"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.

Sorry.

If you've ever asked me, or wondered, if my blog is about you, the answer to this one is yes.

To you--I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that I'm sick.
I'm sorry that it's not always easy to be my friend.
I'm sorry that sometimes I have to cancel our plans.
(And I'm sorry that sometimes I should cancel our plans and I don't and then halfway through what we're doing we both end up realizing why I should have canceled our plans.)
I'm sorry that I'm time consuming.
I'm sorry that I'm distracting.
I'm sorry that it's easier to talk to your other friends.
(And I'm sorry that you don't feel like you can talk to me anymore.)
I'm sorry that I come with a lot of baggage.
I'm sorry that baggage is heavy sometimes.
I'm sorry that sometimes I just have to sit down. (And I'm sorry that sometimes it happens in awkward places.)
I'm sorry if I've ever been an embarrassment to you because of my health.
I'm sorry that sometimes I can't remember my words and it takes me a long time to think.
I'm sorry that I can't do the things you want to do all the time.
I'm sorry I have to go home at night to take my medicine.
I'm sorry I can't keep up.
I'm sorry I don't look the way I used to.
I'm sorry I have scars and I'm sorry people stare at them when we're in public.
(And I'm sorry if you've ever heard them whisper. The people. Not my scars.)
I'm sorry I'm not who I used to be.
I'm sorry I'm not who you want me to be.

To me--I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I push you too hard sometimes.
I'm sorry I expect more of you than you have to give me right now.
I'm sorry I get mad at you for not being able to keep up.
I'm sorry you've lost so many friends because you're sick.
I'm sorry you have to sleep so much. (I know you want to live your life outside of your bed.)
I'm sorry that you can't even trust your own body anymore.
I'm sorry that being sick has left you feeling so lonely sometimes.
I'm sorry that you feel like such a burden.
I'm sorry that you feel like you're 126 instead of 26.
I'm sorry I have to fill you with so much medicine just to get you through the days.
I'm sorry you feel like you can't win.
I'm sorry I can't win for you.

I'm just really sorry.

"You can just forget about it."

There are a few different ways that I blog.

1. I think long and hard about it. I make sure the words fit together perfectly. I make sure it sounds exactly the way I want it to. This one doesn't happen very often, but when it does, it's a process.
2. I'm somewhere like the shower or driving and something comes to me. I get home and write it really quickly and post it without even reading it again.
3. I hear something that someone says. I say to myself..."self, you should write about that." So I do.

Today I'm doing #3.

I overheard a conversation today. First I was super grossed out because they were talking about chiggers burrowing in their skin. Then they said "honestly though, I'd rather have a tick than chiggers because once you take a tick off you never have to think about it again, you can just forget about it."

Oh.

Oh how I wish that were the case.

Of course I'm not faulting the person talking about it. They have no way to understand how wrong their comment was. If they understood, they never would have said it. I'm glad they don't get it. I just wish I didn't get it either.

She said when you take off a tick you can just forget about it.

But you know what else you forget about?

The words you are trying to say. The names of people you've known forever. The password to your phone. Your social security number. Which medicines you're supposed to be taking at what time.

What it feels like to be okay.

So yes, maybe she was able to take off a tick and never think about it again. Maybe she could just forget about it. But not everyone is so lucky.

So, if you have the ability to do so, remember. Remember to check yourself for ticks. Remember to be aware of what you're saying and who you're saying it to. And remember to remember how lucky you are.

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.

---

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.

That's a wrap!

Well friends, we made it. We made it through another Lyme awareness month together.

I hope that you learned something. I hope you are walking away from this Lyme awareness month with some sort of knowledge about Lyme that you didn't have before--even if that knowledge is just that you absolutely want to do everything in your power to never get it. And, if you did learn something, I hope you will take it and share it with a friend. I hope you will teach someone what I've taught you. It takes all of us.

If you have Lyme too, I hope you are walking away from this month feeling a little less alone. I know how scary it is. I know how lonely it is. I know how bad it can be. But I also know how powerful it can be to know that someone gets it. So I hope you can walk away from these posts this month knowing that I get it. You are not alone.

If you have someone in your life with Lyme, I hope you are walking away from this month having learned a little more about how they are living their Lyme life. I know their world is confusing. I know your part in it is confusing too. But they need you. We need you. I hope my words this month have given you a deeper understanding of how your person feels. Be there for them.

Thank you. Thank you so much for taking this journey with me. If this is your first Lyme awareness month that you've been here for, thank you for joining me. If you've been here for the past years, thank you for coming back. You all make a difference in my world and I wouldn't be doing this without you.

Here's to making it through another month and here's to a year of strength, health, and positive changes until Lyme awareness month next year!

1 more day.

With only one day left in this month after today, I decided to look back on everything I've written so far this month. And what I saw made me a little sad for a second. What I wrote this month was exactly what I didn't want to write.

I didn't want to be negative; I wanted to spread awareness. I didn't want to be sad every day; I wanted to spread positivity. I didn't want to tell you about how bad I felt every day; I wanted to tell you about how to be strong.

But then I realized that what I wrote this month may not have been what I wanted to write, but it was exactly what I needed to write. I promised back at the beginning of my blogging adventure a few years ago that I would be real and honest, and that's exactly what I did this month.

Right now I don't feel well, and that's what I told you about. Right now I'm not always 100% positive, and that's what I told you about. Right now I'm sad sometimes, and that's what I told you about.

So yes, this month was different. But I hope I did succeed at spreading awareness. If nothing else, I hope you took away from this month that it is worth taking every possible step you can to not end up in a similar situation.

You are worth it.

Thank you for sticking this month out with me and making my battle feel worth it, too.