"But how does it feel?"

A couple weeks ago, I was talking to someone about my Lyme and they asked me a question--"but how does it actually feel?" 

And I paused for a second. 

I wasn't sure how to answer. That's not normally a question that I'm asked. And it's also not a question that I felt like I could adequately answer in the short conversation that we were having. My brain was scrambling, trying to come up with an answer that 1. got my point across, 2. moved the conversation along, and 3. didn't sound whiny in the process. But during my pause, the person I was talking to said "does it feel like you have the flu all the time?" 

And I said yes. 

I said yes because that's what make sense to anyone who doesn't know. I said yes because if you haven't been chronically ill, having the flu all the time really does seem like the worst thing ever. I said yes because I didn't know what else to say. And, luckily, after an "oh my goodness. I don't know how you deal with that," the conversation moved on. 

But I've been thinking about that conversation constantly for the last couple weeks. Because I have a better answer. I have so so much more of an answer. 

Lyme feels like...your bones are on fire. 

Lyme feels like...there are bugs in your brain. 

Lyme feels like...there are a million tiny needles poking into your skin.

Lyme feels like...there are icepicks in your ears.

Lyme feels like...your brain isn't yours. 

Lyme feels like...your stomach can't take anymore meds without actually bursting into flames. 

Lyme feels like...you can't fit in your skin. 

Lyme feels like...you are constantly, over and over again, being run over by a truck. 

Lyme feels like...your joints are simultaneously being squeezed with vices and ripped apart by dinosaurs. 

Lyme feels like...words don't make sense.

Lyme feels like...your teeth are being pulled out.

Lyme feels like...your legs are going to break before you even stand on them in the morning. 

Lyme feels like...you have glass stuck in the bottoms of your feet.

Lyme feels like...a kind of tired you didn't even know existed.  

Lyme feels like...you're fighting a million battles and slowly losing a war. 

Lyme feels like...the worst type of heartbreak. 

Lyme feels like...a nightmare you can't escape. 

Lyme feels like...the sting when you realize that the messages from those "I'll always be there for you" friends are fewer and farther between. 

Lyme feels like...a battle between extreme gratitude and total despair. 

Lyme feels like..."maybe they're right; maybe I am just crazy." 

Lyme feels like...every inch of your body is screaming for help.

Lyme feels like...knowing you can't do something but doing it anyway. 

Lyme feels like...Lyme feels like..."I just don't think your life is something I can deal with right now." 

Lyme feels like...guilt.

Lyme feels like...failure. 

Lyme feels like...somehow still holding onto hope despite everything. 

Lyme feels like...the love of the people on the same journey that you find along the way. 

Lyme feels like...a new perspective. 

Lyme feels like...finding strength within yourself that you didn't know was possible. 

Lyme feels like all these things and so many more. Yet I couldn't find an answer. And I probably won't be able to next time I'm faced with the same question. 

Because even though I know how it feels, I live how it feels...Lyme feels indescribable. 

The end of May.

Well friends...it's the end of the month. Normally when I get to the end of May I can write a post saying that we made it. That we blogged every day in May. But this year we didn't. 

This year I kind of failed. 

I had quite a few days this month where I got home from my nannying job, did a little bit of work on my LuLaRoe job from my iPad in my bed, sometimes ate dinner, sometimes didn't even make it through that, and then fell asleep until I had to get up and do it all again. This month has been trying. Exhausting. Frustrating. And a total test of my strength. 

And my blog kind of fell by the wayside a little bit. 

And I'm sorry. 

But next year we will try again. Hopefully things will be different then. Hopefully I will not be in treatment anymore. And hopefully that will be because I'm better. Hopefully I will be working. And hopefully I will be living my life. 

So, here's to next year. And every day until then. May you stay healthy, happy, and tick free. And know that I'm always here for you. 

Xoxo. 

Hope, sleep, repeat.

There have been some days lately when I've been feeling pretty crappy. I haven't known what to write here or how to talk about it because I have never wanted this blog to just be an update space for my Lyme life. I could easily have just posted "I DONT FEEL WELL LYME SUCKS AND THINGS ARE BAD RIGHT NOW." It would have gotten my message across. Give or take a few punctuation marks. But it kind of lacks the mood that I try to keep going around here. 

I have always prided myself on my ability to hold onto hope. Even when things have been the darkest. And I wouldn't, by any means, say things are the darkest right now. My head is not in a bad place. But my body is. And it's hard to hold onto hope when there are days when you can't even hold onto a cup. 

You know? 

But I'm doing it. Sometimes right now I just need to sleep when I can. Because that's all my body can do. And that's okay. I wake up and try again. I'm holding on tight to the things in my life that make me really happy, to keep my head in the good place that it is right now, even though my body isn't there with it. And I'm using the little bit of strength that I have left after that to hold onto hope. 

Because sometimes that all you can do. And that is okay. 

Just hope, sleep, repeat. 

Safe.

Being sick is scary. Sometimes it's hard to feel safe. Not necessarily safe in your surroundings (though sometimes that is true--in hospitals, in new doctors offices, in public when you aren't feeling well, etc.) but safe in your own body. Your body is a constant war zone. It's constantly fighting itself. There is rarely a calm moment. In your body or in your brain. 

So, it's of utmost importance to find things that make you feel safe. Things that, no matter what is going on inside of your body, make you feel secure on the outside. 

Here are mine:

1. My moose. I have a stuffed moose that was given to me by my bereavement counselor when my grandfather died when I was 14. It has slept in my bed every night since. It went to two different colleges with me. It's lying next to me right now. It's head is barely hanging on. It's stuffing is flat. But it makes me feel safe. When I feel like my body is so against me that nothing is ever going to be okay again, I cry into it. When I feel like I can't breathe, I hold onto it with all of my might that I have left. When I come home from a surgery, my mom lays it next to me when I get back into my own bed. It makes me feel okay. 
2. My car. When I'm in a public place, I get anxious. Not because I am scared of the place or the people or anything like that. I get anxious because I'm afraid I'm going to not feel well all of a sudden (due to past experiences) and I'm not going to be able to get to my car. So, when I'm in places and don't have access to my car, I feel scared. So, my car is another thing that definitely makes me feel safe. My car can take me home. My car can take me to where I can feel better. Or, if all else fails, I can sit in my car with the air conditioning blasting until I feel a little more okay again. 
3. My t-shirt blanket. I have a t-shirt quilt made out of all of my important t-shirts from high school and college. Band shirts, theatre shirts, more band shirts, camp shirts, more band shirts. I had it made a year or so after I graduated college. It goes with me to every surgery in my backpack. It's been to Pennsylvania a few times for treatment. And, even if it doesn't come out of the bag, I know it's there. (But most of the time it does come out of the bag.) 
4. My dog. I don't think I need to explain this one any further. 

When it comes down to it, it can be anything. The smallest thing, or something not tangible at all. Whatever makes you feel secure outside when you're living in a body that is so chaotic inside. The littlest thing can make a world of difference. 

An explanation.

This is kind of an uncomfortable post to be writing, but I'm writing it anyway. I've gotten a few comments on my blog itself, a comment or two in person, and a message on fb about this subject and I feel the need to explain something. Whether or not I actually need to explain myself, I'm not sure, but I feel like I do. 

I never promised positivity on my blog. 

I promised the truth. And that's what I'm giving you. 

I by no means want this to be a negative space. I don't want you to come here and read what I write and leave feeling down. I by no means want you to read what I write and leave feeling sorry for me. And I by no means want you to read what I write and leave feeling annoyed because you feel like I'm complaining. Those are the last things I want. 

I want you to read what I write and understand the severity of my situation and realize that you don't want it to happen to you. Or if it has already happened to you, I want you to realize you aren't alone. Or, if it has already happened to someone in your life, I want you to maybe get a little bit of a better understanding of what they're going through. Mostly I just want you to know the truth. I want you to see it through my eyes. I want you to see it because I don't want you to ever have to feel it. 

I promised you from the beginning that I would tell you the truth but I never once promised you that every day would be rainbows and butterflies. So, I'm not going to give you rainbows and butterflies every day. And I'm sorry if that disappoints you. But the Lyme life is nowhere near rainbows and butterflies every day. 

Thank you to those of you who are willing to try and understand. I appreciate you. And I promise to continue to bring you the truth, with all its ups and downs. 

I wonder.

Sometimes I wonder what it's going to be like to have my life back. 

I wonder what it's going to be like to be able to get up in the morning and go on about my day without thinking anything of it. To be able to be spontaneous. To not have to think about medications. To be able to do things without worry constantly in the back of my mind. To be able to do things without thinking about what symptom that will exacerbate. Just to be able to live my life like I should be able to. 

I wonder what it's going to be like to wake up one day without a headache. It's been almost seven years. I don't know if I remember what it feels like to not have one.

I wonder what it's going to be like to have my brain back. I wonder what it's going to be like to be able to come up with words when I need to. I wonder what it's going be like to be able to remember all the things that I've forgotten. What it's going to be like to not feel like there are bugs running through my brain and eating the parts that I worked so hard to build. 

And mostly, I wonder if all of that's ever going to happen. 

I wish with everything that I have. I work with all of my might.

But mostly, I wonder. 

5 things about me

Well friends, I did it again. I fell asleep last night without blogging. I woke up this morning, though, and realized that I did it, and didn't feel guilty this time. I needed to sleep and that's what I did. 

So, I'm sorry there was no blog yesterday. But, I'm back today! And that's what matters, right? 

Let's not talk about Lyme today, though. Just because I don't feel like it. Lyme is bringing me down lately. And I don't want to write about something negative tonight. So instead, I'm going to tell you 5 things about myself that aren't Lyme related. 

1. I really like jail/cop shows and documentaries. Anyone who sees my Netflix history would probably be pretty worried. 
2. One of my favorite things is to turn the air conditioning up on my feet in the car on a really hot day right before I get out of the car so my feet are cold when I get out into the heat. I obsessively clean my ears with q-tips. Yes I know it's bad for my ears. 
3. I thought the phrase "for all intents and purposes" was "for all intensive purposes" until last year. 
4. I really like food that is tiny and round--dippin' dots ice, couscous, that other tiny round pasta, etc.
5. I love being in an airport. Especially if I'm alone. I love people watching and I think the airport is the best place to do it. 

So there you go! There are 5 things about me! Back to Lyme stuff tomorrow. I just needed a break from talking about it. I may have to live it every day, but sometimes I need a break from talking about it. 

Thanks for understanding! 

Xoxo

Tick removal do's and don'ts

I've been seeing a post floating around on Facebook that shows someone putting peppermint oil on a tick to remove it. It looks like it would be a good, easy, painless way to do it. But please. For the love of all things. Don't do it. Do not put ANYTHING on a tick to make it back out on its own. Because, it doesn't just innocently back out. Before it backs out, it spits out everything that's in its body. 

Think about that. 

That means that every disease that's inside of that tick is now inside of you. 

Instead, grab the tick as close to the skin as possible (so that you're grabbing its head) and pull straight up. Do not twist as you pull up, that can cause the head to break off and be left in your skin. Don't squeeze or twist the body; that release what's inside, too. Then, put the tick in a ziplock bag and get it tested. If your doctor will not do it the following organizations will do it or will direct you to a place that meets your needs better:

Igenex: http://www.igenex.com/testing/tick-testing/

Bay Area Lyme Foundation: http://www.bayarealyme.org/lyme-disease-prevention/tick-testing/

U Mass Amherst: https://www.tickreport.com

And do not panic. You are taking the steps you need to take. You are doing what you need to do. 

And, of course, if you do find a tick and have any questions, feel free to ask me! That's what I'm here for. 

"What have you been up to?"

When I haven't talked to someone for a while, they normally say something along the lines of "fill me in on your life!" or "what have you been up to?" and in my brain it goes a little something like this:

Well...this morning I woke up and didn't know where I was for a second. I felt like I was hungover and I didn't even drink last night. I haven't drank in years, actually. It took me a second to stand up because the bottoms of my feet felt like they were on fire. Then I took about 10 pills and now I feel like I'm going to throw up and my insides are burning. Then the middle of my day was okay. Pretty normal. Now tonight my head is throbbing, I feel like I have ice picks in my eyes and ears and fire ants in my brain. I can feel each little piece in the bottom of my spine. My fingers are tingling. My face is swollen and numb on one side. I have a sharp pain where my gallbladder was, even though my gallbladder is gone. Going to go to bed in a little while and not be able to sleep. Probably get sad and anxious. And then do it all over again tomorrow, give or take some. 

So I answer "oh not much! Nothing exciting! How about you??" 

And normally that will do. 

"What does it do to you?"

I've found myself in quite a few situations lately where I've been talking to people who don't know a whole lot about Lyme. And, don't get me wrong, that's awesome! Obviously that's my goal here--to educate people about it. But they always seem to ask me the same question: "so what does it do to you?" and I have to stop and think for a second. 

What does it do to me? 

I've been sick for 11ish years now. I've only been alive for 26. So for almost half of my years I've been sick. Sometimes it's hard to differentiate between what is Lyme and what isn't at this point. 

There are some things that are really obvious, of course. Things that I know aren't normal. But then there are some things that I have been feeling for so many days that I sometimes wonder if maybe that's how everyone feels.

I always find a way to answer their question. I give them a short list of the biggest symptoms I have. I generally give them the ones that are the things that they would notice if they had it. And I tell them that it has affected me neurologically, because that's the one that gets them to take it seriously for themselves. Because no one wants that to happen to them. 

But when I really think about it, when I really think about what Lyme does to me--what it has done to me--there's only one answer. 

It has completely turned my life upside down. 

Attention.

I had a different post written for today. I had copied it from my notes app and was getting ready to paste it into my blog when I decided I wanted to write this instead. It sparked from something I wrote in the other post and I decided I needed to run with it. So here we go. Let's run. Except not really. I can't run. I have Lyme. Hey, hi, hello. 

Okay, so I wrote a sentence earlier that said "I don't want attention." But then I was thinking about it. I do want attention. I want all the attention I can get. I want every last bit of your attention and your friends attention and the attention of everyone that you know. Because that's how my words are going to make a difference. Attention is how awareness is going to spread. I'm just one person. But if I get your attention, then we're two people. And if I get your friend's attention then we're three people. Three people who know what to do if we get bitten by a tick. Three people who know what to do with that tick. Three people who know what to fight for at the doctors office. Three people who know that it's serious. Three people who are changing the world three people at a time. 

So I want attention. I want all the attention. GIVE ME YOUR ATTENTION. I know plenty of people, myself included, who wish they would have had the chance to pay attention.

Before it was too late.

Determination--survival key #10

#10: determination 

I don't want to write today. I don't want to talk about my Lyme. I don't want to live the kind of life that is blog-worthy. But I also know that writing here is part of my healing process. It's part of my journey. And I'm determined to do everything that I can to get where I need to be. 

So I'm doing it. 

I said from the beginning that I couldn't promise eloquently written posts every day. And this is one of those days where it isn't going to be eloquently written. But I also promised that they would always be real. And that's also what this is. 

Because I'm determined. I'm determined, no matter how hard it is, to show you the truth. 

For you, and for me. I'm determined. 

Someone who will just listen--survival key #9

#9: someone who just listens. 

When you're sick, there are a lot of people who want to hear your story. But, you learn very quickly that a lot of people want to hear, but not many people want to actually listen. 

It's super important to find someone who will just listen. 

Someone who won't tell you what they think you're doing wrong. Someone who isn't going to automatically tell you you need a therapist. Someone who isn't going to tell you that this is happening to you for a reason. Someone who will be there when you don't even really know what you need. Someone who won't leave you feeling even more alone. Someone who will just listen. 

It's hard. It's hard to realize that some people are always going to have an opinion and advice that isn't going to be helpful. It's hard when you feel like you aren't asking for much but it seems like you can't get that one thing. It's hard to realize that some people who you thought you could talk to--who you thought would listen--aren't who you thought they were.

But it's worth losing the people who need to be out of your life to find the ones who need to be in it. To find someone who will just listen. 

This Lyme life will leave you lonely. But, I'm convinced that there is someone out there who will just listen. We just have to keep trying til we find them. 

I know you can do it. 

Hope--survival key #8

#8: hope

This one may be post #8, but it would be #1 if you asked me to list them in order of importance. A dog is a close second. Of course.

Let's talk about something serious for a minute. It's a sensitive conversation to have. But it's an important one.

Suicide is a leading cause of death in people with Lyme disease. Lyme is a long, life-altering, devastating, debilitating, crazy illness. It's lonely. It's confusing. And it can sometimes feel hopeless. Lyme also takes over your brain, alters your thoughts without your control, and leaves you feeling emotions that don't make sense. When there are bugs in your brain, your brain is no longer yours. And that can sometimes have devastating consequences. 

The key is to hold onto hope. 

Sure, I've felt hopeless. Of course I've felt defeated. I've laid on an operating table and told the doctor that I didn't want to do it anymore. I've even written here about the emotional and psychological effects that Lyme has on me. But I am, so fortunately, always able to bring hope back to the top. 

There is a Latin phrase that really brings this one home for me. "Dum spiro, spero" means "while I breathe, I hope." And that pretty much sums it up in one phrase better than I could in a million words. 

There may not be a lot going my way. There may not be a lot of progress. There may not be a lot that feels positive. But there is always hope somewhere. 

And, as long as I am breathing, I will always find it. And I sincerely hope you can, too.

Patience--survival key #7

#7: patience 

The Lyme life is a waiting game. Always a waiting game. 

First you wait for a diagnosis. You know something is wrong. You may even know that it's Lyme. But you have to wait to find a doctor who will believe you. And then you have to wait for a positive test, which could take days, weeks, months, or even years. 

In my case it took years. 5ish years to find a doctor who told me I wasn't crazy and that he would help me. Then another 3 years for a diagnosis. 

After a diagnosis you start treatment. You wait to figure out if insurance is going to help you with any of it. Then when you find out that insurance won't help you (chances are they aren't going to help, by the way.) Then once you get to start treatment, you wait for the meds to do their thing. Whether it's side effects or positive effects. You wait to feel like something is happening. 

And treatment is long. Sometimes months long, sometimes even over a year long. So you keep waiting. You keep waiting for the day that you wake up and feel better. You keep waiting to have your life back. You keep waiting to feel human again. 

And sometimes that doesn't happen. Sometimes the medicine isn't the right one. Sometimes the side effects outweigh the positive effects. Sometimes you have to start over with a new treatment regimen. 

Patience is key. You have to know that things aren't going to happen immediately, but you have to keep trying anyway. You have to keep pushing forward no matter how long it's taking. 

You have to be hopeful and you have to be patient.

Because honestly, sometimes waiting is the only thing you have to look forward to. And sometimes that's better than nothing.  

A dog--survival key #6

#6: a dog. 

Okay, so maybe this one isn't a key to everyone's survival when they have Lyme...but it's certainly a key to mine.

If you know me in real life, you know that I love my dog. Like, he's probably my favorite thing on this planet if we're being real. If you don't know me in real life, let me tell you now; I love my dog. He's probably my favorite thing on this planet if we're being real. 

Keeper (that's his name if you're new here) isn't a service dog. He isn't specifically trained to help me when I'm sick or to sense things or anything like that. But he gets it. He understands when I need him near me. And he understands when he can't be excited around me. He understands when I'm crying. And he understands when I'm angry. He just gets it. 

He's probably 90lbs at this point. And he 100% thinks he is a lap dog. But, after I had gallbladder surgery last year, he didn't once try to jump on me. He sniffed my incisions when I came home, and he understood. He knew when I put a pillow over my stomach that he could lay his head there, but he never once tried to jump on me like he normally would. He just gets it. 

He licks my face when I'm crying. And he lays close to me when he knows I'm sad. He just gets it. 

I was going to say that I don't know how the Lyme life would be without a dog, but I do. Before Keeper we had Hershey. And, after Hershey died we had 3ish months without a dog before we got Keeper. I was so sad. Partially because I missed Hershey, but also because this crazy Lyme life felt impossible without a dog by my side. Keeper made things okay again. 

Maybe you don't like dogs. Maybe you're afraid of dogs. Maybe you're allergic to dogs. That's okay. Find something like a dog. Something that understands you without you having to tell them. Something that just gets it. Whatever that thing may be for you. 

I know I, for one, am forever grateful for mine. 

Forgiveness--survival key #5

#5: forgiveness. 

Yesterday I missed my blog post for the first time ever. I have always prided myself on being able to get a post in every day during May, no matter what. But last night I missed it. I fell asleep super early, slept through dinner time, slept through everything. My mom woke me up at midnight to make sure I took my medicine, and then I fell back asleep until this morning. 

And I missed it. 

I was so upset when I realized it this morning. Then I decided that I needed to forgive myself. 

Forgiveness is vital when you're sick. 

You have to be able to forgive the people who say things that hurt you. Sometimes the hurtful words are on purpose, but most of the time they just don't know what they're saying. Or the extent to which they're hurting you. 

You have to be able to forgive everyone who doesn't believe you. They don't believe it because they've never lived it. It does seem unimaginable and unbelievable until you are living it. 

You have to be able to forgive the doctors who have told you that it was all in your head. They ultimately lead you to the one who was willing to save you.

You have to be able to forgive the people who have left you. Not everyone can handle the life you've been given. Hell, sometimes you can't even handle it, so you can't expect anyone else to. 

And, ultimately and most importantly, you have to be able to forgive yourself. Forgive yourself for the mistakes that you make. Forgive yourself for the things that you say when your brain is not yours--when it belongs to the bugs. Forgive yourself for the plans you have to cancel. Forgive yourself for the times you can't get your words to come out. Forgive yourself for the times you've called yourself stupid because you can't think like you used to. Forgive yourself for the guilt that you place on yourself. Forgive yourself for not living the life you planned to live. Forgive yourself for not being yourself. 

Being sick is a journey that you're never going to forget--but you HAVE to be able to forgive. 

Time--survival key #4

#4: time. 

Today is a perfect time to talk about this one. 

Sometimes, when you have Lyme (or any illness. Or really just in life in general) you need to give yourself time. This could be time to do something that will make you happy. It could be time that you spend with someone that matters to you. Or it could just be time to rest. Whatever your heart needs. It's vital to give yourself time for that. 

Today I needed to give myself time to sleep. I woke up this morning and was so swollen that I felt like I was going to pop. I had things that I needed to get done today, but my body made it very clear that it just needed time. Time to sleep. 

So I gave it that. 

Things will get done tomorrow. Today I just needed time. And that is okay. 

An interruption.

I interrupt this regularly scheduled blog post to bring you something besides a survival key because there's something I saw that bothered me today and I need to tell you about it. (Wow on that run-on sentence.) 

Let's talk about this quote: "the healthy have many wishes, the sick only have one." 

Now, of course, I'm only one person. I can only speak for myself. But I also have quite a few friends who are sick also and I'm pretty sure they would agree with me. I'm sick and I sure as hell have more than one wish. 

If you were to ask me what I wished for, I would say having my health back is number one. I'll give you that. However, my list doesn't stop there, by any means. 

So, I thought I would share with you a list of my current wishes. The things I would wish for on a birthday candle. Or a shooting star. 

1. Delivery Chick-fil-A 
2. A bigger vehicle
3. 24/7 sweatshirt weather. 55-60 degrees preferably. 
4. A new computer 
5. Delivery Chipotle
6. A teleportation device 
7. An apple watch
8. A shed to run my business out of 
9. A puppy 
10. A self cleaning bathroom 

So, there you have it. 

It feels kind of unfair to me to assume that just because I'm sick it automatically means that nothing else besides getting my health back matters. Of course I'm working diligently to get my health back. Of course I wish for that every chance that I get. But, sometimes a girl can throw a penny in a fountain and wish for a drone to deliver tacos to her house, you know?! 

Just because I'm sick that doesn't mean that everything else around me shuts down. It doesn't mean that all I can see is sickness vs health. It doesn't mean that I'm nothing if not my sickness. 

So next time you see that quote, or a variation of it, because there are many variations that I've seen, think before you repost it. Think about the fact that it kind of sucks to see the mindset that just because I'm sick I don't have anything else worth wishing for. 

I may have Lyme, but Lyme doesn't have all of me. And this is a perfect example of that.  

Grace--survival key #3

#3: grace.

There are a lot of times that I push myself too hard. And by a lot of times l mean like a solid 80% of the time. But then there are times when I am forced to give myself grace. To realize that it's okay to take a break. To realize that the world is not going to crumble down around me because I take an extra nap. To realize that I need to take a breath if I'm going to make it through this life. 

So tonight, I've been thinking and trying to come up with something to write about. I've been wracking my brain trying to put the words together. But I can't. My brain is tired. My body is so so tired. And I just can't do it today. 

But that's okay; I'm giving myself grace. 

And tomorrow is a new day. 

A bed--survival key #2

#2: a bed (or a couch, or a reclining passenger seat in the car, or even a floor really.) 

Now, this one seems pretty self explanatory. Everyone needs a place to sleep, right? Well, yes. That is true.  However, I don't just mean a place to sleep at night. I don't mean you need a bed (or a couch or wherever you are able to sleep) just because it's a human necessity to sleep. I mean, there are times when you all of a sudden NEED to lie down or else your body will force it upon you in the form of passing out. And, at that point your body has given 100%, plus some, and it needs to recharge. 

I like to think of my bed as my charging station. 

I'm that phone that gets to 30% and then suddenly the battery goes dead and it needs a really long time even on the charger to come back on. We've all had that phone and we all know how annoying it is. 

Well imagine that happening to your body. 

You're chugging along (most days your chugging is along the lines of the little engine that could; "I think I can. I think I can.") and then all of a sudden your body is done. Usually without warning. And usually without much time to do anything about it. You need that charger and you need it now. Or else you're going to be absolutely no good for quite a while. 

It's not a question at that point--you have to lie down. 

So there's always that thought in the back of your mind of "where am I going to be able to lie down?" When you walk in a new place, you scan the room for a place you can at least sit, if not lay. And if all else fails, you find the exits so that you can get to your car as quickly as possible. 

(P.s. I can show you all of the quickest ways out of Walmart, Target, Michaels, etc. if you ever need to know.)  

Somewhere to lie down is 1,000 times over a survival necessity. 

You probably don't think much of your bed. It's just a thing. But, as I write this from the comfort and security of my own bed--knowing that I'm not going to fall down, I can close my eyes safely if I need to, and if I get dizzy I'm not going to go anywhere--I'm super thankful.