"Burbank, Leigh"

There are a lot of different reasons that I blog.

-I blog because something comes up that I want to remember.
-I blog because I have something to say that I think other people might want to hear or might get something out of.
-I blog when I can't sleep.
-I blog on particularly special or meaningful days.
-I blog during times when I'm lonely because, if nothing else, my blog will listen.
-I blog when I feel like awareness about something really needs to be shared.
-I blog when I want you to feel like you're not alone.
-I blog when I want to share something happy.
-I blog when I'm just feeling creative.

And I'm sure there are even more reasons. Those are just what I came up with off the top of my head right now.

Today I am blogging for a mix of those reasons.

Things have been weird lately. I'm in a really weird spot in my life and in some really weird relationships with people in my world. And I just feel very weird. Everything is just weird.

(Say weird again. Weird.)

And, I don't even want to talk about my Lyme stuff. Nobody wants to hear about my Lyme stuff anymore. And to be completely honest, I don't even want to hear about my Lyme stuff anymore. It's the same story every day. Except when it isn't. And then it's just scary. And I don't really want to face that either. And when something new and scary happens, I find myself wondering who to even talk to. Because, honestly, we're at the point where it's been going on so long that everyone has filed (pardon my language) "Lyme bullshit--Burbank, Leigh" into the back of their minds. Or even out of their heads completely, into the back file room for the files that they forget are there until they clean out at the end of the year. And I really can't blame them for that.

The problem though is that I can't file it away. So when something new happens, or something scary happens, it's front and center for me. Right in front of my face. Not only screaming at me from wherever it is inside of my body, but also screaming at me from the outside--"hey Leigh! Look at me! I'm making you worse! Suckaaa!" (I really picture Lyme as little green spiky monsters that run around being super destructive. And I hear them with little British accents. Which makes me want to love them because, come on now, British accents. But then they're just so mean that I can't love them, despite their British accents.)

So really, I guess what all this 1:30am rambling comes down to is this--I am jealous. I am jealous that you can choose to file me away. I wish that I could just take the "Lyme bullshit--Burbank, Leigh" folder and shred it completely. But I can't. I can't do anything but live with it. I can't do anything but wake up every morning and hope that nothing new is coming. And I can't do anything but live with that fear without letting that fear stop me from living. I can't do anything but have my mom read the medicine paperwork for side effects because I don't want to know anything and I don't want to convince myself of anything. I can't do anything but cry it out when I feel alone and terrible and it's a Friday and I can't call my doctor's office until Monday. I can't do anything except continue to push through. I can't do anything but put a smile so big on my face and a kimono so colorful on my body that people can't help to tell me that I look good even when I'm feeling the absolute worst. I can't do anything but to win my days even when I feel like my brain is slowly killing me.

And please, please just know that I am trying.

If I text you and remind you that I love you, that is trying; that is reminding you that I couldn't fight this fight without you. That means I'm thinking of how thankful I am for you. That text may be little, but it really comes from my heart. Every time. It means I know that you're trying too.

If I text you and ask you if I can talk about my Lyme, that is trying; that means I really need someone but I don't want to spill it all on you at once. That means I've been holding it back but I just can't anymore. That means I trust you. That means I just need a couple minutes to not be okay and then I'll pull myself back together.

If I ask you to hang out, that is really trying; I haven't been able to do a whole lot lately. But if I'm asking to hang out, that means I really appreciate you and our time together. (That also means I just want to sit on your couch. Let's not get crazy here.) Thank you for being in my world and for trying with me, too.

If I tell you how I'm really feeling, that is definitely trying, and that is what I'm doing with you right now. Thank you so much for continuing to do this crazy, weird, life thing with me.

I may be feeling super weird about a lot of things right now. I may be in a place that I've never been and I may not be quite sure how to navigate it. And it may be a little lonely. But I'm trying. And I'll get there. Somehow.

And, if you've read this far, thank you. Seriously. Thank you. Thank you for reading my messy heart. And if you are feeling something like this right now too, you are not alone. I promise.