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.