I am too weak, paralysed, blank, lacking in coordination to draw at all at the moment, I don’t know when or if it will come back. I never know. My husband made this besutiful poster for me. Here is an additional extract from a piece I wrote about revelation for a writing competition: “ What would it feel like to be heard, seen, acknowledged, recognised, respected for who I am, including that hidden, invisibly ill, unseen part of myself? I don’t want pity. I want my context understanding so I don’t endlessly feel I have to explain myself. I don’t want to have to deny the agony I am in and which I struggle to communicate through, as if it is not there. I don’t want people to pretend that I don’t exist, that I don’t literally sit or lie, paralysed all day, completely unable to do anything and every moment’s existence for me is a massive struggle of vast proportion. I don’t want to live in fear of misinterpretation, misrepresentation, mistreatment. I want to be able to say this is who I...