I think I have been using a page from North Korea's play book. I have poured all of my resources into showing the world my strength while everything and everyone inside my borders suffers and knows we are not what everyone else sees. We are much weaker than we show.
As I try to figure out how to balance what I want to do, what I can do and what I must do, I am reminded that I still have such a striking ability to be a faker. Especially with myself.
I fake it because I can't believe a teeny tiny tick could wreak this much havoc.
I fake it because when people look at me, they don’t believe I can possibly be so sick.
It is one of the weirdest things about chronic Lyme disease - it destroys everything inside but leaves you mostly looking the same on the outside. I look mostly normal. Except when I don’t and I’m obviously not posting my picture to Instagram that day. There have been days when I see my reflection in my bathroom mirror or in the worried face of my mother-in-law and realize my outsides match my insides that day.
Exhibit A
I am ashamed to say I used to look at pictures of other folks with Lyme and see their posed smiles and think there's no way they could actually be feeling as sick as they claimed and still take a picture like that. Karma!
I was in a lot of pain and trying to keep myself held together to attend Cara's little graduation. I went down hill for the rest of the day and ended up in bed. But none of that would be obvious from this picture.
I fake it because I’m hoping the “fake it till you make it” philosophy will actually pan out for once.
I fake it because I’ve felt I don’t have a choice.
We have bills to pay and kids who need to eat and get dropped off at school and have a normal life.
I fake it because I don’t want to be a whiner or a burden or have people’s pity.
I fake it because I don’t like depending on others.
I fake it because I want to pretend I haven’t lost things I really liked about myself.
I fake it because I don’t want to accept that many dreams for our family and life are shriveling up.
I fake it because my job requires that I put aside my own stuff to hold space for the stuff of others.
I fake it because I am really scared of having this mess up our kids or make them grow up too early.
I fake it because I actually do have good days and they trick me into thinking that maybe I can just make bad days good days if I try hard enough.
I fake it because it soothes my ego to pretend I am still strong.
I fake it because when I stop moving and doing, I start shaking and tremor-ing and twitching and it freaks me out.
I fake it because I am afraid if I slow down I might never be able to get up and go again. Ever. I am hugely afraid of this.
