ontheedgeofeverything

I tend to avoid speaking and writing honestly about how I am doing because the genuine answer is usually not wonderful, both mentally and physically, as a result of having Lyme disease. But, as of late, the mental burden has become a bit overwhelming, so I figured I would engage with some catharsis through a post.

Having Lyme disease is not something I would wish upon anyone. I have a few chronic illnesses at this point, but Lyme is arguably the worst in the context of symptoms. I could not tell you the last time I felt good, and that might sound absurd, but it’s the honest truth.

Some days are better than others, but I am in pain constantly. Different joints flare up and ache at any given time, inflammation runs rampant throughout my body, and lately, my knees have been positively brutal. I’m tired all the time, no matter how much I rest and sleep, and there is quite literally no relief from any of it.

The leading cause of death among individuals suffering from Lyme disease is suicide. This is a horrible statistic, but one that makes sense to me because I am familiar with how debilitating the condition is. In my case, the punch packs even harder in the sense that I was diagnosed when I was 26, and throughout my teenage years, I suffered from eating disorders, meaning the prime years of my life have been plagued with discomfort, pain, and mental illness. Additionally, I am well aware of the fact that as I age and get older, my symptoms will only exacerbate and intensify.

I’m often asked what the hell is wrong with me, playing rugby with Lyme disease. The reason I still play, despite the pain and injuries, is that it is one of the few things left in my life that I perceive as normal. And I need it.

Please don’t perceive this as a ‘woe is me’ post. Rather, it’s some honest thoughts and feelings I needed to get out.

Photo by Towfiqu barbhuiya on Unsplash