This is me, January 1st 2008, the day before my gallbladder surgery and a few days after meeting my husband. Happy as a clam, unaware of how much our lives were about to change.
Growing up, I remember the first time that I met another Brianna. It was so exciting because my name wasn't very common back then. Every time we went into those stores that had "name" trinkets - license plates, mugs, etc. - I looked for my name, but rarely found it. One thing I did own, though, that hung on my bedroom wall, was a cheesy framed print of my name's meaning. I couldn't find it, but it was something like this:
Brianna means STRENGTH or STRONG.
I've always been a bigger girl. My twin sister and I were born at the same weight, but it didn't take long for me to grow to twice her size (ugh!). From gradeschool to highschool, I stood in the back row for class pictures with all the boys.
With my size, came physical strength. PE was a blast when we did things like kickball, teatherball or fleeceball because I was one of the girls who could kick or hit the farthest and the hardest. In basketball, I always played post, against all the other big girls in the county. I often got carried away throwing elbows and getting warnings from the refs - oops! But seriously, don't mess with me. I don't really remember this, but my mom used to tell me about the time when I actually picked up one of the boys from my class when we were in the pool, and threw him! Xena warrior princess right there. I also remember her always telling me, "you don't know your own strength!" when I would get into a fight with my siblings and hit them just a little too hard. Sorry sibs, love you. ;)
The truth was, my mom was right (always! ;)) I really didn't know my own strength. I mean, I knew I was strong... for a girl. But to me, that just meant physical strength. I had no idea, back then, how mentally strong I was. I guess it's hard to spot that sort of thing when you're a carefree kid playing outside all summer without a stress in the world, or a highschooler who's biggest decision (aside from hot lunch vs. cold lunch or who to ask to Sadie Hawkins - oh wait, except I didn't go to dances!) was where to go to college.
I've had some definite challenges and roadblocks since then, but nothing compares to what life has been like since this disease started to rear its ugly head. A coworker and I were talking about the sanctity of marriage the other day, and how the 1st year is supposed to be the hardest. My husband and I met just 5 days before I had my gallbladder removed, and my symptoms started after that surgery. By our first year of marriage, we were 3 years into battling my health. But back then was nothing compared to what it is now. In fact, the 1st year for us was a cinch! Since then, every year since has gotten harder and harder - both physically and mentally - and we've had to endure a LOT together. Much more than I think people our age should have to in the first 5 years of marriage. PS - our anniversary is this Friday - woohoo!!) It's definitely taken its toll on us individually, and at times, as a team as well.
Our first year together....before things got tough
In reference to Lyme, people always tell me how strong I am - that they don't know "how I can do it," or that they could never tell by looking at me how sick I am. That, my friends, is my inner strength shining through! But it wasn't until this year that I realized just how resilient I really am. I used to think that this was just a facade. That putting a smile on my face outside of the house when inwardly crumbling meant I was just a big fake.
Now, I realize that just because I have moments of breakdown at home, doesn't mean I'm not enduring this illness with great fortitude. That it's BECAUSE I'm able to put on a shiny exterior when I'm crying on the inside that I can call myself strong. I know there are a lot of people who wouldn't be able to handle what I go through. And when people exclaim how tough I am, they really don't even know the half of it.
I feel like I have to keep on keeping on - that I don't have an option. I have to keep working to afford these medical bills. I have to get out and do something social every once in a while, otherwise I would die of depression. But sometimes I wish I weren't as strong as I am. Because then people could really see what this disease is doing to me.
Last month, a bunch of us got together to celebrate my brother turning the big 3-0. It was great fun, but it was also insanely miserable. On the outside, you see me posting pictures with a drink in my hand and a smile on my face. But what you don't see is that a majority of the time, I was laying in bed, because I was in too much pain and too lethargic to keep up. I couldn't play things like flip cup, because it was too excrutiating to stand and bend over that long. I went to bed much earlier than everyone else because my body was too exhausted. The first night, I kept drinking and drinking, trying so hard to be normal and have a good time. But instead of getting a fun little buzz, all it did was keep my heart racing and my mind awake until 5:30am.
A few weeks ago, we had a big company event at a local baseball game. I had been dreading it, knowing how hard it would be on me. But it was even worse than I had imagined because we either had to stand, or sit on the lawn, with no back support. I had taken extra pain meds in an attempt to take the edge off my pain, but it didn't last very long. I try my best to leave the crying for home. But the pain was so intense that night, I really struggled to choke back the tears. I was able to power through to the fourth inning - at least I think it was the 4th - I honestly was hurting so badly that I couldn't even focus on the game. And I was so crippled in pain at that point, that I could barely make it back to the car.
And it's not just the big events in life that are hard. Normal day-to-day stuff puts me in this kind of anguish. Grocery shopping, cooking, standing and talking to someone for longer than a minute, sitting in a car, eating in a restaurant - all these things are harder than hell.
There have been a lot of times that I've felt like giving up. Because what kind of life is worth living where you either can't go out and do normal things, or when you do, you're so miserable you can't enjoy them? But I guess that's where my strength comes into play. Because I'm no quitter - never have been, never will be. I think God made me as strong as I am for a reason, and He has also allowed this incurable disease to enter my body for a reason. I'm still not sure what that reason is, and I don't know if or when I will every discover it. But I'm going to keep fighting anyway. Because that's just what I do.
