I don't want to.

I've been going back and forth about whether or not to write this post. I know that it's going to be a touchy one, but I also know that it's an important one. So, I'm writing it. I'm doing it. Here we go.

I am the luckiest girl. I have really great parents. I have a beautiful home that they worked hard for. It's in a beautiful place on the water. I have the cutest dog ever. I have great friends (even though I'm kind of sure some of them are only friends with me because of said cute dog.) I was fortunate enough to go to college. I have my degree in something that really matters to me. I am working a job right now that, even though it isn't in my field, makes me happy. I have a car. I have all of the material things that I need and a whole lot of the things that I want.

I am happy.
But I don't want to live this life anymore.

I don't want to wake up in the morning and feel the first twinge of pain before I even open my eyes.

I don't want to reach for my phone to hit my snooze button only to realize that my hand is already touching the phone...I just can't feel it. I don't want another day of not being able to feel my hands or feet. They're there for a reason; I need them.

I don't want to scoot to the edge of my bed and stand up, hoping with everything that I have that my legs are ready to do their thing and I'm not going to just collapse back down onto the bed. Because, it seems simple--"just stand back up," you're probably thinking--but it's not. Starting your day like that is not simple. It's a mobility failure first thing in the morning that is a big reminder of the fact that you are not, in fact, okay. Mobility is taken for granted until it's tested.

I don't want to walk into the bathroom and see my swollen body in the mirror. I don't want to see someone looking back at me that I don't recognize anymore. I don't want to see my swollen eyes that aren't just swollen from sleeping or crying, but are swollen just because they're part of my body and being swollen is what my body does best these days. I don't want to see my swollen hands as I reach for the toothpaste and as I hold the toothbrush. I want to see the rings that used to be on my fingers. My fingers are naked and sad now. I guess at least their sadness fits in, right? I don't want to take off the clothes I went to bed in and see the places where they have cut into my skin overnight. And I don't want to put on new clothes onto the sore, swollen skin that is already mad at me.

I don't want to have to ask for help to open things because my hands can't do it. Sometimes they just drop things. Sometimes they feel like they aren't connected to my body at all. Sometimes they shake. And sometimes they do all of those things at the same time, making it nearly impossible to use them at all.

I don't want to forget my words. I don't want to forget the things that I absolutely should be able to remember. I don't want to get lost in a place that I know by heart. I don't want to stare at something as familiar as a cup and not, for the life of me, be able to remember the word to call it. I don't want to stare at a keyboard of letters and not know which ones to push to make the words I want to write. I don't want to lose the one way that I can truly get out what I'm trying to say.

I don't want to end my day with upwards of twenty pills that may or may not be even making a difference. I don't want to stand in the bathroom, staring at the medicine that I have to swallow, and wonder if the struggle is worth it.

I don't want to have to continue to go to bed at night hoping and praying that tomorrow will be the tomorrow that gets better. I don't want to have to keep going with the "I'm making it" and the "I'm hanging in there" and especially the "I'm doing okay!" lines that I continually say as if I'm a robot.

I don't want to do it anymore. I don't want to live this life anymore.

But I will.

I will because outside of this ugly, messy, awful Lyme life is the beautiful life that makes me the luckiest girl. I will because there are a lot of people that haven't. Either from the hands of this disease or by their own hands, because of this disease. I will live this life because they can't live theirs anymore.

I will live this life because I can. I will live this life because I'm lucky to have it, as hard as it is, as messy as it is, and as scary as it is.

I will live this life because you don't always get what you want.

And sometimes that's the best thing in the world.