If I have learned anything over the past three years it is that what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger. While I have learned numerous lessons on my journey thus far, there is always room for self-improvement. I know I still have room to grow. I started some serious self-evaluation during the six months before I was diagnosed with Lyme Disease. There was something seriously wrong with me and I didn’t know what it was. I’d come to the conclusion that perhaps the answer was “me”. I threw myself into yoga and meditation. I started reading about self-empowerment and found a psychotherapist to help me work thorough my past. I stopped teaching skiing, moved back to California without my husband and went back to school. I seriously considered leaving my marriage then, but I didn’t want to be alone and at that time I still believed there was hope for us.

The initial exploration of myself made me feel much better about where I was and what I was doing, but I was still physically ill and rapidly getting sicker than I had ever been before. The psychotherapist told me I needed to find a doctor who would believe that I was sick and that there was nothing wrong with my mental state. After 10 years of illness I did find a doctor who believed me and finally diagnosed me. This relieved a mountain of stress and self-doubt.

Around the same time I started experiencing sudden unexplainable shoulder and neck pain which ended my yoga practice. Profound mental and physical exhaustion, along my diagnosing doctor’s stern recommendation, ended the meditation; “Ashley, you need to sleep more than you need to meditate”. Letting the illness be the problem instead of “me” was a relief, even if it was only part of the answer.

If you have never been debilitatingly sick, imagine what it would be like to lose your job, your social life, the ability to take part in any form of sport or exercise, the ability to take care of yourself, and for the most part your friends. You can’t drive a car, you can barely manage a couple of showers a week, and your brain hardly works well enough to string a few sentences together. You see everyone who loves you looking at you with pity, fear and a significant lack of understanding. The sound of someone’s voice can give you an instant migraine. Light can cause you physical and mental anguish. Touch, even something as loving as a hug can be as claustrophobic as a coffin. What are you left with? If you haven’t been through it, I’m not sure it is possible for you to even begin to understand no matter how badly you want to say that you do.

There was a lot of pain, loss and hopelessness. More than any of that though was frustration. Honestly, being sick is really boring. Do you know what it is like to literally be able to do next to nothing day, after day, after day, after day… I had been an athlete. I would often teach skiing all day, go for a three-mile run and then go rock or ice climbing at night. Now I could barely manage to walk around a flat neighborhood. I couldn’t even stay awake all day. I was taking two or three long naps everyday.

As anyone who has been through this knows, diagnosis and treatment result first in symptoms getting worse not better. I was sick in a way that I never knew was possible. Suddenly everything in my life was completely gone. The person I had come to identify myself with was nowhere to be found. I had no idea who I was anymore. All I had left was me, and time to figure out who that person actually was. I also discovered quickly who the other people in my life really were, for better or for worse. Dealing with this was just as hard and just as important as dealing with the physical illness.

I made a conscious decision that I was not going to let this illness define me. I was going to take charge of my life in a way I never had before. Just so you know, there is a learning curve involved here. You don’t just take charge of yourself overnight. Most of us lost control a long time ago and don’t even know it. Reflecting back on my life was eye-opening. I found that I didn’t have any idea who I was before my illness either. For various reasons I was just going though the motions. I had fantastic experiences but something other than myself was guiding them. I lacked real confidence and conviction. I realized I had stopped enjoying my favorite things years ago. Pressure and a sense of what I was “supposed” to be doing had taken over. I was not happy before I was diagnosed and if I wanted to get better I was going to have to face that and make some really tough choices.

I didn’t let my illness define me but there is no denying that it has played a pivotal role in my path to self-discovery and happiness. Now I can honestly say that I am very confident in myself. Where I still struggle is in the ability of others to accept the person that I truly am. I have a tendency to hold back out of fear of judgement. Some people just aren’t ready for a person who has been through so much and carries what they consider to be “baggage”. That “baggage” is my greatest gift. It showed me who I really was and shaped me into the person that I am today. That is the me you really want to know as a friend or a partner. The brutally honest, incredibly caring, compassionate, strong amazing woman who I found when I had what seemed like nothing left.

I’m on the other side of this illness now. I consider myself mentally and physically healthy. I still see my doctor every month and maintain a treatment protocol, I have no intention of relapsing. I also continually have to remind myself of the life lessons I’ve learned and the steps I need to take to be true to myself and honest with the others in my life. Now, if it was only so easy to put that all into practice. Putting yourself and your feelings out on the line is never easy, but for me it is absolutely necessary.

I am committed to myself and to not making the same mistakes in my future. In the past I gave of myself to freely and often forgot to make sure that my needs were met. I didn’t even know what my needs were because I was spending all my time making sure that I was meeting the needs of others. My soul was empty and I felt alone even around those who loved me. You could blame them, I tried that, but the reality is no one can know what I need or how I feel if I don’t tell them.

I have some fantastic friends now, who I have met through Lyme, that have helped me to embrace and love the person that I am. They appreciate my directness and rational reasoning. Characteristics that I felt criticized for in the past and so I hid them. My friends prove to me that I don’t need a false front to be accepted, that there is nothing wrong with me. The people who will stay in my life are the people who don’t mind who I am. The people who mind, don’t matter.

It’s not easy, and my wall is still built pretty high. My self-improvement project is to turn that wall into a picket fence. Brick by brick it is coming down. The more I find the courage to be myself, the faster it crumbles and the more enriched I become. Being me and being happy is the greatest gift I can have, and share with those around me.

One of the lessons I am working on.

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