Hello there!
It's me. Kelly. I pretty much dropped off the face of the earth for over two years - closer to three. I was sick. I struggled. I went through the refiners fire. I'm on the other end now. I'm not completely better, but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and I am starting to feel strong.
I stopped writing this blog because it was too much. My days were spent sleeping and worrying. I worried about how I would get better/ if I would get better. I worried what my kids would eat. I worried if my kids would have a "normal"childhood. And I worried about who I was anymore. If I got out of bed it was to fix food for my kids. It defiantly wasn't to blog.
As I pulled this blog up, this was one of the last posts I drafted. I didn't publish it, because at that point, I didn't know how to talk about my disease to others. Being a sick person was new ground for me. It was a new role and I didn't know how to play the part. Here is the post. I want to remember what I went through.
Do you ever feel like the worst mom?
Sometimes I do.
Today was one of those days.
Let's start with first things first.
I have Lyme Disease.
People I see every day don't know.
I look the same as I did before.
I carry on as I did before - almost.
Except I feel like things are falling apart.
It feels very lonely.
I spent the day laying in bed with only enough energy to make lunch and take the boys to one of their games.
Near 5:00 I got enough energy to emerge from my bedroom after being in there for hours.
Sounds seemed to tear me apart somewhere deep inside. They literally hurt me and echoed in my head. One of the boys started complaining. He hadn't eaten for hours, something that doesn't work well for him and he had been living without a mom around and he was sad.
So this boy, who wants to be involved in every sport possible, was disappointed about me encouraging him to just do one sport at a time. He took the tactic of naming one of his friends that did 4 sports at one time. I explained that his parents had told me that they had over scheduled him and that it had been a mistake. He then said that that was 4 sports, not two and why couldn't he do two. His friend can do two.
And that's when I said it.
I looked him in the eye and said, rather loudly, "Because his mom doesn't have Lyme's Disease!"
And so at that moment of weakness I said it.
And the look he gave me hurt. I can imagine that he will remember that moment. For a long time. Maybe forever. Will it be one of those moments that he looks back on, a defining moment when his world changed? Maybe. Maybe it's nothing. But to me it was something. And my heart began aching.
And at that moment we had crossed over a threshold. Up until that point I was trying to keep my kids lives as normal as possible. For months as I struggled with this sickness, I had a goal to be out of bed by the time the boys got home from school. I didn't want them to remember their mom as being sick - what if this went on for years? I had to be strong. I had to get up. Today I had already taken him to a lacrosse game in the city next to us and then, since that took all my energy reserve, I spent the next several hours in bed, wanting to get up. Wanting to do laundry, but I just couldn't and so I slept on and off while I heard my kids doing whatever they were doing in the other room, without me. Without any adult.
And I cried. And I fixed dinner for them and I cleaned the dishes that were scattered across our counter.
And I ached even worse when my oldest tried hard to do his best to make everything better. I ached because a child shouldn't have to do that. And yet he does.
With the kitchen cleaned, more or less, I started watching Story Trek on BYU TV and I watched it and I cried again. But the tears were different. I was filled with perspective.
And for some reason I felt that everything would be alright.
And it will be.
And it is.
It's me. Kelly. I pretty much dropped off the face of the earth for over two years - closer to three. I was sick. I struggled. I went through the refiners fire. I'm on the other end now. I'm not completely better, but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and I am starting to feel strong.
I stopped writing this blog because it was too much. My days were spent sleeping and worrying. I worried about how I would get better/ if I would get better. I worried what my kids would eat. I worried if my kids would have a "normal"childhood. And I worried about who I was anymore. If I got out of bed it was to fix food for my kids. It defiantly wasn't to blog.
As I pulled this blog up, this was one of the last posts I drafted. I didn't publish it, because at that point, I didn't know how to talk about my disease to others. Being a sick person was new ground for me. It was a new role and I didn't know how to play the part. Here is the post. I want to remember what I went through.
Do you ever feel like the worst mom?
Sometimes I do.
Today was one of those days.
Let's start with first things first.
I have Lyme Disease.
People I see every day don't know.
I look the same as I did before.
I carry on as I did before - almost.
Except I feel like things are falling apart.
It feels very lonely.
I spent the day laying in bed with only enough energy to make lunch and take the boys to one of their games.
Near 5:00 I got enough energy to emerge from my bedroom after being in there for hours.
Sounds seemed to tear me apart somewhere deep inside. They literally hurt me and echoed in my head. One of the boys started complaining. He hadn't eaten for hours, something that doesn't work well for him and he had been living without a mom around and he was sad.
So this boy, who wants to be involved in every sport possible, was disappointed about me encouraging him to just do one sport at a time. He took the tactic of naming one of his friends that did 4 sports at one time. I explained that his parents had told me that they had over scheduled him and that it had been a mistake. He then said that that was 4 sports, not two and why couldn't he do two. His friend can do two.
And that's when I said it.
I looked him in the eye and said, rather loudly, "Because his mom doesn't have Lyme's Disease!"
And so at that moment of weakness I said it.
And the look he gave me hurt. I can imagine that he will remember that moment. For a long time. Maybe forever. Will it be one of those moments that he looks back on, a defining moment when his world changed? Maybe. Maybe it's nothing. But to me it was something. And my heart began aching.
And at that moment we had crossed over a threshold. Up until that point I was trying to keep my kids lives as normal as possible. For months as I struggled with this sickness, I had a goal to be out of bed by the time the boys got home from school. I didn't want them to remember their mom as being sick - what if this went on for years? I had to be strong. I had to get up. Today I had already taken him to a lacrosse game in the city next to us and then, since that took all my energy reserve, I spent the next several hours in bed, wanting to get up. Wanting to do laundry, but I just couldn't and so I slept on and off while I heard my kids doing whatever they were doing in the other room, without me. Without any adult.
And I cried. And I fixed dinner for them and I cleaned the dishes that were scattered across our counter.
And I ached even worse when my oldest tried hard to do his best to make everything better. I ached because a child shouldn't have to do that. And yet he does.
With the kitchen cleaned, more or less, I started watching Story Trek on BYU TV and I watched it and I cried again. But the tears were different. I was filled with perspective.
And for some reason I felt that everything would be alright.
And it will be.
And it is.
This is what my family looked like just before I got sick.
This is us recently.
The space between the two has lots of tears and growth.
And, something I really didn't think I'd say, I think I'm thankful for the tears, because of the growth.
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