"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.