Suicide Isn't a Joke

   In my last post I had written about the downfalling spiral I felt when my results came back, unchanged. Not only did they not change,  but other issues surfaced.  Along with Lyme, Bartonella, Babesia, mold, and thryoid diagnosises, I now have Hashimotos, POTS, EBV, and the MTHFR gene. Gracious!  **insert eye roll**

   Prior to these feelings,  I had been told how prevalent suicide is with Lyme disease. A young girl ended her struggle not long before I started treatments at the same clinic she went to. I was ignorant to the fact that anyone with this disease would choose suicide, but then came my understanding at how long this journey in recovery would take. I'm learning of the MANY setbacks that occur, the symptoms that leave and then decide it's time to come torture you more. This process isn't for the faint hearted.  You have to be tough! There is no other option.

   I think the hardest part in the battle of chronic disease, is not the pain, but the feeling of being alone, even when you're surrounded by people who love you. Because, frankly, at the end of the day it's just you fighting inside to stay alive. Don't get me wrong,  support from those who love you is never dismissed. It's mostly that they can't understand you, because they can't physically what's going on inside of you. This has ultimately made me lash out so many times that I forgot where the person I used to be, is.

   As time goes by, I now realize how easy it is to fall into a depression that could lead to something more extreme. To keep my mind as clear as I could (considering Lyme brain haha), I turned to walking ... A LOT!! I used to be a runner, but Lyme killed my vibe. Learning I couldn't run, like I used to, pulled me deeper into the darkness. Prior to being diagnosed, I ran everyday. I ran half Marathons, 10ks, 5ks...I ran. Running had been my therapy and well, Lyme took that away too. There came days where I couldn't walk because Bartenella felt the need to flare up and fuck with me some more.

   Before I got back up on my feet, I had shut everyone out...even loved ones. No one understood the struggle of waking up everyday, just to feel worse in order to feel better.

   Detox treatments began being horrible with immense herx reactions. These are considered good because it implies bacteria is being killed off. However, the pain it brings is unlike no other. This is also a reason why it's hard to get people to understand. People can't fathom your sickness because on the outside you look fine.  I try not to talk about how I feel because it's a waste of breath. Instead I cry on my walks....the only place I can allow myself to feel what this disease has truly done to me; how I lost the person I used to be, and love. Everything about me had become a sick facade and somedays I even think of ways to disappear.