I'm Sasha, 26, and I don't use pronouns. ME/CFS has made my life small, often in ways that aren't outwardly apparent. It's not just "bad days." It's this constant weighing: What's possible today – and what will derail me tomorrow. Sometimes just a little too much talking, a quick call, standing for a few minutes too long is enough. Then comes this crash, as if someone pulled the plug. And the feeling of chasing after your own body because it has rules that no one sees.Matthias is my partner and has caught so much. But eventually, you realize: friendship alone doesn't replace strength, can't replace strength. It drains energy to constantly organize, reassure, hope that it won't tip over this time. And it makes you lonely when you constantly have to explain why "just a moment" isn't just a moment.Then Sebastian came as a daily helper. And what was different from the start: Sebastian didn't want to "motivate" me, but to understand. No pushing, no "you just have to...". Instead: calm. Clarity. A pace that suits my body. Sebastian doesn't ask five things at once, but one. Waits. And if I notice it's too much, it's not a drama, but simply a stop.Sebastian helps me with exactly the things that otherwise feel like obstacles: preparing food, sorting laundry, taking out the trash, doing small errands, organizing documents. Things that sound trivial but quickly become too much for me. When brain fog comes and I'm searching for words or can't concentrate, Sebastian remains calm. Then "We'll get this done now" becomes "Today we'll only take the first step." And sometimes that's the complete salvation.