Before Lyme Disease, I thought I knew what love was.
I thought that partying with my best friends on the weekends was love.
I considered pooling your money on a Friday night for pizza, Mt. Dew, and a bag of Hershey's kisses to be love.
I assumed that a friend taking me to lunch was love.
I accepted endless teasing and poking fun at each other as love.
I regarded a goodnight kiss to be love.
I believed that the absence of criticism and the acceptance of my mistakes was love.
​I figured love was when someone knew you from the inside out, or at least you think they do.

Then I got sick... Long term sick. The kind of sick that tortures you simply by removing your quality of life and peeling away the experiences that you used to think are what made life worth living. And surprisingly, I found that as your quality of life walks away from you, so do your friends, family, and neighbors as well.

I've heard many people say that you don't know what love is until you've been married for an extended amount of time. I actually believe that you don't know what love is until you suffer, or someone you love suffers and you choose to stay.

It's not often thought about enough. What would you do if someone in your life fell ill? Or became paralyzed? Or suffered a trauma? I mean, who wants to think about the worst that could happen? (Nor do I recommend falling into my friendly addiction of always "assuming that worst.") The answer to that question from the average person is commonly "I just don't know." And I suppose you can't truly KNOW until it happens... or can you?

I was diagnosed with a debilitating illness five years ago after I had watched my mother suffer from the same illness two years prior.  Naturally, my knee jerk expectation from the members of my church and community was that the people in my church congregation (that I had heard talk of service and selflessness) would be darkening my door to offer listening ears, hands to hold, kind remarks, and spiritual refreshment. I had spent years hearing about how that's what we do for those who are suffering, so naturally, I thought all that talk was real. And it wasn't.

Now, don't get me wrong; this isn't to say that there are not wonderful Christians or people who do these things. This also isn't to say that I doubt the goodness of God, His love, or the truths that are taught in my church that I know in my heart are true. My effort to point this out is, simply put, to encourage all (whether you belong to my church or not) to try a little harder to be a little better.

We live in  a world that is virally shedding the idea that if someone is sick, the BEST call to action is to stay away from them as far as you can.

Not only is this completely against Christ's teachings, but it naturally shatters the human heart and allows cold blood to run through the veins of many people who are DESPERATE for someone to instill love, hope, or peace in them.

Lyme disease taught me something different than this world philosophy about people and love.  And despite the cries for distance and shallow forms of "love," I would highly encourage you to apply the healing balm of FAITH combined with ACTION towards "the needy people" that you know.

I now know that LOVE is COMPASSION.
I know that LOVE is a listening ear, anxiously engaged to help in any way they can.
I know now that LOVE is patience, long-suffering, and choosing to STAY in someone's life even if they suffer long-term.
I know that LOVE has little do with parties and social cliques, and more to do with simple moments and acts of service.
I know that LOVE is peeling the one you love off the floor after they've passed out.
And LOVE is washing their hair because they can't wash it themselves.
LOVE is teaching one another things that help each other to be better.
LOVE is TIME. MAKING TIME to BE WITH and EMOTIONALLY STRENGTHEN each other.
LOVE is progressing spiritually and growing TOGETHER.

Love is much more than the messages that are screaming at us on social media and the news. The kind of love that we all CRAVE, is the kind of love that very few understand until deep tormenting suffering takes place. In all honesty, gifting someone with an act of TRUE love is HARD. It takes TIME out of your busy life and schedule, and it usually takes thought and preparation beforehand. It's not easy to truly offer the gift of love to someone who is different or suffering. But at the end of the day, true love wins and is the real answer to deep, lasting healing.

I recently received a comment on one of my social media posts in response to sharing some of my life on the farm.

"Farm life sounds magical!"

I chuckled to myself at that comment because my mind was automatically drawn to the not-so-magical aspects of farming. I'd hardly refer to mucking stalls, chasing goats that got out, waking up early to feed, and working with stubborn horses every day "magical." But it also left me in a reflective state of all of the joy that has come to me from living on a farm.

I have experienced greetings from the sunrise that feel crisp clean. I've absorbed golden summer evenings when the whole farm seems to glow. I've awakened to winter mornings where the whole world is blanketed in white and icy glitter fills the air and space.

I've spent rainy afternoons on my knees in manure aiding in a goat giving birth to a precious new-born, praying that they both might live despite the difficulty. I've cried along the riverbank in response to feeling God's deep love for me after a long week. I've witnessed miracles as I've watched the garden grow, and I've felt a connection with living creatures as I've trained and interacted with animals of all kinds.

I suppose with all those things in mind, farm life can at times be quite magical. It never ceases to amaze me the miracles that I witness every day on the farm.

One such miracle occurred a few months ago when I was feeling discouraged and frankly exhausted with the daily battle of fighting illness and attempting to live as normally as possible.

I was standing inside one of our large greenhouses one evening, taking note of all the little plants that were beginning to grow when I noticed a small butterfly fluttering its wings rapidly along the edge of the plastic covering the greenhouse. (For those of you who are unfamiliar with greenhouses; a greenhouse is usually a large half-cylindrical shape with one door on either end of the structure. Greenhouses are used to keep heat in so one can lengthen their growing season and begin planting even when it's still cold.) I noticed this beautiful butterfly fluttering its wings and mentioned it to my friend that works for us. He replied by telling me it had been there all day and probably wasn't going to get out.

Now, as someone who's heartstrings are easily pulled, for some reason my care for that butterfly increased and I took to the notion that I was going to get it out so it could live. I'd caught lots of butterflies in my backyard when I was a little girl so how hard could it be? My first thought was to cup my hands over it, catch it, and let it go as soon as I reached the door. Butterflies are less that submissive though, and although my attempt was sincere, it failed to succeed.

So I stood there, and I eyed it while silently coaxing it to calm down. After a while, it landed gently on one of the wood beams laid across the middle of the greenhouse. These beams are a little higher than waist high for me, and it wasn't too difficult to reach at the time. I somehow received the thought to just hold out my finger to it, and to my surprise as I did so the little butterfly proceeded to climb onto my finger. I didn't even know that butterflies would do that with a person! While my heart and mind were screaming with excitement I calmly ventured away from the edge of our little plant house and stepped slowly towards the door. All the while, the butterfly sat content on my finger. The moment I reached the door I stretched forth my hand and the little butterfly flew away with a sense of freedom blowing through its wings and gratitude soaring behind it.

I grew up on Hallmark movies. We all the type... Those movies that always begin with a single, independent, seemingly flawless woman with some high-end job in the city, or some cozy gift shop or bakery in a small town. And after a short intro of this stunningly beautiful girl, we're then introduced to Mr. charming, handsome, CEO, or buff small-town handyman who only wears plaid and manages three small businesses of his own. Along the way Mr. Charming meets Ms. Independent and in less than a day this unlikely couple can manage to save a town... or their small business... or Christmas; all while simultaneously falling in love, finding some reason why they'll never work out, separating for a few minutes, and then later (in the same day I might add) manage to resolve everything. Furthermore, we all know that every Hallmark movie ends with the world's most romantic kiss. And at the end of every Hallmark movie, we all assume the success of that perfect couple. 

I suppose that somewhere in my adolescent heart I believed that such perfection could exist. As I grew older I subconsciously held my expectations high and my hopes even higher that someday my Hallmark life story would become a reality. Let's just say I put the word "hopeless" in the term "hopeless romantic." I aimed high and hard for that reality. My perfect reality. My perfect lie.

I'm sure you can imagine my shock when life didn't turn out the way I thought it would. Now, don't get me wrong; for I do not solely blame Hallmark movies for cultivating my perfect lie. I have found society, social media, social norms, and the status quo nurturing this perfect lie more often than not.

I've watched young people my age post fundamentally every Olympic moment they experience in their short lives to their various social media accounts; leaving others relentlessly comparing their personal worsts to everyone else's public bests.

I've observed pictures of endless glamorous and fun first dates. I've scrolled through perfectly edited engagement pictures in perfectly white fields or stunningly flawless mountain ranges. I've clicked on flashy engagement rings and completely enchanting wedding videos. I've liked and commented on many college degrees, job promotions, immaculate maternity photo-shoots, and perfectly clean pressed children. I've seen it all and aimed for it all, only to find that it is not all real.

The problem with this subconscious facade is that it manifested in my very conscious life. I spent my days making never-ending lists of qualities in a "perfect man", only to find that there isn't a man that will check everything off on my list, and the most important things in a man weren't even on that list! I went to college because that's what you're supposed to do when you're young and fresh out of high school, only to find that college wasn't for me and that didn't in any way make me a failure. I've been obsessed with lists, schedules, planning, and my idea of perfect only to find that sometimes the lists and the schedules are significantly less important than God's timing, and that life is what happens AFTER you make plans! My reality was that I flirted with perfection because I thought it looked pretty, and the ugly in life scared me.

I learned very quickly that the easiest way to overcome your fear of the ugly is to face the ugly head on and trust that God will lead you through the painfully imperfect moments in life.

I found myself sitting in a dentist chair the other day conversing with the dental assistant who was cleaning my teeth. She asked me a few things about my life in which I shared with her about my blog, the gift shop I'm opening, etc. I mentioned a few small things about my life that I currently feel good about to which she replied:

"Wow! It's like your life came straight out of a Hallmark movie! You inspire me!"

To be honest, I'm still minorly laughing at that statement because oftentimes there are a lot of things that go unseen in other people's lives. It's natural to miss the sweat and tears that go into starting a business. Many people do not comprehend the long nights and overly stressful days that accompany earning a college degree. There's a lot of hard work and effort that is often overlooked among young people who can only see the outward "perfect relationship." Most people don't see that I have a debilitating chronic illness that adds extra weight and struggle to my daily life. Most people don't witness that agony of betrayal or abuse. The agonizing pain of many things that often feel like more than we can handle is often not talked about or recognized. This then leaves a lot of us wondering what we're doing wrong and why the long hard journey is something that must be borne alone. And then for those who are at high peaks in their lives it leaves them blind to the suffering around them and unknowing how to help, or unaware that it's even necessary for them to help at all!

My life is far from perfect and that's okay! I've lived my fleeting moments of perfection. I've been the young girl at college with the world at her fingertips. I've fallen in love at Christmas and have pranced around with a flashy diamond ring. I've had perfect mistletoe kisses and perfect family photos. I've picked out the perfect wedding dress and posted perfect engagement photos to my social media.

But there are shadows in every picture and wounds that go unseen. I also went home from college due to chronic Lyme disease and have spent years suffering and praying for relief and healing. I've passed through "a boyfriend for Christmas" only to be met with a breakup in June. That perfect mistletoe kiss only lasted for a second, and that flashy engagement ring meant nothing when glaring straight into the face of dishonesty and betrayal. Those perfect engagement pictures never lead to a wedding, and those family photos were originally meant to be wedding photos and are missing a few members of my family.

And all of these imperfect things were things that were and are out of my control simply because they are a result of mortality.

So, life is far from perfect... where's the hope in knowing this?

The hope is in knowing that the value of your life is not calculated by the sum of your perfect moments or the moments that everyone sees on social media.

Life is not about the flawless moments that take your breathe away. Sometimes it's about the moments where your heart feels like it can no longer beat because your grief is too great to bear.  Occasionally it's about sudden rainbows in the sky or dancing in the rain. More often then not it's about the moments in tears on the bathroom floor because we've all be there at one point or another.  Sometimes it's about laughing so hard your stomach hurts. Often it's about embracing through the hard and wiping tears through the sorrow. It's about long nights and headaches.  Intermittently it's about the first good night's sleep you've had in forever. Frequently it's about worrying and praying for a good outcome. Sometimes it's about problem-solving, and hand-holding, and enduring, and pouring your heart out to God in prayer. You see... life is the sum of all human experience because without the pain, sorrow, and imperfection, we would have virtually no recollection or appreciation for the joy, love, and beauty that comes in life.

The most beautiful moments in life, are the moments that are borne out of great suffering. They come in the form of sudden beautiful vistas, sudden miracles, and moments of peace, hope, and unexpected smiles. Without opening up about the ugly imperfect moments of life, there are no hands to hold when you are called to pass through your life's ugly. So instead of hiding in secret, may we all be safe spaces for people to share their imperfection. Because becoming perfected for the eternities is all about striving to overcome the imperfect in mortality, and thanking God for the beautiful journey that life is.

"Anyone who imagines that bliss is normal is going to waste a lot of time running around shouting that he’s been robbed. Most putts don’t drop. Most beef is tough. Most children grow up to be just people. Most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration. Most jobs are more often dull than otherwise. Life is like an old-time rail journey–delays, sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders, and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling bursts of speed. The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride."  (President Gordon B. Hinckley, Ensign, Nov. 1984:86 )

We have Christ to heal us from the imperfect of mortality. And we have each other to aid in the healing process if we so choose to lift each other in love and support. May we all share our imperfect. Because at the end of the day... all of the outward perfection is just a lie anyway.

I once used to be a young girl that found every detail in life to be absolutely magical. I used to record every moment that seemed completely enchanting on little strips of paper, and I'd fold them up and put them in a small jar that I kept on my dresser. And as I now look back on those moments that I never would have recalled otherwise, I'm reminded that every one of those moments was perfectly ordinary, but my mind recorded them as memories that were special.

​I've jumped in huge piles of golden leaves whose crunch sounded like a symphony to my adolescent ears.  I've smelled fresh baked cookies only to run into the kitchen carefree and joy-filled. I've balanced on sidewalk curbs and rolled down hills with the only side effect being pure laughter. I've watched clouds form shapes in the sky almost like magic, and I've walked barefoot in the grass without a worry in the world.

I've taken long walks with people who make me wish that the path we were on wouldn't end. I've watched sunsets and prayed in small groves of trees. I've felt my heart skip beats because I thought I was in love. I've waded in streams knowing without a doubt that my feet would leave footprints in every place I've tread, and known later that footsteps and hand-prints can remain in hearts as well.

And now... I grasp these beautiful moments tight because throughout the change and pain in life I find it significantly more difficult to experience these things. Or perhaps the difficulty is less from the lack of opportunities, and more from the lack of my ability to see artistry and charm because life can often be coated in tragedy, heartbreak, and pain.

So how does one compile all of the magic and the pain? How does one process the Olympic moments with the pitfalls and darkness? Perhaps the beauty of life is that we are not required to live it all at once, and we are not required to live it all by ourselves.

So, for now, I'm putting one foot in front of the other and leaning for dear life against the One who has experienced this all before. For now, I'm praying for eyes to see the magnificence that is so graciously placed before me, and I'm praying for fortitude in every ounce of pain and suffering that I may experience.

And most of all... I'm praying for all of the cuts and scars to be healed because carrying this all on my own has proved to be soul-destroying.

And then I seek for extra faith and practice deep trust. Because my God and my Savior have never let me down, left my side, or broke my heart, so why would I doubt for a second His infinite ability to heal my body, my heart, and my soul? For as I practice and reach for daily faith I'm reminded that God is writing an unforgettable and breathtaking story for me, and He's simultaneously preparing me for glory and joy that I can't comprehend in this life.

So may we all remember the enchanting moments that are perfectly ordinary. And may we all learn from life's agonies that prepare us for life's greatest joys. For no being can live in a state of endless bliss without missing some greater exquisiteness, and it's very possible to be in the midst of suffering while simultaneously witnessing miracles. There is room for all of it in life. And we must remember that there is a purpose for it all in life.  As we do that, we'll walk paths that will bring us to our greatest peace and joy.  And that's worth living for.

Let's talk about dating for just a minute. Dating, relationships, friendships, social outings, you name it; I guarantee that anyone can relate to feeling like their illness is CONSTANTLY third-wheeling it with them!

It's normal to feel different and want to spend most of your energy on hiding your differing lifestyle from your friends, dates, or even family at times. I've found that it's best to just be yourself, and if your illness happens to rear it's ugly head into a conversation or situation and people don't response well, then those people are not worth having in your life anyway. Illness and disability do NOT define you. It may make my life look a little unique.  It may add a little sparkle to the conversation, but in no way does it determine your worth or your power in life.

Every single person on this planet has baggage and problems. Everyone has things that we are working on. Everyone has that something that third wheels it with them. I used to have to work on getting out of bed and walking across the room. Now I work on not letting PTSD run my life. Whatever it is, the important thing is that I keep aiming for healing, improvement, and joy.  Chronic illness may be something that is often accompanied by stigma and fear in the eyes of many, but the truth is that chronic illness has a way of bringing out the strength and beauty in those who carry that cross. I may have Lyme disease, but Lyme does not take away the strength and spunk that comes with it. As is with all chronic illness warriors. 

Comment below if you relate and tell me what character qualities you have that your illness will never take away from! ​

I always find it minorly amusing when people express to me how happy they are for me that "all my dreams are coming true."  I must have developed the art of appearing to be successful on social media the past few years because the truth is that I often find myself on my bedroom floor in tears because my life seems so drastically different than I imagined it to be in my younger years.

Dreams are funny things.  Funny in that when I was younger I often thought I could make my dreams come true by wishing on a star, dropping a coin into a quaint little fountain, or blowing out birthday candles.  The unlikelihood of dreams coming from those simple acts of belief are slim to none, and when I was diagnosed with Lyme disease I learned that hard lesson fairly quick.

Through the Lyme battle, I've been blessed to learn a few things that have shaped me into a completely different person.  This odd transformation hit me not too long ago when I realized that I often don't recognize myself when I look in the mirror anymore.  This fighter that was stripped of all of her dreams was once a young girl with her head in the clouds.  And it turns out that this dreadful disease has compelled me to see life in a whole new way; a way that I never before would have thought possible.  I've rolled this one over in my head multiple times in an attempt to discover whether or not that fact is a blessing or a curse.

It has been five years since I have felt like I have done anything worthwhile, and five years since I received my diagnosis and returned home from my first semester of college.  I remember leaving before the semester ended, and feeling like a complete failure because my body could not physically handle being in college for one minute longer.  

Since then I have spent lots of time doing things that always seemed useless and often ended in failure.  For the first two years, I watched seasons of my favorite shows dozens of times over while I often felt like I was drowning in supplements and protocols, and yet saw no results as the pain relentlessly persisted.  I went to three different colleges (and dropped all of them.)  I picked up every hobby I could find and quit many of them after I realized that I couldn't keep my brain fog away enough to even finish what I started.  I couldn't hold a job due to Lyme crippling my abilities.  I planned a wedding; only to call it off and find myself right back where I started (single and still sick).  And in my head, all of these failures made up the sum of me as I continuously was forced to fight Lyme every step of the way.

But I did something recently that made me realize that a person is not the sum of their failures.  It is often when you stand back and look at your life as a whole that you realize that most of those seemingly big failures were stepping stones to successes, and Olympic moments weren't meant to occur every day.​

I recently had the opportunity to participate in a vendor event where I was able to sell laser engraved products that I've been working hard to design and produce.  Learning something new is always scary and can often seem like a large task when you begin to glare it in the face.  I had many a moment where I was ready to give up.  Moments when I butchered an entire basket of products while I was learning to use the laser (to which I now call the basket of misfit items!), moments when the wind and rain would destroy my entire display after I had just barely set it all up, and moments when I would spend the morning in discomfort and pain from Lyme, only to get up and buckle down for the busy evening and rush of busy customers. But despite it all, I persisted and pushed myself harder than my Lyme disease has ever allowed me to before. 

Many may not realize this, but this vendor event was a huge victory in the life of Lymie like myself.  I spent eight days on my feet and overworking my body in ways I haven't done in years.  I spent eight days around huge crowds while my Lyme riddled nerves burned with anxiety.  I spend eight days surrounded by food vendors that were a constant reminder to me that I don't eat what "normal" people eat because I'm sick.  And I spent eight days smiling and rarely ever mentioning my illness because every time I mention Lyme to the average person, it is rarely graciously received.  

My overall response to the crazy week I just lived is pure victory.  Victory that I set a goal, saw it through to the end, and it was a success.  Victory that people liked and bought a product that I made and that I just had a whole new start to a business that I'm hoping will grow and be a success.  And victory in that I was able to interact with hundreds of random people and my nervous system was strong enough to hold its ground and not put me in a panic.

Although the experience was far from perfect, and there were days that I fought through pain and Lyme symptoms, I feel like I just broke through a massive wall in my Lyme journey.  And that wall was the big fat lie that Lyme disease makes me a failure.  Lyme disease in no way made this event easy as I found myself fighting symptoms all along the way (and now paying for the overworking of my body), but it made it worth it because that wall in now broken and never again will stand tall.

The fact of the matter is that I learned some things through this experience, and they're things I'll hold with me for life.

The first lesson being that people with chronic illness and disability can still do wonderful and amazing things.  The fact that they fight through debilitating life challenges makes them all the more strong for being able to do all of the great things that they accomplish.  A great victory for someone who is sick may seem minuscule to the average person, but when a child is learning how to walk we never complain and tell them how they should be talking by now.  So when my biggest victory was managing the pain just enough that I could manage to take a shower by myself again, that was something to celebrate.  And now my biggest victory is starting a small business that may go absolutely nowhere, but that isn't going to stop me from trying.

The second lesson learned came to me the last day of the event when I thought to myself how I wish I could go back to that sixteen-year-old girl who had dreams of being a vocal performance major, opening her own vocal studio, getting married and raising a family.  I wish I could go back to that girl and tell her that all of those dreams were going to be utterly smashed to pieces by a disease that can manage to strip you of everything.  But I also wish that I could go back and tell that girl that through all of the rubble and scattered pieces of her broken dreams, she would find beauty, peace, and great joy in her renewed view of life and the endless possibilities that it holds.  Life is not easy.  And it isn't supposed to be.  For if life were consistently easy, we would miss out on some of our greatest victories.

My third and perhaps most important lesson I have learned from this experience is that it is the little things in life that bring us the greatest joy.  Little things like laughing so hard your stomach hurts, and crying tears of joy for the first time in forever.  Things like stopping to smell the flowers or walking barefoot in the grass.  I often missed the little things in life that give depth and meaning, and I often gave too much of my attention to things in life that are artificial and temporary.  For I have found that the only thing that can strip a person of their artificiality is great trial and affliction that burns the artificiality out of us and compels us to look a little deeper and take note of the little things that the average person misses.  And although I sometimes question that deep sensitivity I've developed in the past five years, I am also deeply thankful for it, for I have come to see the world in a completely different manner than what I saw it before.

The reality of life is that the cure for broken dreams is to dream again and to dream deeper.  And as you walk the painful path that's lined with seemingly shattered dreams, you will find new dreams among the rubble and the ashes, and I guarantee you that you may grasp some of your dreams past as well.  Whatever you do, just don't step off the path no matter how painful it may be.  Because walking the path of your broken dreams can lead to the most beautiful of destinations.

I frequently travel through my life with a sense of a double identity as our society loudly screams frivolous ideas of success and popularity that seem to be difficult to ignore.  And as I attempt to "fit in" with my peers, I always find myself feeling slightly fake and two-faced.

As a woman living in a world brimming with photo-shop, snap-chat filters, and unrealistic glimpses into other people's lives via social media, it's easy to blindly chase after the false belief that in order for me to be a thriving influence in society I must be living up to society's standard:  I must be going to school full time, holding a job, eating the best tasting food, traveling to the most exotic places, fulfilling all my callings in the church, and I must be stunningly beautiful every day.  I must never have problems... and if I do I must keep my mouth shut in order to avoid causing anyone discomfort.  If I experience emotional pain, I must quickly throw it under the rug and pretend it doesn't exist.  I must smile... but not too wide and not too frequently.  I must be happy... but not too emotional or enthusiastic.  I must be tired... but simultaneously drill myself to accomplish all the to-do lists, schedules, and appointments.  And while I'm juggling all that... I must also be having the most fun and posting it all to Instagram and Facebook so that everyone else can feel bad about how they're not having enough fun.  Thank you social media for this unrealistic and impossible view of reality.

I've tried to be that girl.  That girl that has perfection in the bag.  That girl that appears to have vitality and richness overflowing in her life.  That girl that doesn't talk about her inward struggles in fear that she'll make other people uncomfortable or that she'll give the wrong image or idea.  But that girl is fake.  That girl isn't real.  That girl is living a double life and because I've always tried to be that girl, it makes it easy for my peers, associates, and family to assume that I'm not really sick.

"You don't look sick."
"She must be faking it."
"You're a beautiful girl that probably just feels like you're not getting enough attention."
"You must thrive off of attention."

Some of the comments that all chronic illness warriors hear on a regular basis cut us deep because we're simply trying to survive in our own skin to the best of our ability.  What's worse is the words that go unsaid.  What's worse is the gaping mouths and blank stares we receive that translates to the disbelief that any person actually suffers on that kind of level.  What's worse is the attempt of someone apologizing and stating how hard that must be because they don't know what else to say.  The silence is just as painful as harsh words simply because it traps us in the corner of disbelief where we constantly feel the need to prove that we're sick.  

So I'll be the first to admit it...  You're right... I'm faking it.

I'm faking the smile on my face when I'm trying so desperately to hold back tears.  I'm faking that I'm feeling okay when I'm usually riddled with muscle pain,  nerve pain, or severe anxiety.  I'm faking that I'm living life pain-free when there are so many times that I feel like I'm suffocating under my own skin.  I'm faking my sanity when I feel like there are bugs crawling under my skin.  I'm faking that I'm flying when at times I feel so utterly close to drowning beneath the pressure of it all.  I'm faking that my heart is whole and complete, when really it feels exhausted, broken, and bleeding.

When these things that I'm faking are expressed out loud, I simply feel inadequate.  I feel like I lack the ability to ever be "good enough."  I feel like it's my fault and if I just tried a little harder.... maybe my pain would subside.  I feel ashamed of my own existence, and I often wonder why at times it feels like the world keeps turning while my time stops and I'm trapped in one place until my inward storm chooses to cease for a while.  And as these feelings envelop me, the vicious cycle of feeling forced to "fake it" starts all over again.

We live in a society that believes that pain can be relieved with substances.  We cope with alcohol, drugs, pills, porn, food, or anything we can do to numb our afflictions.  But at some point, we have to realize that the SUBSTANCES DO NOT HEAL US.  The substances numb us to the harsh reality.  Instead of relying on substances, we can rely on God and on each other so we don't have to feel the desperate need to "fake it till' you make it."

LOVE is the key to healing.  "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son."  (John 3:16)  God loves us, so He gave us His son so that we don't have to suffer alone.  Christ knows of our pains and our sorrows, and He loves us all the same.  If we strive to be more like Him, we can act as a rock and relief for others who are suffering.  We don't have to have all of the answers for the chronically ill.  We don't have to take their physical pain away.  But what we can do is seek to understand the depths that others and in, and then... we simply love them through it.

Here's the joyful message of it all... Because I have a Savior who loves and sustains me... I can find pure joy through pain and illness, and I'm not faking it.  Because I know that people are more important than substances, I can understand that after I walk through my own furnace of affliction I develop the ability to love others through their afflictions.  I also understand that as I suffer I gain a greater capacity to later help others which in turn helps me.  What I stop trying so hard to fake it, I can be true to myself in enduring pain and happiness.

So the next time that you meet somebody, or the next time that you're talking to somebody... "treat them as if they are in serious trouble.  And you will be right more than half of the time."  (Henry B. Eyring)  It would all do us well to bring our shallow existences to a halt.  The next time that somebody says they are doing well and you sense that they are not, do not believe the words they speak.  Believe the silent plea for help in their eyes.  Believe their subtle look of discouragement and pure exhaustion.  Believe that little voice in your head telling you that maybe this person needs help.  Believe the inherent ability you have to love somebody through their pain. 

We all have that power.  May we seek with pure diligence to know how to help ignite that power in ourselves and in others.    

Let's face it... the years that we all walk as a teenager are always the most difficult, and my road to discovering my individual worth began here.  Bottom line: I hated the mirror and I never felt like I was ever enough.  I spent countless amounts of time in Sunday school lessons and seminars about beauty and worth and yet I couldn't quite seem to visualize in my head how it all applied to me.  I was told time after time by my peers how I wasn't smart enough or how I lacked in one thing or another.  Due to physical disability, I wasn't as quick to think on my feet as some of my friends were, which lead me to believe that I was just plain stupid.  Stupidity was also implied multiple times through that sarcastic comment that rolled off the lips of my peers on multiple occasions: "It's a good thing you're pretty because you don't have much else going for you."  Those words cut deep as I let them penetrate my heart and allowed them to affect how I viewed myself and my worth.  For these reasons, I rotted in the belief that if I could look "perfect" then maybe I might have something to offer in the world.

At this time in my life, I spent a lot of time watching beauty "how-to's" on Youtube, and wondering why my hair never seemed as shiny, or my teeth as straight, or my lips as full, or my skin as clear as all the girls in the videos.  How did they master this idea of "perfection" and yet no matter how hard I tried, I would never be enough.  No amount of makeup or hairspray could help me reach the level of physical "perfection" that I could see in others.  And yet I didn't pause a minute to strive for anything less than excellence in my appearance.

As you can imagine, living in a way that makes everyone else happy and comfortable with you can be very exhausting, and I often wondered what it would be like if I ever resolved to show up to school as someone who was comfortable in my own skin (without all of the extra makeup and hair care).   The truth was that I couldn't ever get myself to take that step due to fear of what others would think.  I was often told by women that "beauty is pain" anyway, so I figured that it was normal to never find true comfort in my appearance.  The truth was that I never was comfortable in my own skin.  I didn't like my own face.  And I didn't want to think about what I actually looked like because my looks were seemingly "all I had to offer."

Let's fast forward to post-graduation and my first taste of young adulthood.  How does one's self-worth play a part as a young woman attending college who had just been diagnosed with a debilitating disease?  I was diagnosed with Lyme disease soon after I began college, and naturally, the obsession I had with looking perfect came to an end.  I lost 15 pounds my first semester of college (keep in mind that I already only weighed 125 lbs and I'm 5'9" in height), and could often feel and see my spine, wrist and ankle bones protruding from under my skin.  When I came home from college I found unnatural amounts of hair coming out in my brush and I remember standing in front of the mirror in tears as I'd pull the hair out of my brush to throw it away.  I remember my face, neck, arms, and back very frequently being broken out in lesions and rashes that would itch and hurt to the point where I had a constant relentless urge to pick at my skin whenever I felt nervous or panicky.

Naturally, the makeup, hairspray, and the need for "perfect" appearance quickly vanished. Suddenly my drive to stay alive became more important than my desire to look like society's ideal woman.  Naturally, I felt horrible about myself day in and day out.  I was useless.  I had to stay in a bed and participate in laborious treatments that frequently made me feel worse.  What could someone with Lyme disease ever have to offer in a world that pushes work, education, money, traveling, exercise, and looking amazing while doing it?

Eventually, as I learned to find comfort in my own face and my own skin, I learned the answer to that question.  I had to come to a place of acceptance in my life.  Acceptance of who I am no matter where I happen to be or what I happen to look like in my life.  A place where I learned that the worth of a woman has nothing to do with how she looks.  The worth of a woman doesn't equate to how smart or stupid society tells her that she is.  The worth of a woman isn't about what men or other women think of her.  The worth of a woman isn't drawn based off of her abilities or her disabilities.  The worth of a woman isn't determined by how perfect she can get herself and her life to look.

I didn't realize when I was younger that my worth comes from my heart, not from my body.  To say that one's worth comes from their physical appearance doesn't make sense simply because the heat of life being turned up doesn't equate to the worth of a soul being turned down.  If my body determines my worth, then when my body breaks down from physical illness I don't have any worth!  I know now that this perception of 'worth" just isn't true.  I suppose it's true that "beauty is pain" not because of eyebrow plucking and long hours of makeup application, but because my illness does not make me "less beautiful."  If anything it makes me more beautiful because of the extra strength and resilience that is accompanied with all the painful aspects of Lyme.  I choose to not let Lyme define me, and even though it's incredilbly difficult... it doesn't determine who I am or my worth.  Every single one of us is blessed with innate worth and ability when we are born, and that worth doesn't merely vanish when life gets hard, or when we feel inadequate in various aspects of our life.

In God's eyes, every single one of us has an undeniable amount of worth.  When I can see that my worth comes from God, then I can also see that my worth is enduring and eternal.   The glorious message from that is that every single one of us has the power to take our worth in our own hands and create something beautiful with it.  I never was stupid.  I never was ugly.  I never was useless.  I simply perceived myself to be that way which held me back and made it so I was living way beneath my privileges.

I've always been beautiful, smart, and capable.  I've always had something to offer to the world.  It is so with every woman if they so choose to discover and realize their internal worth.  God loves His children.  God loves His daughters.  That doesn't change because of things that others say or expectations of society.  My hope is that all women can come to an understanding of who they are and the innate beauty that is instilled in there own hearts and souls wherever they may be in their lives.  ​         

*This post was inspired by #thehellolovelyproject.  You can learn more about the incredible woman who started this project by visiting her "About Me" page here.

Do you want to get involved with this project?  Here's what you can do!

1. Write down one thing you love about yourself.
2. Take a picture of yourself with the one thing you love about yourself.
3. Upload your photo using the hashtag #thehellolovelyproject
4. Like and share with anybody you feel like could use the encouragement, and then like and share The Hello Lovely Project Facebook Page!
5. I highly encourage you to share your narrative on how you came to find your self worth on your social media and on The Hello Lovely Project Website!

​I remember participating as teenager in various Sunday school classes, youth groups, and general life courses in high school where the teacher inquired the following question: "Where will you be in five years?" or "Where will you be in ten years?" 

I remember having a thorough, well thought out image in my head of what my life would look like in five or ten years.  I planned to marry straight out of high school at age eighteen.  I thought to myself:  "I'm a socially apt, talented, smart, beautiful girl!  I'll snatch a man no problem!"  I always planned that I would never date anyone who treated me less than a queen, and I'd fall in love in a "whirlwind romance", just like in the romance movies.  I'd earnestly mapped out my life. I'd attend college as a music major, while my husband attended for some other high end profession. I'd live in a modest home with perfectly trimmed lawn and flawless flower beds.

By the time I reached age thirty I'd be a successful business woman with her own vocal studio, and six children.  My family would be the type that wears matching pajamas, and holds hands all in a row at the store.  We'd wake up at 7 every morning, never a moment later!  My house and children would always be clean my husband would always come home on time.  He'd greet me with a kiss, and I'd always be dressed flawlessly with my hair and makeup precisely in place.  My children would never complain or make bad choices and they'd all grow up to be successful, well rounded adults.

As a teenager, my vision for life didn't include imperfection and flaws.  It wasn't comprised of unexpected pitfalls and adversity.  It didn't encompass imperfection.  It didn't encompass Lyme Disease.  Lyme disease wasn't part of the plan. 

When I was 18, I wanted a husband, but instead I got a diagnosis.