For two-and-a-half years I felt weak. I could barely walk, getting out of bed every morning felt like digging out of quicksand and showering was a monumental task. My hair was falling out, my tongue turned black and I had an inexplicable painful rash on my toes that was slowly spreading to my hands. Heat sapped my energy and in order to cook dinner I had to sit on a stool at the stove. My every minute was timed in order to take all my meds at the right time. Walking my dog a few hundred feet felt like climbing Mt. Everest while lugging behind me a dead body. Everything I did was a challenge and I never knew what new horrors the next day would bring. I felt weak, hopeless, helpless and alone.

I spent hours feeling guilty that I wasn’t stronger. Worrying constantly if I should be trying harder to return to work. Were other people struggling as much as me? Are they able to work and treat Lyme disease? Am I weaker than everyone else? I need to do better. I need to do more! These thoughts plagued me. My next thought would be how much I needed to take a shower, but I couldn’t because I needed my husband close by. I was too unstable to shower alone. We both worried I would fall and crack my skull open. Looking back, I reflect that someone who can’t shower alone has no business fretting over returning to work.

Let me tell you something, this is not weakness. This was some serious warrior shit. This was worth celebrating every day. I recognize now how awesome I was for digging out of that quicksand every morning and facing another day full of uncertainty and fear. You should feel the same way about yourself right now!

This is not weakness

For three years now I have been in therapy. I started therapy because I was diagnosed with chronic PTSD (I now refer to it as complex PTSD). I felt weak and shamed myself for not having a stronger mind. Though I considered myself a very spiritual, grounded person, I still felt helpless and hopeless. For crying out loud, I’m a Reiki practitioner. Why can I not dig myself out of this pit of despair? I knew my mind. I was good at positive self-talk. Dammit, I can do this!! But, I couldn’t do it alone. I needed help. And, I sought it out.

I have fought long and hard to reclaim my life after Lyme disease. I had an amazing and revealing journey through EMDR therapy for PTSD. When I hit a wall with that journey I sought out soul integration therapy. That has changed my life. I have never stopped seeking wellness, healing old wounds and learning from my trials. A whole and fulfilling life is possible again, I know it. That is not weakness. Admitting you need help is one of the most badass warrior actions you can take. It took me hindsight to see how strong I was, how strong I am. If you’re struggling with mental illness right now, I know you can do the same. You’re a badass warrior too!

This is not weakness

My Yoast SEO (Search Engine Optimization) tells me that I should repeat my title at least three times in every post for optimal performance. So, every time I write I try to work it into my narrative multiple times. But in this case, I’m not doing it for Yoast. I’m doing it for you. Like a mantra, you should remind yourself of this daily. Every time you berate yourself or judge yourself because you feel like you’re weak, say it out loud. This is not weakness.

The next time a relative questions you or your boss threatens you, puff out your chest and see the warrior in you. They have no idea or understanding of what you’re going through. But you do. You see yourself drag your ass out of bed every morning. You see yourself downing pill after pill, knowing all the while that it’ll likely make you feel worse before it makes you better. But you push through the fear and do it anyway because you want to be well again. That is awesome, powerful stuff! Not everyone has the courage or self-determination to do that. Give yourself a big hug. I see you and I’m giving you a virtual hug right now.

This is not weakness

Do you know what else is not weakness? How hard did you have to fight to simply get the correct diagnosis? You shouldn’t have had to do that. Yet you did. Did a doctor tell you you needed a therapist because you were just depressed? How many different misdiagnoses did you live through before you got here? That’s right, you didn’t listen. You knew something else was wrong. You stood up for yourself and acted as your own health advocate. That’s some radical self-care friends!

How often do you wake up and think you can’t do this anymore? You could stop taking these drugs, feel better in a day or two and go back to work. But, you know that will only help temporarily and it’ll all come flooding back. So, you swallow those pills and soldier on. I love that! It’s so admirable.

This is not weakness

Cancer patients have support systems upon support systems. You tell a family member, friend or community member you have cancer and the whole world flocks to your side.  That isn’t true for patients of Lyme disease. We feel our way in the dark, searching until we stumble upon that one person with compassion for our situation. Every day, a new bizarre symptom appears and the uncertainty can be paralyzing. Despite the lack of easily available information, you soldier on. You search down every wormhole and in each dark corner for the support that you need. What rock stars you are all. Sing it with me like a rock anthem…This is not weakness, this is not weakness.

(All due respect to anyone with cancer, including my stepdad. I love you and I respect your battle. Please, do not mistake my frustration over a lack of Lyme disease support as disregard of your fears and uncertainties. You too are fighting a very real battle. Some day, I sincerely hope Lyme patients will get the same communal up-rise that you currently receive as a group.)

One last time, say it with me, this is not weakness

I spend a lot of time on Facebook Lyme disease support groups and I see all of your pain. Your courage in the face of despair and fear is awe-inspiring. Your inquiries on Facebook about whatever gross/scary/painful/inexplicable thing is happening to you. That is vulnerability. That is courage! When you pour your heart out because you feel like you can’t keep fighting. When you reach out with a quivering hand, hoping someone will grasp it and help you up…I see you. I hear you. Those are not the voices of a weak heart. Yours are the voices of determination for your health, courage in the face of fear and hope when everything seems hopeless. That is not weakness. That is serious warrior shit. You inspire me. I thank you for your courage and I applaud you for your tenacity. Keep it up Lymies.