In the spring of 1998, when I married my husband at sunset on the oceanfront bluffs of Carmel, Calif., everything in my life seemed golden. We had a beautiful waterfront home near San Francisco, an income that classified us as wealthy--and I had the job of my dreams.

Then I got sick and everything changed. After struggling for more than two years to keep working and retain my sense of self-worth, I have learned that life with chronic fatigue and immune dysfunction syndrome (CFIDS) means letting go of my career and embracing new dreams instead.

My illness actually began years before my marriage. I contracted walking pneumonia in late 1991 and never really recovered. My health worsened through two cross-country moves and three job changes over the next five years.

Finally, after collapsing on a business trip in November of 1998, I visited a specialist in San Francisco. After listening to my litany of symptoms, the doctor began writing out a prescription for a medical leave, citing severe exhaustion.

"We are going to find out what is wrong with you," she said soberly, "or you won’t live to see your 45th birthday."

A two-year trial
I tried to return to part-time work after six months, but my symptoms re-appeared within a week. My doctor insisted on another three-month leave. By then, my formal diagnosis was CFIDS and fibromyalgia. I remained in denial about the seriousness of my illness, however, and, feeling better again, accepted a new full-time job.

Once again, I relapsed within a month, but continued to work part-time for four more months. Then I started a new immune therapy which had me feeling so much better that I was convinced I was ready to return to full-time work.

This was yet another mistake, but one that my body took care of for good this time. I had been on my new job for only one month when, while walking from my hotel to my office during a business trip, I twisted my ankle and was thrown forward with such force that I later reflected that it felt like being pushed by the hand of God.

Although I was able to fly home that night, within a week I couldn’t walk, and the accident flared all my CFIDS symptoms again. Nearly a year later, I’m able to walk again, but returning to work seemed foolhardy given my three previous unsuccessful attempts.

Finally, reluctantly, at the insistence of my several doctors, I applied for Social Security disability insurance in May of last year, and was awarded full benefits based on CFIDS on the first try. I have been "retired" since September of last year; I am 42 years old.

Changing my priorities
After spending more than 20 years in a high-income, high-prestige career, one of the most difficult tasks I faced in dealing with my disability was learning to let go of work. Since I have been unable to have children, much of my identity and sense of worth was tied up in what I did for a living.

But after a period of denial, anger and grief, I reached a point, with the help of my psychologist, where I was able to take steps to cope with my ongoing struggle to let go of work. Here are a dozen strategies that helped me the most:

1. Buying a companion animal to keep me company during my days at home. Pasha is now a darling two-year-old pug, and my husband helps me care for her.
   
2. Developing a budget with my husband, one that allows us to continue to live a good life on a greatly reduced income.
   
3. Cleaning out my business files and clothes closet, although I kept my business suits, just in case I am ever able to return to consulting work.
   
4. Making a scrap book in honor of my career, including all my mementos and awards for special accomplishments.
   
5. Holding a "re-birthday" party when I turned 41 and planned to start part-time work. The idea was that the part-time job was a sort of rebirth for me and my career. I asked friends to share re-birthing experiences from their own lives in lieu of gifts, and it was quite moving. While the part-time career hasn’t worked out, the event was a great healing experience.
   
6. Throwing a "retirement" party to celebrate my disability award, although, ironically, we had to cancel this because I had an emergency appendectomy.
   
7. Writing about my transition in journals, essays and poems, some of which I’ve published.
   
8. Finding support in other areas, such as e-groups and local support groups to help me feel less isolated.
   
9. Taking short classes when I am able, in areas of interest such as creative arts, as long as they are low-stress and non-graded. I’m doing Japanese flower arranging now.
   
10. Developing friendships outside of my previous workplace environment, based on common interests rather than employment. I meet many potential friends in classes and at the dog park.
    
11. Finding a group of supportive doctors who were willing to support my disability claim and are willing to work with me to try new treatments as they are developed. This has been essential to my ongoing recovery.
    
    And most importantly:
    
12. Continuing to grieve my losses and work on my changing relationship with my husband, with the help of my excellent psychotherapist, whom I see on a monthly basis.

Dealing with my illness and letting go of work remain the most difficult challenges of my life. My self-esteem suffered greatly initially, but with the support of my husband, family, friends and my psychologist, now I am confident that I have innate value as a person, far beyond how much money I earn or what I do for a living. Though my life may not be as golden as it looked in the spring of 1998, at least now I can see a silver lining beyond the clouds of my illness.