Who am I?

To start, I am only still here by the grace of God. I’ve been blessed with many wonderful people who have stood by me — and some truly amazing doctors and medical practitioners — throughout this journey.

It’s well known that many Lymies don’t have a strong support base or know where to turn for reliable help. That’s why I felt it was important to share my story, the sources that guided me, and how I’ve personally applied what I’ve learned along the way. Hopefully, this can serve as a springboard to help you find the support you need. Let’s face it — you came here for a reason.

I’m not a doctor, nutritionist, or practitioner of any kind, but I’ve spent more time than I’d like in their offices and have learned from their knowledge, experience, and sometimes their potions — all in pursuit of wellness. I’m still on that journey forward.

Growing up, my parents were pretty health conscious. Our Halloween candy usually ended up in the trash. Health has always been a priority in my life — though it’s become more challenging to maintain lately.

As a child, I was an intense mix of tomboy and girly girl — playing sports and arm wrestling with polished nails. Seriously, how many ladies do you know who can do one-handed push-ups with either hand? Well, now you know a little bit about me. I’ve always been a bit odd, and I like it that way!

I’ve never believed in limitations. I was ambitious, and nearly anything I set my mind to, I achieved. That’s part of what makes this illness so difficult — seeing the things I want in life just inches out of reach, and feeling that deep-down fear I may never get there. It’s humbling to realize I might never return to full strength — or worse.

But the resilient fighter in me refuses to give up. My goal? To destroy the little creeps and every friend they brought along. They are not welcome in my body, and I have no intention of living in harmony with them.

The Objective: Lyme Genocide.

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My condition got bad — low enough for the hospital staff to ask my parents whether they wanted to sign a DNR.
They couldn’t even ask me because I was drifting in and out of consciousness. But I heard them — and I was furious! You don’t ask my parents those kinds of questions.

It was such a thrill when I finally got to leave the hospital — walker and all.

How Am I nOw?

Just taking it one day at a time. I’ve made huge progress and can finally see the exit of the tunnel — not just a glimmer of light anymore.

But with progress comes greater extremes. The Herxing is more intense, yet the recovery is faster and the improvements are stronger. The lower I fall, the higher I seem to spring back.

On an ideal day, I can get in and out of the shower by myself, comb my hair, prepare simple food, organize my disabled dad’s supplements, work on this site, research new ways to heal faster, and connect with or encourage other Lymies. It took me years to finish this site, which shows you how few ideal days I've had over the years. Thankfully, life improved.

Some of my symptoms

My symptoms have ranged from physical pain to neurological challenges — including swelling, internal and external inflammation, and widespread nerve issues. I’ve experienced sciatic discomfort, muscle spasms, loss of motor control, dizziness, and constant brain fog with memory decline.

There have also been sensory and systemic effects: random vision changes, fluctuating body temperature and heart rate, palpitations, abnormal migraines, and chronic pain in my knees, hips, neck, shoulders, and jaw.

Other complications have included hormonal imbalance, menstrual cycle irregularities, stomach discomfort, frequent nausea, loss of stamina, and new-onset asthma. At one point, I developed a slightly enlarged heart, lung fluid, and pericarditis — symptoms that often worsen with changes in weather.

On top of that came hair loss, a sensitive scalp, food allergies, poor circulation (to the point my extremities change color), loss of appetite or sudden extreme hunger, constant thirst, disrupted sleep patterns, hives, and even pain when touched.

In short — Lyme doesn’t play fair.