Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a jar of water.
In the 1950s, Curt Richter ran a cruel experiment: he dropped rats into deep jars of water. Left alone, they drowned within minutes. But if he pulled them out just before they gave up, dried them, let them rest, then dropped them back in- they swam for hours. Up to 60.
Why?
Because they'd been saved once. They had hope it could happen again. That experience alone changed their will to survive. Hope wasn’t just an emotion- it was the difference between life or death.
Severe and very severe ME/CFS patients are not rats, but they too are dropped into a condition they can't escape. Isolated, disbelieved, untreated, many begin to sink when no one comes.
But hope, even abstract hope, keeps people swimming. A message, a study, an advocate- these can be enough to remind someone rescue is possible. Concrete hope ("this treatment will save me") can backfire if it fails. But abstract hope ("someone might help someday") is resilient.
Be the reason someone holds on.