I don't have full control of my life.
Those are the 7 scariest words for me to say out loud. My need for control & an understanding of situations is something that is engrained deep inside of me. From a very young age I wanted an answer for absolutely everything. When my parents taught me something I always countered with, "But why?" I needed to understand. When I got old enough to realize that the world is an unjust and unfair place it made me furious. I didn't grasp why horrible things had to happen to good people, or why some things like incurable diseases even existed. My need to right all the wrongs in the world made me want to be a lawyer (before I knew the cold hard truth of how the law works). I would walk around when I was 13 proudly proclaiming to my family that I would be a lawyer one day and I would tackle all the unfairness in the world. It wasn't until I took an internship at a law firm at the age of 17 that everything changed. I read case files and court documents and depositions of horrific assaults on women and realized that their assailant was still somehow found not guilty. I remember coming home and just crying uncontrollably when I got my first whiff of the harsh truth that I couldn't make all the wrongs into a right. I couldn't control the outcome. The bad guys don't always pay. I ditched my plans of law that instant because I knew my sensitive soul could not handle such sadness on a daily basis. But my need to understand why things happen and have control never went away.
I always liked to think that I had some bit of control with this disease. I kept my sanity by telling myself that although I am bedridden, if I REALLY wanted to go out and do something I could push myself. I told myself I had pushed through so much before so the option was always there. Having that lifeline, and talking myself into really believing that was true was my biggest downfall. Because it was all a great big facade. The truth of the matter is that when I moved home, frail and broken, the decisions were no longer mine. And coming to that realization meant that my lifeline which I depended on for so long was never actually there. For someone who is very independent like myself, learning to admit that my body controls everything has never gotten easier. I always assumed with time I would have peace, but I sit here 3 years later and I can tell you that it's not any easier to process the internal struggle and heartbreak that comes with having a soul that is so alive while being trapped in a body with limits. Strict limits. If my body wants to completely rebel on me then there isn't anything I can do to stop it. My body doesn't care if its my birthday or Christmas or any other special occasion. It doesn't care that I have somewhere important to be. It doesn't care how badly I want something. There is no moral heart here, just a body that is fighting its absolute hardest to survive each and every day against the trials of Lyme disease. And it's not in my control.
Some days I really get knocked down, and I have to respect that I am out of steam. I go and go and fight every day with the utmost strength that I can muster up. But at some point the tank runs dry and I have to take some time to be kind to my body and let it recharge. Believe me, like anyone I have moments when I want to give up so desperately. But I look at my parents who love me so much and I know I can't. I keep going not for my own self, but for the people who love me who are counting on me to recover. So because of that I have learned to face my fears and my resentment over the fact that I am not in control. I never was. In fact, I don't know if any of us ever really are. We like to think we have utter control of our lives and what happens next, but often times life happens first. I had big plans prior to getting diagnosed, and none of them included laying in a bed 24 hours a day. But life has a funny way of shaking you awake when you least expect it. So I continue on this journey, trying not to dwell on the fact that I won't always have an instant answer to everything. Maybe sometimes I won't ever get an answer at all. But every day that God blesses me with another day on this earth you can find me seizing the day and fighting my hardest, and I hope all of you reading this will do the same.
xoxo,
Christina
Those are the 7 scariest words for me to say out loud. My need for control & an understanding of situations is something that is engrained deep inside of me. From a very young age I wanted an answer for absolutely everything. When my parents taught me something I always countered with, "But why?" I needed to understand. When I got old enough to realize that the world is an unjust and unfair place it made me furious. I didn't grasp why horrible things had to happen to good people, or why some things like incurable diseases even existed. My need to right all the wrongs in the world made me want to be a lawyer (before I knew the cold hard truth of how the law works). I would walk around when I was 13 proudly proclaiming to my family that I would be a lawyer one day and I would tackle all the unfairness in the world. It wasn't until I took an internship at a law firm at the age of 17 that everything changed. I read case files and court documents and depositions of horrific assaults on women and realized that their assailant was still somehow found not guilty. I remember coming home and just crying uncontrollably when I got my first whiff of the harsh truth that I couldn't make all the wrongs into a right. I couldn't control the outcome. The bad guys don't always pay. I ditched my plans of law that instant because I knew my sensitive soul could not handle such sadness on a daily basis. But my need to understand why things happen and have control never went away.
I always liked to think that I had some bit of control with this disease. I kept my sanity by telling myself that although I am bedridden, if I REALLY wanted to go out and do something I could push myself. I told myself I had pushed through so much before so the option was always there. Having that lifeline, and talking myself into really believing that was true was my biggest downfall. Because it was all a great big facade. The truth of the matter is that when I moved home, frail and broken, the decisions were no longer mine. And coming to that realization meant that my lifeline which I depended on for so long was never actually there. For someone who is very independent like myself, learning to admit that my body controls everything has never gotten easier. I always assumed with time I would have peace, but I sit here 3 years later and I can tell you that it's not any easier to process the internal struggle and heartbreak that comes with having a soul that is so alive while being trapped in a body with limits. Strict limits. If my body wants to completely rebel on me then there isn't anything I can do to stop it. My body doesn't care if its my birthday or Christmas or any other special occasion. It doesn't care that I have somewhere important to be. It doesn't care how badly I want something. There is no moral heart here, just a body that is fighting its absolute hardest to survive each and every day against the trials of Lyme disease. And it's not in my control.
Some days I really get knocked down, and I have to respect that I am out of steam. I go and go and fight every day with the utmost strength that I can muster up. But at some point the tank runs dry and I have to take some time to be kind to my body and let it recharge. Believe me, like anyone I have moments when I want to give up so desperately. But I look at my parents who love me so much and I know I can't. I keep going not for my own self, but for the people who love me who are counting on me to recover. So because of that I have learned to face my fears and my resentment over the fact that I am not in control. I never was. In fact, I don't know if any of us ever really are. We like to think we have utter control of our lives and what happens next, but often times life happens first. I had big plans prior to getting diagnosed, and none of them included laying in a bed 24 hours a day. But life has a funny way of shaking you awake when you least expect it. So I continue on this journey, trying not to dwell on the fact that I won't always have an instant answer to everything. Maybe sometimes I won't ever get an answer at all. But every day that God blesses me with another day on this earth you can find me seizing the day and fighting my hardest, and I hope all of you reading this will do the same.
xoxo,
Christina
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