A Lymie Guide to the Holidays

With the holidays getting closer, there are a lot of mixed feelings around. There are those of us who love Christmas--every single thing about it. There are those of us who like Christmas, but don't fully get into it. There are those of us who are sad at Christmas, for one reason or another. There are those of us who are sick at Christmas. And there are those of us everywhere in between. 

Notice I didn't put "those of us who are sick at Christmas" into the same category as "those of us who are sad at Christmas." The two can go hand in hand, absolutely. Without a doubt. But they don't have to. Just because you're sick doesn't mean you have to be unhappy. And even if you are unhappy, it doesn't have to take away the magic and excitement of Christmas. 

But, it's not always easy. It's not easy to hang onto the Christmas spirit when you struggle to get out of bed. It's not easy when Christmas hurts just like every other day. It's not easy to watch your healthy friends go to ugly sweater parties, New Years parties, etc. when you can't. It's not easy to watch people live out their holiday season the way you used to be able to--the way you wish you could. 

So, I thought a Lymie's Guide to the Holidays might be helpful. Not just for those of you who have Lyme, but also for those of you who are around someone with Lyme during the holidays. 

So, here you go: 5 steps to not only surviving, but enjoying, the holiday season with Lyme. 

1. Breathe. The holidays can be overwhelming. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but it's definitely a true thing. There are a lot of things to do, a lot of people to see, and a lot of things that you are going to feel. You may not be able to keep up. You may feel like you're being left in the dust of the excited chaos of the season. But if you can remember to stop and take a deep breath, you're going to be okay. 

2. Allow yourself to be selfish. The holidays are supposed to be a time of giving, so having me tell you to be selfish probably sounds a little weird. But, hear me out. Because, when it comes down to it, allowing yourself to be selfish is a form of giving--giving to yourself. When you're sick, you have to learn to say no. "No, I can't come out tonight." "No, I can't go to the mall with you." "No, I can't go for a walk." And it gets a little old. You want to say yes. But, in order to make it through the holidays, you have to say no. There are so many holiday events. There are so many things to do. But you can't do them all. And that is okay. Be selfish. Say no. Think about the things you really want to do--be it Christmas Day with your family, a dinner out with friends, or whatever is the most important to you, and shoot for those. Give yourself the opportunity to rest so you can get through. 

3. Be thankful. If you know anything about me, you know that I am overly thankful and appreciative. But, not everyone is. And that's okay. But, if you haven't taken the time lately to thank the people in your life, what better time to do so than the holidays? Tell the people you love that you love them. Thank them for the things they've done for you. Thank them for sticking around. And, in stopping to think about who and what you are thankful for, you will be reminded how lucky you are. Even on your toughest days. 

4. Forgive. Forgive yourself for not having the year that you planned on having. Forgive the people in your life who may have just not gotten it, or the people who have left you behind. And forgive your body. Forgive your bones for forgetting sometimes that their job is to hold you up. Forgive your muscles for getting lazy. Forgive your brain for taking a break and leaving you hanging without words. Forgive your heart for losing its sense of rhythm at times. Forgive the bacteria that has long overstayed it's welcome. Forgiving won't take the troubles away, but it's necessary. Holding a grudge does no one any good. Forgive and move forward. 

5. Be mindful. Being mindful means being aware of everything in the moment. Your emotions. The way your body feels. The way your heart feels. The happiness. And even the sadness. Take it all in. And run with it. (Don't really run. This is a Lymie's guide, remember? No actual running here.) This will help you appreciate every second that you possibly can. It may not be easy to get through the holidays when you are sick, but it's possible. And if you make the effort to be mindful, you can say without a doubt that you are doing the best you can. 

I hope these ideas helped. And if they didn't help, I hope they at least made you think. If you are reading this and you have Lyme, know that you aren't alone. If you are reading this and you love someone with Lyme, know that you aren't alone either. But also know that your person with Lyme needs you during the holidays more than most other times. 

Together, with these steps and everyone's combined efforts, we can enjoy the holidays. 

It may seem like it's out of reach. It may be hard to remember what a holiday without Lyme feels like. And it may feel impossible to get into the holidays when things have been so rough. 

But, remember, regardless of anything else...

"The bell still rings for those who truly believe." -The Polar Express

"It's okay. I'm used to it."

As I was sitting in the doctors office one day last week, with a tourniquet around both of my wrists, willing the veins in my hands to show themselves so the lady could take my blood, I said something that I haven't been able to stop thinking about since. The lady was tapping my hand to get the veins to come up, and she apologized for having to work so hard and poke me so many times to get my blood. And, without even thinking about it I said "oh it's okay! I'm used to it." 

My intention in saying it was to try and make the poor lady feel better. She was the second person to be called in to try and get my blood, and she was struggling--at no fault of her own, at total fault of my veins--and I felt bad for her. I always do. I find myself apologizing every single time I have blood drawn because it's never an easy task for anyone involved. But, what really bothered me was the truth in what I said to her. 

"I'm used to it."

So often I brush off something that is happening or something that I'm feeling with those words. 

"It's okay. I'm used to it."

But, it's not okay. It's not okay to be used to pain. It's not okay to be used to fear, especially when it's fear of your own body. 

It's not okay to be used to waking up anxious, waiting to open your eyes to see if your head still hurts. It's not okay to be used to feeling like your heart is going to pop out of your chest when you have palpitations that just won't quit. It's not okay to be used to the stabbing pains that go on a tour of your entire body every day, stopping at each joint along the way. ("And to your left we have the enlarged spleen in its natural habitat.") It's not okay to be used to feeling like the ground isn't under you when you stand up. It's not okay to be used to being afraid to go to sleep when you're feeling bad because you're afraid you won't wake up. It's not okay to be used to struggling to remember the name of something that you use every single day. It's not okay to be used to putting chemicals into your body. And it's not okay to be used to feeling like you're going to die without them. 

It's not okay for your friends to be used to you canceling plans on them time and time again. It's not okay for your family to be used to you having to go to the car during a shopping trip because the lights are making you sick in the store again. It's not okay for the people that mean the most to you to be used to you dropping off the face of the earth for a few days because you have to just sleep off the pain.  

It's not okay. 

And, I will continue to tell the blood draw lady that it's okay. I will continue to shrug my shoulders when I wake up with a headache still because, 4 years later, I am used to it. I will continue to tell you that I'm okay with missing out on yet another family function or another day with friends, because it happens all the time. 

But, it's not okay.

Being used to being sick is not fair. And it will never be okay. 

Do's and Don't's of being a person with Lyme.

I have found myself getting really frustrated and confused lately by some things I have been told/have seen/have experienced in the lyme world. So I think it's time for a recap of things that being sick allows you to do vs. things being sick doesn't give you the excuse to do. 

Things being sick allows you to do:

1. Tell your friends, your family, and any other people in your life that you love, that you love them. Often. And sincerely.

2. Appreciate the little things. As cheesy as that sounds. 

3. Take the time to do what your body needs you to do--whether that's sleep all day, sit outside for some air even when it's 35 degrees out, or take 3 baths in one day. 

4. Relate to House episodes more than you ever thought you would. And be annoyed when they say something that's not right. Or when they give a medicine for something you've had that same medicine for and you haven't gotten better but they do. (And then get even more annoyed when you realize you're annoyed over a fictional character's health.) 

5. Really figure out who are you, what you want to do when you're better, and what really is important in your life. 

Things being sick does not give you the excuse to do: 

1. Beg for attention, ask for money all the time, believe that you deserve things handed to you. 

2. Give up on your friends. If your friends are willing to come to you, or do things that you are able to do with them, grab onto that and never let go. Not everyone is lucky enough to have the friends that stick around, so if you do, cherish it. If they're not giving up on you, don't give up on them. Yes they can't fully understand, but if they're still around they're willing to try. And that's worth it's weight in gold. (Or prescription costs. Worth it's weight in prescription costs.)

3. Be angry all the time. Sure, being sick is ridiculously frustrating. And I would be the biggest liar ever if I sat here and said I never got angry. I get angry for lots of reasons related to my health. But I also am really happy. I'm a really happy person 97.6% of the time. And that's okay. Just because I'm sick doesn't mean I always need to be a grump. And it doesn't make me any less sick just because I don't always dwell on how bad it is. The world isn't out to get you. You're out to get the world. And it's always worth the extra effort it takes to kick that anger and be happy. 

4. Think that you're so much worse off than everyone else. Because, maybe you're right. Maybe you are a lot sicker than a lot of people. But it's not a competition. I don't think any differently about you because you're less sick than me. And I wouldn't think any differently of you if you were more sick than me. I am me and you are you. It's not a competition. It doesn't do anyone any good to compete. 

5. Bring your health into ever single conversation ever. "The weather is beautiful today!" "No, it's 67 degrees. And one time when it was 67 degrees out I had this really bad headache and ended up in the ER because it was so bad because I'm really sick and I am on a lot of medicines because I'm really sick because I have lyme and I'm probably sicker than you and anyone you know and I win. I don't know why you like this weather." (Dialogue based off of actual events.) why? ...why? 

And, of course we all slip up. It's easy to get stuck in a lyme funk and not even care. But I just needed to throw it out there as a reminder. 

Positivity.

The way I look at it, every morning when you wake up you have two choices. You can choose to be positive, or you can choose to be negative. Okay, so you can also choose which cereal you want to eat, or if you'd rather have a cookie. So, I guess you really have more than two choices. But for the sake of this post, we're going with just two: being negative or being positive. 

It's easy some days to automatically choose negativity. If the day before ended badly, why not just assume you're going to have another bad day, right? I get that. I think everyone feels that way some days. But, no matter how the day before ended, it ended. It's over. And you have the incredible opportunity in front of you every single day to be positive. No matter what. 

Lately I have seen more negativity than I know what to do with. On Facebook. On the news. On Twitter. In real life. It's constant. It's overwhelming. And it doesn't make sense to me. Of course there are reasons to be negative. There are reasons to be in a bad mood. There are reasons to hate everyone and everything. I'm not sitting here telling you never to feel that way, ever. If I did that, I would be the biggest hypocrite in the world and I would suggest you never read what I had to say ever again. 

But, what it comes down to is really your choice. Are you going to let something that upset you today continue to brew and fester (ew) and take over your world? Or are you going to stop it dead it its tracks? Are you going to wallow in it? Or are you going to cry it out, eat some cake, and move on? It's your choice. And no one can take that from you. But, you owe it to yourself to make the decision that is going to make your life better. (Note: that choice is positivity.) 

Now you're probably wondering why I'm sitting here telling you what to do when I don't even know your story. And, you're right. I don't know your story. But that doesn't matter. You know your story. And the power to choose negativity or positivity is in your hands. Not mine. After you finish reading this, I'm out. I have no more control over anything regarding your life or your story. Your story is your story, just like my story is my story. And there's something uniquely beautiful about that. But what's even more beautiful is positivity. Add those things together and you have a recipe for success--a recipe for happiness.

So now I'm handing you the mixer, and leaving you with the choice. If you are reading this thinking that I'm absolutely crazy and that there is no way to always be positive, you are half right. (The half about not always being positive, in case you weren't sure.) And if you are reading this thinking that sometimes it's hard to be positive, you are absolutely right. It is a challenge. An ongoing challenge. But, if you're reading this thinking about taking on that challenge, even just for one day (because after one day you will realize that it really is worth it), my work here is done. 

So, tomorrow morning, it's all you. And if you can't do it tomorrow, try the next day. That is okay. It's not easy. That's why it's called a challenge. But, I'm in this challenge with you. And I know you can do it. 

Fear.

I have written a few posts lately and then deleted them because I didn't think they sounded right--too whiney, too much like I was begging for attention, too jumbled--just not right in one way or another. But I'm going to try again. And if you are reading this, then I succeeded. Yay me!

Sometimes Lyme is really scary. I try not to focus on that aspect of things. But, it makes its way in there every now and then. And fear is a big emotion. A big, heavy, rude, nasty emotion. And, no matter how hard you try to push it away, it pushes back just as hard, sometimes even a little harder. 

(If emotions were a thing you had to bring home to meet your parents, fear would not be the one to bring.)

And, sometimes, fear can be productive. It can motivate you to get things done, or to make a choice. But most of the time, it sucks. And, right now in my life, it's not productive at all. It's heavy. It's confusing. And, sometimes, it's damn near paralyzing. 

Right now, as I'm writing this, there are tears dripping down my cheeks. And I don't know why. I have no explanation as to why I'm crying, or why I've been randomly crying off and on all day. I'm not sad. I'm not angry. I'm not any kind of anything that should make me cry. But, out of the blue, all day, I've been crying. 

Now, for most people that wouldn't be scary. It's just an emotional day. But, for me, it's scary. It's scary because, for the last few days, I have been able to feel the Lyme moving through my body. I can feel it looking for its next victim, its next place to hide. And today, I can feel it in my brain. (Yeah, my brain. It's as creepy as it sounds. It feels like my brain is shaking. And it feels like there is something fuzzy in my head, making everything a little harder to understand, a little harder to say, and a little harder to make into thoughts. It feels like I'm living in a marshmallow with the occasional shaking of a snow globe.) And, it scares the hell out of me to think that the reason I'm crying is because the bacteria is exploring my brain, and leaving its mark on the part of my brain that controls my emotions. It's scary to think about where it's going to make itself at home next. I find myself feeling something and immediately worrying that it's going to be like that for the next four weeks until things move around again. 

I want it to stop. I want to feel in control of my emotions again. I want to feel in control of my brain again. I want to feel in control of my body again, in general.

And, I may be tough. I may be strong 99% of the time. But sometimes, no matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise, Lyme is really scary. 

Gratitude, pt. 2

There are two things in life that I can't seem to wrap my mind around no matter how hard I try. The first is math. And the second is being ungrateful. 

I'm pretty sure I have written before about gratitude. I think I've mentioned that if I were to have to choose one word to describe myself, it would be "grateful."

And so I don't really get it. I don't get how someone can go through life without that. How can you get up every morning without thanking your lucky stars for simply waking up that morning? How can you go to bed without being thankful that you made it through another day? 

Sure, I have days that are terrible. We all have days that are terrible. That's life. But it doesn't matter. Getting through a bad day is getting through a day, regardless. And having gotten through it means it's over. Sure, maybe the situation that caused your bad day isn't over, but the day itself is over. And every day is a new start; every day is a new chance. 

And, I don't mean "I don't get it" in the sense that I can't believe someone would not live with the attitude of gratitude. (I just wrote and erased about five different ways to write that so it didn't sound cheesy, but it didn't work, so I resorted back to the cheesiest.) I mean "I don't get it" in the sense that I actually, sincerely do not understand. I'm not insulting those who aren't grateful. I guess, what it really comes down to is that I am grateful to be able to be grateful. I'm grateful that I have the mindset that allows me to feel the sincere gratitude that I pride myself on every single day. And when someone in my life is so actively ungrateful, I just can't wrap my mind around it. 

In case you're having a hard time feeling grateful tonight, here are a few things that might be able to spark some gratitude in you. No promises, but hope you might be able to find at least one thing on this list that will help you. 

1. It's almost Fall. And Fall means cooler weather, pumpkins, and the best candles at Bath and Body Works. 

2. You are reading this. Which means you have some method of getting on the internet. A smartphone, a computer, a computer at the library, a friend's computer. Whatever it may be. 

3. Pajama pants. There are few things better than putting pajama pants on at the end of the day. If nothing else, it's a sign that you made it. 

4. The new Dancing With The Stars cast was announced yesterday. 

5. Bath and Body Works body wash can double as bubble bath. I recently discovered this, and now I'm using up all the smells I've received as gifts and don't really want to use as body wash. Perfect solution. 

6. In number 5, I used the words double and bubble. Unexpected rhyming is the best kind of rhyming. 

7. Technology. Some of the most important people in my life I have to communicate with solely through technology. It's weird to rely on something that our parents didn't even have, but it's also the greatest thing ever. 

8. We have options. Every single day. Even if the only choice you make in a day is what to wear, or what to eat for breakfast, or how many more episodes you're going to watch before you go to bed, you have options. And they're yours and yours alone. Imagine a world without options. Options about how we live our life. Options about who we have in our life. Options about which font to use. So many options. 

9. Chick-fil-a sweet tea. Enough said.

10. You have the choice to change your attitude right now to one of gratitude. If you found something in this list that inspired you, great! Now take it, sleep on it, and wake up tomorrow and run with it. I guarantee your list of reasons to be grateful will grow without you even realizing it. 

Sometimes it takes work to be grateful. Some days in the darkest moments it's hard to remember why it's worth it to search high and low for those reasons. But it's always worth it. 

I've been told many times that my attitude is awesome. But what it stems from is gratitude. 

I am grateful. 

And you can be too. 

Distance.

Hi, I'm Leigh, and I'm in a long distance relationship. 

I am in a long distance relationship with my life. 

("How in the world can you be in a long distance relationship your life?" you may be asking.  Well, don't you even worry, I am here to explain.)

Some days it feels like the distance between sick Leigh and healthy Leigh is far beyond anything that I could ever travel. Far beyond anything achievable. And there's no amount of frequent flyer miles or hotel loyalty points that could make the trip any easier. 

My life is really far away from where I want it to be.

And, like any long distance relationship, it comes with a lot of emotions. Fear. Anxiety. Uncertainty. Jealousy. Anticipation. Hope. Excitement. And every now and then an emotion comes along that you didn't even know was possible and it throws itself into the mix. 

There are days when it doesn't seem too bad. Some days it's exciting to think about what you have to look forward to when distance is no longer a factor. And some days it's absolutely terrible, heart wrenching, and soul crushing. 

The fear some days is palpable. I wake up in the morning and the thought of going on with another day is physically painful. The fear just about takes over. But that's when that hope and excitement has to come in. The hope that some day the distance will go away and everything will be better. The excitement that you imagine yourself feeling when you can wrap your life up in your arms and never let it go again. (Maybe I should make a sign to hold up when it comes back, in case it forgot where to go since it's been gone for so long. You know, like people hold up in the airport?)

Sometimes the anxiety is paralyzing. What am I going to be doing when the nausea strikes to the point that I have to curl up and sleep to avoid throwing up? (because throwing up would mean throwing up my medicines, which is counterproductive.) Who am I going to be with when the dizziness takes over and I have to leave a store before I pass out? Who am I going to be having a conversation with when my brain decides it's not going to work with me and I'm left stumbling over my words as if I don't speak English? The anxiety about what's going to come next--the uncertainty of it all--is something I would never wish on my worst enemy. 

And, sometimes, it's impossible not to be jealous. It's hard to watch people achieve everything they want while I'm floating just out of reach of not only myself, but my goals and the things that I've worked so hard for for so long. It's hard not to envy that person who gets to go on regular dates with her life. Or the person who is introducing his life to his family at Christmas. It's hard to be the one who can't bring my life along, because it's so damn far away. And I'm still here, lonely and waiting. 

But the anticipation is always there, as well. A good kind of anticipation.  Reminding me that I always have something to look forward to. Reminding me that someday I will be able to reach out and grab that life again. Reminding me that someday I won't have to wear any more hospital gowns. I won't have to answer any more questions about my health history. I won't have to rip any more tape off my arm after the four attempts at getting my blood in one day. I won't have to take any more medicine that may or may not make my body rebel violently. And I won't have to wake up anymore wondering if today is going to be the day that things start getting better. 

The anticipation is killing me. But killing me in a good way. A hopeful way. 

And, just like any other long distance relationship, I'm not saying I don't love my life. It's actually quite the opposite. If I didn't love it, I wouldn't put in the effort to get it back. If I didn't love it, I wouldn't think about it every second of every day. If I didn't love it, I wouldn't write it's name with hearts around it on the front of my notebook. (Okay, so maybe I don't do that.) 

But what it really comes down to is this--I am constantly pushing towards the day when my life doesn't seem so far away. I am constantly putting myself through procedures, tests, new medications, and frustrating doctors appointments, because I will do anything to bring my life closer to where I want it--closer to where it should be. And, I'm constantly hopeful.

Now, don't get me wrong, that doesn't mean it doesn't suck. That doesn't mean it doesn't feel impossible somedays (a lot of days). That doesn't mean that I'm not constantly exhausted from the emotions that come along with it. And it doesn't mean I don't have days when all I can do is cry because I miss it. But, what it does mean is that I'm lucky enough to have my life at all--long distance or not. And, as long as my life will stick it out, I am happy to wait. (I may need a few extra boxes of tissues, a few more chick flicks, and some cookies while I wait, though.) 

It's hard work. But they say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and I couldn't believe that more. Every day that my life is far away, I learn to appreciate it more. I learn to appreciate myself, and my stubbornness and determination more. 

Lyme may be holding my life in a place far far away, but it can't keep it forever. 

And, I will be a stronger, better person when it comes back. 

Today.

This morning I put on my Lyme awareness shirt. I thought nothing of it. It was clean, I could find a headband that matched it, and I didn't wear it yesterday...check!

I was going to a new doctor today, for a totally non-Lyme-related problem. I was hopeful that I would get an answer to my pain, and that I'd be headed in the right direction again as quickly as it all started. I had no reason to believe otherwise. I've spoken here before about the anxiety that goes along with seeing a new doctor, but I didn't even feel any of that today. I was wearing my favorite lime green flip flops. My hair looked good. I was hopeful. 

I walked into the doctors office, met a friendly nurse, peed in a cup, and went into the room still hopeful. 

Then the doctor walked in. 

And, within 5 minutes all of my hope about the appointment was gone, everything that I know to be true was insulted, and I was left feeling like a puddle on the floor that the doctor had just stepped in, splashing parts of me every which way. I was angry. I was hurt. And I was walking out with no answers, and no relief. 

But then, I walked into the bathroom at a store a few minutes later, and I looked in the mirror. I saw my Lyme awareness shirt and suddenly it meant so much more than it did when I put it on this morning. I realized that my truth is still my truth. Despite the doctor's mean words. I'm still fighting. Despite the doubt that was thrown at me. I'm still winning. Despite the questions about whether or not I was even fighting anything real in the first place. 

And this doctor can knock me down, but he can't keep me there. There was a point when the things he said to me would have crushed me beyond repair. But as I was standing there looking at my Lyme shirt, I realized that my strength was still in there. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm still that puddle that the doctor stomped on today. But you know what's cool about a puddle? It evaporates. It doesn't stay on the ground forever. It makes its way back up to the sky. And that's what I'm going to do. 

I'm going to make my way back up. Maybe not tonight. But tomorrow is a new day. 

This morning when I put on my Lyme shirt, I didn't think anything of it. Tonight when I take it off, I will not take for granted the strength that it reminded me of today. 

If you're feeling like a puddle tonight, know that you aren't the only one. It's easy to feel like you have nowhere else to go once you're on the ground. But I promise you won't be there forever. 

I can do it. And I know that can do it, too. 

Right now.

(First of all, before we actually get into this post, I just wanted to say hi! I feel like I always just jump right into writing without acknowledging the fact that you're on the other end of the internet reading. So, hi there. Thank you for reading!) 

Focusing on right now is hard when you're sick. You always want to compare now to then. Today to yesterday, or today to tomorrow. It's so incredibly easy to get frustrated when you can't do today the same things you could do a week ago. And it's so easy to fall into a rut thinking about what you're missing and what you might not be able to do ten years down the road because of everything your disease is taking from you right now. And yes, those things matter. It's important to look back on the past, and it's important to look forward to the future...but not for the reasons that we do it. 

Let's take my right now for example. I could think back to a couple days ago when I was five hours away from home having an awesome adventure at a safari park with my best friend, and I could 1. be sad that I'm feeling so much worse today than I was that day, and wish I could have that day back....or, 2. be thankful that I had that good day, and be excited for more days like that in the future. (If you're lost, the one I should be doing is number 2.) It's so easy to find yourself feeling bad about the days you're having based on the days you've had...but, what's important is to get yourself into the mindset that you're having a day at all. And you will have more days, if all goes as planned. 

Before I started writing this post, I was sitting here feeling sorry for myself. Not because my life is bad, or because I have it worse than anyone else...but because I had a good day and now it's gone. But that's ridiculous. I'm totally missing the point. I had a good day. Yes I came home in a ridiculous amount of pain. Yes I slept half of the next day away. But I did it. I went five hours away from home (stay tuned for a future post about sick-girl-anxiety), I had an awesome time, and I recharged a little bit with my best friend by my side. I did it. And that's nothing to take for granted. 

The future is a tricky thing too. As you probably know from reading my blog in the past (if this is your first time reading, nice to meet you...now go read the rest of my posts!) I don't work. I'm twenty four years old and I have no job because I'm sick. My friends are getting awesome jobs, moving up in their companies, getting bonuses...and I'm reading books about how to sell things on Etsy so I can work around doctors appointments and bad Lyme days. It's hard not to sit here and think about my friends getting engaged, getting married, having kids, buying houses, and steadily moving forward with their lives. I look at my calendar everyday and almost everything is medical related. Doctors appointments. Pre-op appointments. Surgery dates. Days I need to give myself a shot. And when all you see is that, it's hard to convince yourself that the future is going to be any different. But what's important is to remind myself that it's not my future...it's my right now. 

You know what else is hard? Other people. They see that you're 24 and not working. They see that you don't seem to be moving forward with your life at the same rate as most people. They see that your life is different. But, unless they take the time to look further into it, they don't see why. They don't see your right now; they don't see your today. And it's hard to put your blinders up so you can't see outside of your right now, while at the same time wanting people to be able to see into your right now. I haven't quite mastered it yet. But when I do, I'll let you know the trick. 

But, for now, it's important to know that your right now is okay. It might seem scary (and by might I mean normally does, and by scary I mean absolutely terrifying) but, it really is okay. 

Try not to look too far back, or too far forward. But, if you find yourself doing it anyway, try and focus on the good things. The things that brought you to this point, and the things that you're looking forward to. Comparing right now to the past in terms of what you could do then that you can't now isn't healthy. Dreading the future because it's turning out differently than you expected is counterproductive. 

So, I leave you today with one of my favorite Dr. Seuss quotes..."today you are you, that is truer than true--there's no one alive who is you-er than you." Because, sometimes all you can say when you look at your day (just talking about Dr. Seuss made me a poet) is that you made it through. You did it. You survived. And that's okay. Right now is okay.

Believe in yourself. Believe in your right now. That's what matters. 

5 tips for surviving summer with Lyme.

1. Gatorade. Don't listen to anyone who tells you Gatorade is only for athletes. The point of Gatorade, and other sports drinks like it, is to replenish the electrolytes that your body loses. And, when you have Lyme your body doesn't function like the "normal" human body does. So, the electrolytes that would normally be just fine in a healthy body aren't fine in ours. (I honestly think my electrolytes get a kick out of randomly jumping out of my body and leaving me feeling like a grape on it's way to becoming a raisin.) 

Have a headache? Drink some Gatorade. Going for a walk to the mailbox (which is pretty much the equivalent of a trek up Mount Everest)? Drink some Gatorade. Having heart symptoms? Drink some Gatorade. When you are feeling something, your body is telling you something. And a good way to start listening to it without having to automatically jump to taking medication is to try to replenish your electrolytes first.  

2. Let yourself rest. There is nothing wrong with a nap (or three) in the middle of the day. If you get up in the morning and take ten steps to the bathroom and feel like you can't go any further, fine! Go back to your bed. Or make your way to the couch and flop back down there. And try again later. If you do what your body needs today, you will have plenty of tomorrows to go out and live your life. 

3. Sea-bands. I don't know about you, but I get nauseous. I get nauseous a lot. For logical reasons like riding in the back of a car. And for not at all logical reasons like reaching for something across the table or simply opening my eyes in the morning. (Like, what?!) And, sometimes--a lot of times--you just have to push through it. I've found that the most helpful product in making it through my moments of ridiculous nausea is my sea-bands. All they are are pressure point bands that you wear on your wrists. They have a plastic ball on them that pushes on the pressure point in your wrist that is supposed to help relieve nausea. And they actually work! They're ugly. And they make your wrists sweat. (They look like eighties aerobic class sweat bands.) But they work. I'll take it. 

4. Showers/baths. Now, don't get me wrong...I suggest everyone, whether you have Lyme or not, takes a shower/bath. And I suggest it all year round, not just in the summer. But, when you have Lyme, and you have to go outside (which is unavoidable sometimes) there is nothing like a shower/bath with cool water to help your body remember that it is supposed to be functioning. Don't use hot water, that will only make you feel worse. When you have a Lyme-y body, hot water sets off the detoxing process and leaves you feeling worse instead of better. Stick to cool water in the summer months. Putting cool water on your skin is similar to drinking Gatorade--it gives you a little bit of life back. 

5. Forgiveness. This is the most important one. As a Lymie, summer is going to be difficult. That's all there is to it. Breathing is harder. The clothes that you have to wear if you're going to be outside are generally tighter against your skin than the hoodies and sweatpants we can get away with in winter. Waistbands of shorts hurt. Bathing suit seams hurt. And even simple things like sweating can set off weird reactions in our bodies. And lord help us if we're on antibiotics. Say goodbye to even the tiniest bit of sun. Summer is a struggle. And you have to forgive yourself, and forgive your body, or it's going to be even harder. Can't go to the beach with friends? Go to something at night, or something indoors. Can't do that either? That's OKAY. Forgive yourself. Even if your friends don't, you have to. Summer is hard, but cooler days are right around the corner. That's the awesome thing about summer, it doesn't last long. (Unless you live somewhere that doesn't have cool seasons...in which case I'm sorry. Maybe you should buy a lot of ice packs.) 

Take it one day at a time. All year round, but especially in summer. If you can make it through the hottest, most uncomfortable days with Lyme, you can do anything. And, when all else fails, listen to your body. You know you better than anyone else does, no matter what anyone else thinks. If you listen to your body, and do what it needs you to do, it will repay you with moments of relief and less pain. And those moments will, hopefully, get longer and longer, and show up more and more often. 

Take on summer now (gently, slowly, cooly, and carefully) and you're one step closer to fully taking on life again. 

Lyme-cation?

It's been a while since I wrote here, and I was going to title this post "Lyme-cation," meaning that I had been taking a break from writing about my Lyme. But, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that's a very misleading title. Because, I can't take a Lyme-cation. No matter how hard I try, or how much I work at it, I can not get away from my Lyme. Ever.

And, there are no fancy words, eloquently written phrases, or jokes that I could write right now that would describe that feeling better than these two words: it sucks. 

I think I've tried just about everything to get a break from my Lyme. 

--I've gone on vacation. But it's hard to forget about your Lyme when you open your luggage and find the bag of medicine that you've packed that rivals in size your bag of actual clothes for the weekend. And it's hard to push it to the back of your mind when you're trying to go shopping, or explore a new place, only to have to go back to the car because you're overwhelmed by lights or smells. And it's hard for the person/people you're with to have a good time when you're constantly leaving them (sorry, Mom!). So sure, vacation sounds like a good idea, but it's actually a lot harder than it seems. 

--I've gone to a friend's house. But, again, any length of time away from home requires medicine. And, if I don't stay overnight, I don't have to pack medicine...but I have to leave eventually to go home to take medicine. There's never the option of a spontaneous overnight anywhere without planning ahead of time to make sure you have your meds on hand (totally defeating the purpose of your spontaneity). 

--I've gone out and done the things a "normal" twenty three year old girl does. But, it's not worth it. It's not worth the pain that comes the next morning and sticks around for the next few days. Alcohol does bad things to a lymie body. Dancing does bad things to a lymie body. I have pretty much discovered the hard way that Lyme doesn't like to have fun. Biggest buzz kill award goes to...Lyme!

--I've woken up in the morning determined to go on with my day without thinking about Lyme from that point forward. And then I go to get out of bed and put my feet on the floor. And the pain that comes along with that seemingly simple task blows that whole attempt for me. Good morning, you have Lyme! 

And, it's not even just the days that you make a conscious effort to forget about it. Lyme has a way of finding its way into just about everything, whether you are trying to avoid it or not.

--Going to a new doctor, for something not Lyme related (i.e. a new dentist)? Have to tell them you have Lyme. (Because how else do you explain the absurd number of medications listed on your new patient paperwork?) And in telling them you have Lyme, you have to brace yourself for their response. Are they going to believe in Lyme? Are they going to tell you that you're crazy? Or are they going to be understanding? The anxiety that comes along with mentioning the L-word to someone new is indescribable.

--Want to go out to eat? That's fine. But, are they going to have anything you can eat? Or are you going to have to eat something that you shouldn't just so you're not eating literally just a single piece of lettuce? Is it worth it? Sometimes, yes. But sometimes it's not worth the struggle. And sometimes, if you're like me, you will eat something that you think is totally fine, only to end up with a swollen tongue and hives. That's a fun game. Not. 

--Want to go outside on a nice day? I'm not even talking exerting yourself (because god knows that's a whole 'nother topic) or doing anything crazy...I'm talking about literally walking from your couch inside to a chair outside. Like, standing up, walking, opening the door, walking, sitting. NOPE, sorry! That's crazy talk. Your heart starts to flutter, you get dizzy, everything starts to look a little weird. Better go back inside. We'll try again in November.

I could go on, but for your sake as well as mine, I will end the list here. 

The crazy thing about Lyme bacteria is that it is spiral-shaped. It burrows into every part of your body, and you never know where it's going to strike next. 

The crazy thing about living with Lyme is that the battle is you-shaped. It burrows into every part of your life, when you least expect it, and you never know when it's going to strike next.

And, there are no fancy words, eloquently written phrases, or jokes that I could write right now that would describe that feeling better than these two words: it sucks. 

Okay.

Sometimes I have a hard time letting myself believe that the way I'm feeling is okay. Not just about Lyme, either. Just about life in general. And, since it happens to me, I have a feeling it happens to some of you, too. So, let this post serve as a reminder--if you're having a bad day, if you're having a good day, and even if you don't know what kind of day you're having--everything is okay.

Being sad is okay. Being happy is okay. Being lazy sometimes is okay. Not being able to get out of bed is okay--tomorrow is another day. Laughing is okay. Crying is okay. Being afraid is okay. Eating that chocolate bar is okay. Watching entire seasons on Netflix in one sitting is okay. Having big dreams is okay. Being content is okay. Wanting more is okay--that's what pushes us. Liking what you see in the mirror is okay. Not liking what you see in the mirror is okay--we all have those days. Spending time with friends is okay. Not wanting to spend time with friends is okay. Being passionate about lots of things is okay. Having an opinion is okay. Saying "I love you" a lot is okay. Being sick is okay. Being healthy is okay. Being tall is okay. Being short is okay. Feeling well is okay. Not feeling well is okay. 

Being you is okay. 

Everything is okay. 

A Review of The Fault in Our Stars.

So, you probably expected a post like this. Or maybe you didn't. Does anyone even read this anymore? Are you even reading this now??

Anyway, if you know anything about me (or even if you don't know anything about me other than what you've read on my blog) you know that I think a little deeper into things than the average person...and probably a little deeper into most things than I should. So, when I went to see The Fault in Our Stars this weekend (which was INCREDIBLE, by the way. Seriously, read the book and then go see it!), my brain kicked into high gear and I haven't been able to slow it down since. And, what else would I do with an overflowing brain than let it pour out through my fingers?! 

So, here you go...a sick girl review of The Fault in Our Stars.

First of all, I was originally afraid to read the book. I didn't want to be that stereotypical sick girl reading a book about a sick girl. But, clearly, I got over it. And I read the book. Three times. Once because I just wanted to read it, a second time because I wanted to decided exactly how I felt about it, and a third time because I needed to read it. Needed. There was something about it that was incessantly calling my name until I picked the book up again. And, the third time is when it all really came together for me. 

"I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once."

Okay, so that was cheesy. But, for real, I am not one to get really into a book. I read sometimes, and I generally like what I'm reading, but this one hit me a little differently. I fell in love not with the characters necessarily, not even with the love story that everyone is so obsessed with, but with the way it made my heart feel--like everything I feel on the daily is legitimate, allowed, and okay. 

I guess I should back up and explain for a second in case you haven't read the book. I don't want to give too much away in case you do want to read it (which you should), but I'll give you the general idea. It's a story about a girl with cancer, who falls in love with a boy who also has cancer. He is in remission, she isn't. They genuinely live life while they're together, they go on some adventures, and of them ends up dying at the end of the story (but I'm not going to tell you who, because you should read it!). 

So now, after that incredible synopsis of the story, you are probably wondering how it made me feel so validated. And, honestly, I don't have a cut and dry answer for you. But, I can tell you that the tears that were pouring down my face as I watched the movie were probably not the same kind of tears that everyone else in the theatre was crying. I think it's pretty normal to be reduced to a puddle after watching the movie. But, I wasn't crying because someone died. I wasn't crying because they were sick. I was crying because it was so real. 

I don't have cancer, but I do live with something very similar--something that sometimes makes going on throughout the day feel next to impossible. I am not on oxygen, but I do have moments/days where breathing seems like the absolute hardest thing on the planet. And, I am not being kept alive by an experimental drug, but I am being kept alive by the nearly twenty pills I take twice, some three times, a day. The story is not my story. It's not anyone's exact story. But, the feelings are real. The good ones and the bad ones. That's another thing that was incredible about this movie; when I wasn't crying, I was laughing. So many times I found myself chuckling because they hit things so spot on, and the jokes they made were perfect. And, when I left, my heart felt full. Full because they made a movie out of something that is the reality of so many people's lives. Full because I was feeling so incredibly grateful for the people in my life--the people who came to my mind along with each character in the movie. Full because every person that watches that movie and chooses to look beyond just the love story will see the reality of life for someone who isn't healthy. Full because that movie was the truth. 

Being sick wasn't glamorized. Being sick wasn't made out to be anything that it isn't. Their struggles were realistic. Their happiness was realistic--the fact that not every second of the life of a sick person is miserable was made pretty clear, and that in itself is awesome. And, their sadness was realistic. Their fears were realistic. The ups and downs were all there. 

If I could buy movie tickets/the DVD/the book for every single of one you who who is reading this (again, I'm under the assumption that someone is actually still reading this) I would. If you want to do one thing for someone in your life who is living with any kind of chronic illness, or even for someone in your life who is the caretaker of someone living with a chronic illness, you need to see the movie. If you need a pick me up, or a realization of what really matters, you need to see the movie. And, if you have an overabundance of tissues in your house and you need to get rid of an entire box in a short period of time, you need to see the movie. 

Thirty one.

Well folks, we made it. Together, we made it through 31 days on this Lyme awareness journey. Can you believe you've been reading all the crazy things that have spilled out of my brain and out through my fingers for 31 whole days?! (I'm not sure whether to apologize for your misfortune or say thank you for sticking it out with me!)

Let's recap what we've learned this month, shall we? 

1. Lyme is serious. 

2. Awareness matters. 

3. Your person with Lyme needs you, whether you know what to say or not; just be there. 

4. It's important to think before you speak. Words hurt more than you can imagine, but they can also help more than you know. 

5. Your person with Lyme is trying their hardest. 

6. Yes, someday I will get a job. 

7. Nothing about Lyme is fake. It's a real disease. It's a real struggle. It's all very there and very real. 

8. Yes, I really need to take all this medicine. 

9. Your person with Lyme wants you to ask questions. Don't make assumptions. Don't just wonder. Ask, we will answer. 

10. The littlest things mean the most. 

11. Check yourself for ticks. For real. Do it.  

12. Oh, and did I mention...Lyme is serious and awareness matters?

So, now we have made it to the part where I tell you thank you twelve more times. Thank you for sticking it out with me--not just this month, but through this whole journey so far. Thank you for telling me that you're reading what I have to say--it means the world to me that my words are reaching you. Thank you for taking the time to become aware. Thank you for doing it for me, and thank you even more for doing it for yourself. 

This isn't the end of my blog's life, of course. But it is the end of this month specifically set aside for awareness. I hope you have learned something. I hope you can walk away knowing something that you didn't know when you sat down, fastened your seatbelt, and decided to go on this journey with me. 

Let's not look at this as the end of something. Let's look at it as a beginning. I hope it's not just the end of Lyme awareness month. I hope it's the beginning of a lifetime of awareness. I hope it's the beginning of you taking the extra couple minutes to help ensure that Lyme doesn't happen to you. And I hope it's the beginning of your efforts to look at things a little differently. 

Perspective matters. Awareness matters. 

You may now unfasten your seatbelts. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for taking a closer look into the Lyme life with me. 

"Okay" guilt.

You know the term "survivors guilt"--the guilt that someone feels when they survive something that takes someone else's life? Well, as someone with a chronic illness I have "okay guilt." Similar idea, but obviously not as severe as survivors guilt. But frustrating and upsetting, nonetheless. 

I don't always feel it. Some days I want to scream it from the rooftops that I am feeling okay. But other days, I'm almost afraid to say it. 

The hardest part for me is when a friend--specifically a Lyme friend--tells me that they are having a bad day. If I'm having a good day, I don't want to rub it in their face that my day is better than theirs. But, at the same time, I want them to tell me about their day, always. No matter if it's good or bad. (So really, I'm a huge hypocrite.) It's a constant struggle between telling them about my good day so that they are reminded that good days can happen even when they are having a bad one, or just keeping my mouth shut and listening about their bad day. I would obviously never tell them I'm having a bad day when I'm not, but I've become a pro at keeping the subject on them so my day doesn't even have to be addressed. The fear of making them feel even worse is constantly there. 

I also struggle with saying that I'm having a good day because I don't want to settle on the idea that how I'm feeling is as good as it's going to get. I'm afraid that if I say I'm having a good day, or that I'm doing okay, when I'm not feeling 100%, that I'm settling with how things are. You know how at the hospital, they ask you how bad the pain is on a scale of 1-10, and you're afraid to say 10 because you don't know if this is actually the worst pain you're ever going to have and you want to save that 10, just in case? I feel the same way about saying I'm okay. If my day is only a 6/10, that is okay in terms of it being better than a 2/10...but I don't want a 6 to be good. I want a 10/10 day. So, saying that a 6/10 day is okay seems like settling. 

So, basically, I'm "okay" impaired. That's what you can take away from this post. But, it doesn't mean that I don't appreciate my okay days...I just am not ready to scream them from the rooftops yet. 

But, if you do hear "I'M OKAYYYYY!" randomly floating through the air anytime soon, you'll know I've figured it all out. 

Co-infections.

In my first post this month, I told you that I have two (possibly three) co-infections along with my Lyme. I don't think I really ever went into what my co-infections are, though. There are more than a dozen tick borne infections that are recognized in the United States, and they all have their own crazy, and sometimes scary, symptoms. 

(Co-infections happen when you are bitten by a tick that carries multiple infections, and it is nice enough to pass them all to you!)

The first co-infection I was diagnosed with (before I even had my Lyme diagnosis) was Ehrlichia. There are two types of Ehrlichia--HGE and HME. HGE (also known as Anaplasmosis) stands for Human Granulocytic Ehrlichiosis, and HME stands for Human Monocytic Ehrlichiosis. The difference between the two is which type of white blood cells it attacks. In my case, I have HGE. The bacteria affects my Granulocytes. 

Ehrlichia/Anaplasmosis usually starts with a high fever, muscle pain, fatigue, and headaches. In my case, I was originally told it was Mono. So, think Mono symptoms, and you've pretty much got the gist of acute Ehrlichia. However, after the initial onset it can also cause low white blood cell counts (makes sense, since it affects the white blood cells), elevated liver enzymes (one of the symptoms that lead to my diagnosis was an enlarged liver due to elevated liver enzymes), kidney failure, and respiratory problems. In a lot of cases, diagnosis of Ehrlichia comes after treatment for Lyme doesn't seem to be making much of a difference. Treatment for Ehrlichia is done with antibiotics.

The other co-infection that I have gotten a positive blood test for, and have been treated for (and actually am currently treating a relapse of) is Babesia. Babesiosis is an infection caused by a malaria-like parasite. (Yeah, that freaked me out when I first learned about it, too!) Unlike Ehrlichia, which infects the white blood cells, Babesia infects the red blood cells. Babesia is not only tick borne, but also can be transmitted through a contaminated blood transfusion. 

The symptoms of Babesia are very similar to Lyme. As the infection progresses, the most common symptoms are drenching night sweats, anxiety, fevers, pain in the bottoms of the feet, headaches, muscle aches, nausea, and vomiting. In a lot of cases, the symptoms are so similar to Lyme that the Babesia infection isn't suspected, and is only discovered by blood work. It's much more dangerous in people who have weakened immune systems--which is why it is a big deal for those of us who have Lyme. The treatment for Babesia is anti-malarial medications.

I also have been clinically (without a blood test, just by symptoms) diagnosed with Bartonella. Bartonella is an infection of the cells caused by a parasite. It can be transmitted by both ticks and fleas. The initial infection is usually pretty mild, but once it decides that it's going to stick around for a while, it affects the whole body. Symptoms include fevers, fatigue, headaches, swollen glands, sore throat, extreme neurological symptoms (Bartonella is often suspected when someone's neuro symptoms are more prevalent than any other symptoms) and a weird striped/streaked rash. The rash looks like stretch marks, but appears randomly and not in connection with any other body changes (weight gain, weight loss, height changes, etc.) and often appear at the same time as other new symptoms. The treatment for Bartonella is antibiotics. 

(Okay, phew. We made it through all of that information. Are you still with me? Take a deep breath. Get a snack if you need to. We're almost done!)

So basically, what all of that boils down to is the fact that Lyme treatment is hard...but trying to treat Lyme with the added confusion of co-infections is seemingly a million times harder. Every co-infection on it's own a struggle, but add two or more together and it things get really difficult. 

Also, on every co-infection symptom list that you find, at the very bottom is a word that I have purposefully left out of my descriptions until now. That word is "death." I have chosen not to talk about that because 1. what good does it do anyone to think about death? 2. I'm not letting that be an option in my life, and 3. Isn't death a symptom of just about everything these days? Yes, these co-infections are serious. Yes, they could kill us. But, that's not anything worth thinking about, if you ask me!

The point in me throwing all of this information at you was not to tell you how bad these co-infections are for people who have them. The point was, like every other post this month, to make you aware. Aware of what people in your life who have these struggles are actually dealing with. And aware of what could happen to you if you decide that tick checks and proper tick prevention isn't important. 

Lyme isn't the only tick-borne threat. Please don't let these things happen to you. 

Herxing 101.

In the past, when I've been herxing, I've always just said that I'm feeling extra bad or that I'm reacting to a new medicine. Just because it's easier to explain that way. But, since this month is for awareness, I figured maybe I should go into what herxing actually is.

The word herx is short for Jarish-Herxheimer Reaction. It was named after two people who first wrote about details of the reactions in the early 1900's. Herxing doesn't only happen with Lyme, though. It also occurs with Rheumatoid Arthritis, Tuberculosis, Syphilis, Relapsing Fever, and Candida. And, not even everyone with Lyme experiences herx reactions. Much like everything else Lyme related, it is different for everyone. 

Herxing happens when bacteria die off and a large amount of toxins flood your blood and tissues. (Generally caused by the start of antibiotics or other treatment.) Basically, the body realizes that it's being taken over by the dead bacteria and toxins and it tries to get rid of the bad stuff quicker than it actually can. (You know, like when you see a spider crawling on you, and you freak out and try to get the spider off...but your body can't move as fast as you want it to?) During a herx, the bacteria that is inside of your blood cells is killed off (yay!) but the host cell is killed off at the same time (noooo!). When your cells start to die off, your immune system goes into panic mode and causes a vicious inflammatory response. 

So, basically, lets look at it like this...

There is Lyme hiding in your knee--->You start new treatment--->The bacteria (and cells) die off in your knee--->Your immune system realizes something is up and calls its inflammatory friends over to help attack--->Your knee swells up. 

Similarly, if your Lyme is in your brain at the start of new treatment, your brain will react the same way as your knee did. This causes an increase in neurological symptoms. Bacteria in the heart causes a herx reaction that includes cardiac symptoms. Bacteria in the lungs causes a herx that includes respiratory symptoms. Etc.

The hardest part of a herx is trying to figure out if what you're feeling is actually a herx, an allergic reaction to the new medication, or just an increase in symptoms that just happened to correspond to the start of a new medicine. (Yes, it's as confusing as it sounds.) There are some symptoms that generally go along with a herx, though, that can kind of help you pinpoint what is going on. Also, timing is key--a herx generally starts a day or two after starting a new medicine.

Again, a herx is different for everyone, but these symptoms are pretty common across the board...

-increased fatigue

-increased joint or muscle pain

-skin rashes (In my case, I get splotchy red rashes, and open sores on my scalp.)

-irritability (I am a redhead, so irritability is pretty much the norm in my every day life...but, it is definitely worse when I'm herxing.)

-extreme dizziness (I feel like I am floating above whatever I'm sitting/lying on.)

-sleep disturbances 

-muscle cramps 

-night sweats (I sometimes wake up and wonder if I sleep-swam.)

-migraines

-swollen glands 

-metallic taste in the mouth (I don't get metallic, but I do sometimes feel like I'm eating a sharpie.)

-chills

-nausea

-fevers

-heart palpitations (Sometimes I feel like my heart is going to flutter out of my chest)

-bone pain

-mental confusion (...what?)

Of course, that just scrapes the surface, but it kind of gives a general overview of the weird world of herxing. So now you know. When I tell you that I'm feeling bad after I start a new medicine, this is what is going on. And, even though it sounds rough (and don't get me wrong, it is rough), it's not all a bad thing. Herxing means that something is happening. It means the antibiotics are reaching the bacteria. And, in order to get better, things have to happen; bacteria has to die. 

So, each herx may feel like a million steps back, it really is a step in the right direction. A weird, bumpy, uncomfortable step in the right direction...but a step nonetheless.