when I eat my last meal, close the iPad, and swap to slow mode. A bath, a book, or a light TV show that doesn’t make me cry (unless I want it to). I go to bed around 10pm, but it starts with winding down long before that. Well that is the what I should be doing. The reality is I don’t think of drawing as work so I will carry on drawing into the evening. Plus I am that wonderful age where I have a long list of wonderful menopause ‘things’. One being if I try and watch tv without keeping myself busy I don’t make it through the openign credits of anything.
What I Want You to Know
If you’re living with chronic illness—or even just long-term fatigue—you’re not lazy. You’re not broken. You just need a different rhythm. And that rhythm might look slower, quieter, and simpler—but it still counts. It still creates. It still matters.
Some people run at full speed. I’m more of a scenic wanderer with a flask and a blanket. And honestly? That’s okay.