Here.

This is another one of those posts that I'm pretty sure applies to more than just me. I'm writing it because right now I'm feeling it. But I know I'm not the only one. I know that my other Lyme friends can feel me on this one. And I know that if you don't have Lyme, but are struggling with something else--be it another illness or maybe just another struggle in your life--you may have felt this way at some point too. So if you're reading this and you understand, I am sorry. I am so sincerely sorry that you've felt this way. Because, there is no other way around it, it sucks.

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Just so you know, I can feel it. I can feel it as you slip further away from me. I feel it as your texts stop coming, and it's longer between answers, and then suddenly I'm the only one texting you and I'm not getting anything back at all. I feel the silence between dings on my phone getting more and more heavy. I feel the weight of the problems I'm coming to you with getting heavier too, in that silence. You don't feel it as your life goes on without me. But I feel it. Oh boy do I feel it.

Just so you know, I can feel it. I can feel the punch in the stomach when I come to you crying and you can't even look me in the eye. Like I'm some kind of diseased creature. I am diseased. But I'm also a human. I'm also your friend. You're supposed to love me through it. Don't you? Don't you love me through it? I thought you told me you'd love me through it.

Just so you know, I can see it. I can see it when you are not talking to me but you are online talking to other people. When I tell you something but you just can't find the time to talk to me about it. But you're finding time to go out with your other friends. Your healthy friends. Your friends that are at the same place in life as you. Your friends that aren't me.

Just so you know, I can see it. I can see you forgetting about me. I can see you moving on with your life while I sit here feeling like I'm rotting in this life that isn't moving on with me. I can see the dust settling as you disappear in the distance. And once it settles I can see everything a lot more clearly. While I'm standing here alone.

And just so you know, I can hear it. I can hear you when you say that you're here for anything. Whenever I need it. No matter what it is. Yet I'm feeling it. And I'm seeing it. And nothing is changing. Nothing is different. And here I am.

I am still me. Here.

And I just need you to be here too.

Wednesday.

I've always been one to remember dates. Two years since this happened. Five since that happened. I've always been that girl. But, since I've been sick, there have been a lot more days like that that have been added to my memory. They aren't all necessarily days that I want to remember. But they are all days that have stuck in my head.

This Wednesday is one of them.

This Wednesday, July 13th, 2016, I turn 26. (That's not the bad part, just in case you weren't sure 🙂) but it's also my six year headache anniversary.

Six years ago, on my 20th birthday, I got a stabbing pain in my head. That pain, and the pain that has grown to radiate around it, has not gone away ever since.

Now, I am by no means telling you this for sympathy. If you've been here long enough you know that I don't write my blog for sympathy. Sympathy is the last thing I want. And, plus, we all have our things that we deal with. One of mine just happens to be a 6-year headache. It's painful, it's been life-altering, and it's nothing i'd ever wish on anyone. But it's also out of my control. And, I mean, shoot, there has to be a Guinness record coming up for me sometime, right?

So, the reason I'm even writing about this is because I believe it's something to celebrate. I believe that the fact that, come Wednesday, I will have woken up for 2,190 days and opened my eyes hoping to not feel the pain anymore, only to realize it was still there is something to celebrate. Because, waking up and doing something that feels nearly impossible every day for 6 years is something to celebrate.

So celebrate I will! And celebrate you should, too. Not my headache-iversary. Unless you are just looking for a reason to celebrate on Wednesday. In which case, you go right ahead and use me as a reason! But, celebrate the anniversary of hard times in your life. Because you made it. You made it through something tough. Whether it's a week. A year. Ten years ago. It doesn't matter. You did it. I've been doing it for six years now and even though I'm still fighting it, I am proud of myself. And you should be too. For any battle you have fought, are fighting, or will fight.

I am strong. And you are too.