Prior to late 2023, my existence was deeply connected and outdoors-centered. I moved through the world with kinetic freedom either hiking, climbing, weightlifting, snowboarding, running, fishing, etc; you name it. Movement was second nature to me. I was physically resilient, intentionally sober, fiercely hyper-independent, and profoundly attuned to my body's language. That was my anchor. For years, physical exertion was where I went to feel fully alive—my body.

Then, unexpectedly, my physiology began altering in ways that defied comprehension.

What initiated as subtle, subterranean shifts swiftly escalated into a systemic crisis. The initial disruption manifested neuro-behaviorally: sudden emotional lability, profound cognitive friction, and episodes of unexplainable rage that felt entirely alien to my nature. Close on the heels of this psychological fracturing came a dramatic, undeniable wave of physical deterioration.

Within an impossibly narrow window, my body entered a state of wild dysregulation. I cycled through thirty-pound weight fluctuations in a matter of days consistently, lost clumps of hair, developed involuntary facial twitches, suffered syncopal episodes, and watched my extremities turn cyanotic blue from vascular compromise. My physical form felt completely alien. And these symptoms were just the surface of it all.

I sought medical intervention immediately, only to be met with the dismissal that I was young, healthy, active, and merely experiencing "stress" or "hormonal shifts." Yet the cascade accelerated. A profound, systemic collapse set in. Not like ordinary exhaustion after a long hike, but a cellular shutdown where every organ system seemed to be powering down simultaneously. Severe musculoskeletal pain followed, and my hips would suddenly destabilize, leaving me unable to lift a leg. Daily life became a series of physical impossibilities back to back.

By early 2024, my life revolved around clinical settings. Over the next year or so leading into 2025, I consulted more than twenty providers across neurology, rheumatology, functional medicine, naturopathy, endocrinology, and traditional eastern disciplines. I expended more than a year and a half’s income on testing, imaging, and consultations, only to be met with complete diagnostic silence. No answers, even a full year and a half later.

As time marched on, the neurological decline deepened. I experienced severe cognitive dissociation, constantly feeling perpetually intoxicated or detached from my own mind. I would lose spatial awareness and memory while driving and have to pull over in a panic to call my mother for orientation. I suffered terrifying, inorganic bursts of suicidality that bore no resemblance to typical depression. Concurrently, my autonomic nervous system imploded: panic-like surges, temperature dysregulation, intracranial pressure, air hunger, atrial fibrillation, and a spinal fluid leak. Emergency room visits became a monthly occurrence, yet cardiac episodes were repeatedly reduced to "anxiety" until I advocated for a heart monitor, which finally documented a first-degree heart block and myocarditis.

By the time my weight dropped to 119 pounds, I could barely ascend stairs or stand long enough to shower. I aggressively eliminated every potential toxin from my environment and diet, yet my body continued to deteriorate. In place of answers, I was met with medical pathologization—referred to psychiatry, prescribed antipsychotics, and advised to consider inpatient psychiatric care. The medical gaslighting bled into my personal life: my partner called it "a performance," my employer told me to "be a big girl," and loved ones questioned my sanity. The psychological toll of having your physical reality erased by the very people and institutions meant to protect you was profoundly disorienting. No one believed me. I began questioning my own reality.

By July 2025, after being placed on medical leave (and subsequently terminated from my career) I took the investigation into my own hands. Leveraging my background in healthcare and biomedical research, I constructed a meticulous clinical matrix: cross-referencing 117 potential etiologies against my symptoms, lab anomalies, and environmental exposures. I fired dismissive practitioners and aggressively pursued specific testing. I advocated for myself like never before. I refused to be dismissed or gaslit into believing it was all psychosomatic.

I scheduled virtual appointments with numerous providers through my insurance portal in a single day. I would enter the consult and state directly that I was not going to spend time recounting my history; I simply required specific diagnostic panels to be ordered. If they refused, I promptly ended the call. I was exhausted from not being believed while knowing my physiology was changing on multiple fronts. Finally, one provider agreed to run the testing, no questions asked.

The following day, the truth was named: Lyme Disease.

Had that one specific laboratory test come back negative, I am certain I would still be searching today or I would not be here at all. The tragic reality is that suicide remains a leading cause of death among Lyme patients, driven not only by the profound neuro-psychiatric inflammation the infection inflicts on the brain, but by the catastrophic isolation of being unread and disbelieved. It had taken nearly two full years to get an answer—an agonizingly common statistic in a medical paradigm that routinely fails complex, multisystemic illnesses.

Standard Western medicine relies on two-tier testing-the ELISA and Western Blot-which demand an arbitrary number of specific antibody bands to yield a positive result. This standard leaves countless patients falsely declared "negative" while bacteria invade their central nervous system. Lyme-literate physicians recognize that even a single positive band or even clinical symptoms alone, indicates active infection. The systemic controversy surrounding vector-borne epidemiology is staggering. To this day, I still sit in clinical appointments with providers who openly state they do not believe in Lyme disease and its impacts beyond a standardized course of antibiotics. [This is such a staggering stance for any medical professional witnessing immune suppression and vector-borne destruction firsthand. (Personally, if they do not believe, I dismiss them from my care, and I believe they should freshen up on epidemiology.. and the common decency to believe and serve their patients..)]

Because non-mainstream Lyme protocols fall outside traditional insurance frameworks, insurance companies routinely refuse coverage for specialized testing and integrative treatments. The financial burden shifted entirely onto me. Treatment is financially inaccessible for the average hard-working human. I was forced into endless battles with insurance adjusters who rejected claims because standard lab work was deemed "normal," leaving me to fund life-saving care out of pocket while battling total physical collapse.(I have had tons, and I mean tonssss of help from many resources and people, which I am forever indebted to and grateful for. If it were not for them, I am not sure where/if I’d be)

The diagnosis was only the tip of the spear. My initial provider placed me on a heavy regimen of oral antibiotics and inserted a PICC line. I was in the hospital almost daily for three months, managing over thirty oral medications prescribed by six doctors simultaneously. I was so profoundly weak that basic compliance was an ordeal. The disease had taken over every millimeter of my body internally and externally. Yet as time progressed, nothing changed. My symptoms persisted and began infiltrating my body even more deeply.

By March 2026, care with a specialized Lyme-literate physician revealed the full, devastating expanse of what my body had been fighting: Long COVID, multiple stealth coinfections alongside Lyme disease—including Ehrlichia, Anaplasmosis, Bartonella, and Babesia—POTS, ME/CFS, MCAs, neuroinflammation, chronic viral reactivation across multiple strains, a first-degree heart block, MCAs, and active myocarditis. It was noted as one of the most severe neurological Lyme presentations the clinic had encountered.

I decided then to undergo an intensive treatment protocol established by this clinic, which meant having a second PICC line placed and spending over two months receiving daily long infusions. Years of being told my suffering was psychological dissolved into severe clinical reality. I was ready to do whatever it took. I dove into treatment, spending eight hours a day at infusion centers, taking over forty oral medications, receiving daily injections, and adhering to a diet so strict that at one point I was surviving almost exclusively on bone broth.

The path since has been an ordeal of sheer endurance. Recovery is a non-linear, excruciatingly slow reconstruction. My daily reality remains bound to medications, injections, a heavily restricted diet, profound physical limitations, and whatever new symptom this illness decides to sporadically simulate on any given day. It is now nearing September 2026, and I am seeking additional treatment options and see another Lyme physician soon.

I am still undergoing treatment. I am still not well. I am still experiencing endless, profound symptoms, and I carry even more diagnoses today. Had my symptoms been acknowledged and treated early on, perhaps it wouldn't have caused such systemic havoc. Perhaps my body wouldn't be fighting through this degree of damage.

Today, I no longer drive, shower standing as much, walk more than a quarter of a mile.. The physical exhaustion is constant and overwhelming—it feels as though heavy cylinder bricks are resting on my eyelids. I can sleep for sixteen hours straight, wake up, and fall back asleep thirty minutes later out of sheer systemic exhaustion. I microwave basic food because I simply do not have the physical energy required to stand and cook a meal. This is the tip of the iceberg. (I am still ever so gracious that I have the abilities that I do. I like to think of it that these symptoms and diagnosis do not define me, but that I am experiencing them; that they* are a part of my journey, in hopes that someday I can be the person I needed when I began experiencing all of this. IT truly all is a full-time, all encompassing, life pulling perfect storm of things.)

I share this story because medical invalidation is a specific kind of trauma. To lose your health is heartbreaking; to be told you are imagining it while your body deteriorates in real time is catastrophic.

Lyme disease stripped away my career, my physical autonomy, my financial security, and the identity I held so tightly. Yet, in the quiet grief of what was lost, it has revealed the bedrock of human resilience and the immense power of true community. I survive the longest, darkest days because of the people who sit in the silence with me when doctors walked out, the loved ones who drive me to appointments, and the community of fellow survivors who look at my symptoms and whisper, "Me too."

They are the anchor that keeps me tethered to this life. I am still here. I am still rebuilding.I will keep fighting.

Whatever invisible weight or unnamable illness you are carrying today, please know this: I believe you.