There are times where being chronically ill just gets old. Now is one of those times. When I started to feel better last year I was so happy and thrilled. I started making friends again, and keeping up with them by texting constantly. I attended rock concerts and even labeled myself as a booking agent and hooked bands up with each other, attending weekly shows sometimes. I kept busy throughout the summer and joined an outdoor program where I hiked many key New Hampshire spots like Cannon Mountain, The Flume, Artist Bluff, Franconia Falls, Waterville Valley, and Lafayette Mountain. We visited beaches like Wellington State Park and Hampton Beach where I had endless energy swimming and playing football and volleyball. That is where I spent almost all my time talking and hanging with friends, and then met my boyfriend Tyler. School started and with a busy homework load and crazy schedule I decided to push it a few steps further. Along with joining student council and picking up horseback riding I added a daily running regimen to the plate and on weekends attended my beau's football games. When winter rolled around I joined the Alpine Ski Team and pushed myself as hard as I could as I felt the ground beneath me collapsing. That's when I went down hill again, pushing myself overboard and stressing myself over the edge of a cliff. Now, 10 months later, I wish I could live it all again. I spent this entire past summer in a wheelchair, attending therapy and being left out by friends, unable to enjoy even a nice dip in the pool because of my Picc line. It is hard to go back ten steps, but even harder to go forward 10 steps and back ten leaps! It's almost a feeling like I've been taunted by health, and now I'm forced to suffer in a bath of 'patience'. I sit in bed and hope, pray, and wish for the life I miss to return, even if it's not the same as it was before, I still would like to introduce myself to someone without Lyme hanging over my head. To be normal is to be free, but currently I'm a caged bird with clipped wings.
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