Health, Lifestyle, My Life

The Parasite Living Inside Me: My Lyme Disease Story

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Me waiting in the doctor’s office during the COVID-19 pandemic

There is a parasite living inside of me.

It’s been there since I was 10 years old. I have very few memories before this parasite was a part of my life. And yet, for much of the last 10 years, I didn’t even realize it was still there, burrowing into the tissues of my body, making itself a home in a place it didn’t belong.

I have Post-Lyme Disease Syndrome (PLDS), a disease that, until the last few years, was thought to not be real. Because of this, the last decade of my life has been consumed by trying to figure out & treat whatever was causing so much insufferable pain & fatigue.

I had high moments, of course. There would be times when a treatment would work, & I would have a few great months. But then a flare would rear its ugly head without me realizing what was happening. It was frustrating, knowing that I was seemingly doing everything right to be healthy. The problem was, I was treating the wrong illnesses. Without the correct name for what I had, I was exhausted trying to treat 12 different misdiagnoses that had been given to explain my symptoms.

Lyme Disease is caused by the bacterium Borrelia burgdorferi. It is transmitted to humans through the bite of an infected tick. It is one of the most common vector-borne diseases, & yet, it is under-researched & under-studied, meaning many people go years without realizing they have it. This is troubling, because the more time people have Lyme disease, the harder it is to fight.

This was the case for me. We now believe Lyme disease could have been living inside of me for years without me knowing. This is because Lyme Disease likes to mimic other illnesses, making it difficult to catch. In addition to this, the testing for Lyme Disease is flawed in many ways. Lyme Disease is discovered through antibody testing, which makes it all too common for a patient to have Lyme Disease & still test negative for it because their immune system had not created enough antibodies on its own to fight the infection.

Photo by Erik Karits on Unsplash

Back when I had Lyme Disease, we knew much less than we do now. Knowing what I know now, I should have received much more antibiotic therapy than I did, but at the time, it was believed the customary two weeks of antibiotics was sufficient. When my pain, fatigue, headaches, & insomnia returned just a short six months later, the doctors insisted i was fine & just wanted attention. It took another year to finally convince them I was truly in pain. It was then that I received my first misdiagnosis of fibromyalgia.

A few years passed, during which I paid little attention to my worsening condition. I became less active, succumbing to my pain, but that gave me an opportunity to thrive in my more artistic passions.

It wasn’t until high school that I noticed the brain fog, although, at the time, I didn’t have a name for it. I simply noticed that my mind was not what it used to be. As an avid reader & writer, it was odd to me that my reading comprehension was not up to par with my classmates. My memory continued to work properly, which meant, in the American education system of memorizing & regurgitating facts, my grades were still exemplary. But anytime I was asked to think abstractly, my famously creative brain failed to think through even simple problems or equations.

In my junior year of high school, my symptoms hit an all-time low. I had developed a number of food allergies, as is common with Lyme patients, & my gut health was suffering tremendously. I was diagnosed with IBS & leaky gut, but none of the treatments ever seemed to work (in fact, they only seemed to make my symptoms worse), so after a while, I refused any prescription pills. In addition to this, my anxiety seemed to heighten, & anything that deviated from my regular schedule sent me into a tight-chested panic attack. I thought it was simply stress-induced, brought on by having to deal with difficult illnesses. Compared to my physical symptoms, I felt it was less important & paid little attention to it.

Me on the first day of my senior year of high school.

In college, my symptoms finally found some relief. I cleaned up my diet even more than I had before, & I found a holistic doctor who treated my symptoms in the first way that ever worked. Exercise helped tremendously. I got off every prescription medication I had been taking, & for the first time in years, I felt relaxed & free. My senior year in college was bliss. I felt healthy, carefree & strong. I signed up & trained to run across the country. I met the love of my life. I ate whatever I wanted, went out with friends, & enjoyed every moment of beginning my adult life.

The thing about Lyme disease is you never know when a flare is coming. The unhealthy eating, long training runs, & lack of sleep finally caught up with me, & the flare came at the worst possible time – while running to help those in need. While my teammates were supportive, without the diagnosis or words to describe what was happening to them, I struggled with feelings of loneliness & misunderstanding.

My 4K for Cancer team on the final day of our run. Over 49 days, we relayed across the country, from San Francisco to Baltimore.

When I returned, I felt beaten & hopeless. I cleaned up my diet again, started taking my supplements, but it just didn’t seem to work. My brain was worse than before – I was stuttering over my words & mispeaking. Once able to capture a room full of people with 20-minute long speeches, all done without notes of any kind, I was now struggling to find words on the tip of my tongue in frequent conversations.

Answers finally came just a few months ago. After years of searching, months of talking to doctors & going to appointments yet again, I received the diagnosis I had been waiting for. I had treatment that finally helped. The right diet, the right supplements, & the recommendation to make self-care & sleep a priority rather than a luxury actually made a difference.

As of now, it doesn’t seem I will ever be symptom-free. At this point, PSLD, at least in my case, can be characterized as an auto-immune disease. When Lyme flares, I can try my best to fight the bug, but Lyme is a spirochete, meaning it has a spiral shape that makes it easy to hide in tissues of the body. When Lyme is hiding, my immune system is depleted, so the best I can actually do is not continue to break down my body by trying to kill the Lyme, but to boost my immune system as much possible. This, in turn, will reduce inflammation, improve my digestion, &, in the end, help me to feel healthy, as if there is nothing wrong. And if Lyme ever does flare, I know what to do to fight it back.

It’s been a long journey getting here, one that I normally don’t like to think about or share. But since learning my diagnosis, I have met so many other people who have struggled with it, & I have realized I am not alone. Which means there must be so many other people out there feeling the same way that I did, & sometimes still do. And I want to let you know that you are not alone, & that this illness does not define you. It is part of your story, but it doesn’t even have to be the worst part.

Like the plot twists & challenges in any story, it’s not what happens in the plot line but how we respond to it that makes us who we are. And we are warriors. Lyme has made me stronger, more resilient, & more patient than I ever would have been. But most importantly, I am more empathetic, more kind, & more compassionate. And that is why I am sharing my story. I want my blog to be a safe space, where people, no matter what it is that has shaped their story, can find a safe & supportive community.

Lyme changed my life, but it doesn’t have to define it. What I do with my life will define it, & all I want to do with my life is to bring a little more love & kindness into this world. I believe that love, truly, is what heals most. I could not be where I am in my journey now without the love I have in my life, from my family, my friends, & from Joseph. Love truly does heal all wounds. The love we extend to others has greater value than we will ever know.

The one thing I felt Lyme took from me was my self-worth. For so many years, I felt shame about my illness. I was embarrassed to share my story. I thought no one would want to hear it, & I didn’t want it to be what I was known for. But now, as I have said, I have learned love is what is most important. So, as much as this blog post is for you, it’s for me, too.

This is a letter to myself. It’s finally remembering my story in every painstaking detail, & it’s telling myself that it’s okay. It’s okay to be me. Its okay what happened to me. I still have value, & I am still worthy of love.

My blog is a safe place, for me & for you. If you need a reminder of your self-worth, of your value, pay this blog a visit.

No matter what your story, you are worthy of love. And I want to share with you what I am just now beginning to learn – the best love you will ever have is the love that you give to yourself.

There is a parasite living inside of me, but I am in charge of my body. And today I am choosing to show my body respect & gratitude for all it has done, & love for the strong & resilient body it is today.

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Lifestyle, My Life

Finding self-confidence: A snip of my life story

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Me during my senior year of high school, my hair freshly cut into a pixie cut.

Note: This piece was written while I was in college & my hair was cut short in a pixie cut. This is the first time I have shared this story.

My fingers absentmindedly stroke through my short pixie cut as I work on a project. I often forget that my hair is short. When I close my eyes and imagine myself, I still have the long, curly locks that I had years ago. But my hair is now thin, straight, and cut close to my scalp.

I tap my fingers restlessly against my keyboard, unable to think of what to type next in my essay. My teeth snag on my inner cheek, a nervous tick I picked up years ago when I was told it was not proper to chew on my hair or nails. In high school, I used to tear at that skin during exams until I tasted blood. I have scars now on both sides of my mouth, just behind my lips.

I try to twirl a lock of my hair, once again forgetting that it is shorter now than it used to be. My hand falls by my side, my fingers itching for something to play with.

I look up and gaze at my reflection in the nearby window. Wide, hazel eyes stare out beneath the dark hair. I should have worn make-up today. With my hair so short and my body so small, I could easily pass for a boy. I should have at least put product in my hair so it didn’t fall flat onto my head.

But, I am alone. Who would I be dressing up for? My reflection doesn’t care what I look like.

Why do I care so much about what my hair looks like?

My mom giving me a perm during my fifth grade year. I had always wanted curly hair.

My first thought is that my mother is a cosmetologist. I grew up where the phrase, “Go do something with your hair,” was as common as, “What is the weather supposed to be like tomorrow?” My life stages were marked by what my hair looked like, starting with the moment I was born with a head full of hair so dark brown it looked black; to my first haircut at two months old; to when my hair turned into a frizzy, curly mess in middle school; to when it started to fall out and became a reflection of my life falling apart. Stories from my childhood are frequented with plots about my hair: The first time my hair was washed as a baby and my mother was confused as to why it kept curling even though she got all of the soap out. The time when my mother came to school for Career Day and cut my hair in front of the class. The time when I cut my long hair into a bob, and my aunt and grandmother pestered me about it until I grew it down my back again. For every event in my life, the question was always, “What are you going to do with your hair?” Too many times I was on my way out of the house, only to be forced into my mother’s salon chair so she could iron my hair.

But when I really think about it, I am not all that unique in caring about what my hair looks like. It seems to be what is on everyone’s mind. Thanks to having a mother who did my hair growing up, I know very little about how to do it myself. Now, it tends to be that however it looks when I wake up is how it looks all day. But friends of mine wake up hours early just to curl or straighten their hair before going to school. People express themselves with their hair choices, either by cutting it in creative fashions, or not cutting it at all. People dye their hair bubblegum pink, electric blue, or midnight black to send a message. Women flood into salons every day to pretend they haven’t aged in years and dye their hair the golden blonde of their youth. In faiths around the world, women cover their hair to show modesty.

Hair is a strong influencer in the stories we hear, too. Strong female characters in books chop off their hair before going into battle. Princesses in Disney movies grow their hair long to attract a prince. Mythological characters use their hair as a weapon. Biblical characters lose their power when their hair is chopped off.

And when we think our hair doesn’t look great, it’s often the first thing we apologize for when we see someone.

“I’m having a bad hair day,” we mumble, as if drawing more attention to what everyone can obviously see will make matters better for us. And bad hair days often just seem to become bad days in general. If our hair isn’t doing well, neither are we.

When someone suddenly drastically changes their hair, it can be a desperate attempt for control during a time of trauma.

Why do we care so much about our hair? Why do we identify with it? What does it represent to us that other physical characteristics seem to lack?

Me in college when I decided to be a red head for a season

The interesting thing about hair is that we don’t just change it to reflect what we are feeling, or rather, what we want the world to perceive we are feeling. Sometimes, our hair changes to reflect what’s really going on inside of us.

For instance, when we hit puberty, our hair often changes texture. As we age, as much as we may try to fight it, our hair grays. It can also turn gray when we are going through a particularly stressful period in our lives. And sometimes, if we get sick, our hair can fall right off of our heads.

I remember the first time it happened. Eyes closed, showering, I felt a clump of it release into my palm. It wound its way around my fingers, clinging desperately to my wet skin. My breath hitched in my throat. My heart pounded in my ears as I stared at my hand in disbelief. I desperately worked at trying to untangle the hairs from my fingers. If I could dispose of the evidence, perhaps it would be as if it never happened.

But it continued to happen again and again. In the shower, as I brushed through my hair, as I cleaned out the drains in the bathroom, as I picked at my clothes, clumps of hair appeared throughout my daily life. I remember the day I ran my fingers through my hair to pull it back into a ponytail, only to freeze in shock. I stared at my reflection in the mirror in horror. There were bald spots along my reflection’s scalp.

The dreams came next. The nightmares that woke me up in a cold sweat at night. It seems silly when I think about it. Of all the important things that were happening in my life, the terrors that frightened me at night were about being bald, as if that was the worst thing that could happen.

Me on the first day of my senior year of high school

But my hair was the last thing that defined my femininity. My body had shrunk to the size of a 12-year-old boy. My skin had paled to the point that the kids at school dubbed me the “walking dead.” I no longer wore cute clothes – I was too cold all the time. Instead, I huddled in sweats that engulfed my small frame. Besides the vain attempt I made in the mornings with a hint of mascara and a swipe of lipstick, my hair was all I had. And I loved my curls. The wildness and spontaneity of them reminded me of a younger, freer me.

It was years before I finally made the cut. I dealt with my hair in a bob for a long while, resisting the urge to pull it back to reveal where my hair had thinned or completely disappeared. But the need to finally do something drastic became too strong.

So, where the obsession with hair started – in my mother’s salon chair – was also where it came to a halt. The last of my locks fell to the floor. I stared at out at myself in her mirror with a smile. I was finally free.

I stare at my reflection in the window, and my lips curve into another small smile. Sure, there are days where the doubts creep in, when I lament over my appearance. But the power to do anything about it has been taken away, and that has given me more peace in my life than when I vainly attempted to make my hair look more presentable. I am always fully me, wherever I go. I show off my bare neck with pride. This is the hair of a girl who fought hard, and is still fighting. This is the hair of a girl who is not going to give up.

So, yes, I still identify with my hair, as we all do. But it no longer represents the me that I am trying to prove to the world that I am. My hair no longer reflects the teenager I was, fighting to be seen, to be heard, to be accepted and loved by her peers. My hair no longer cares what other people think. My hair represents the strength, the perseverance, and the fight I have lived.

My hair reflects the woman I have become, and the woman I hope to one day be.

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Health, Lifestyle, My Life

It’s about to get awkward: Let’s talk about pain

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Me at Loch Raven Reservoir

Can I be real with you all for a minute? It’s been a tough week.

I recently started listening to a podcast called Deeply Human that I highly recommend. It’s about why we do the things that we do, like get angry when we stand in lines or why it seems to get harder to find the perfect match the more we date, even though it seems like it should be the other way around. This past week, I listened to an episode on pain that hit deep. Pain is something I am no stranger to. I have dealt with chronic illness since I was 10 years old – there has not been a day in the last decade of my life that I have not experienced pain.

This may come as a surprise to some people. I am very active, & I normally consider myself to be a rather optimistic person as well. And, just to be clear, this illness has not made me feel any less grateful in my life. In fact, I think it’s helped me to realize just how blessed I am. I love my life. But, as much as I don’t want my illness to define my life, it is a part of it, just as much as my job, my relationship, or my cultural background. So, why am I comfortable talking about those things, but not about the pain I experience?

This podcast had a really good answer. Pain is something we all struggle to talk about first & foremost because it’s a private feeling. I can’t explain in words what it feels like to experience chronic pain. You can only kind of understand if you have chronic pain as well, but then, we still don’t quite have an understanding because everyone’s experience of pain is different. We all have different levels of tolerance. For example, if I burn my hand on a stove, & you burn your hand on the same stove, we could feel completely different levels of pain. So, even though we both are experiencing the same burn, we don’t truly have an understanding of what the other person is experiencing.

Secondly, there is a bit of a taboo associated with pain. When we express the pain we are going through, we try to make light of it – we diminish our experience because we don’t want people to feel sorry for us or make things awkward. To the same respect, the people we are telling about our pain feel pressured to keep things light as well. The topic moves on quickly. The trouble with this is that pain, whatever type it may be (mental, physical, acute, chronic) can seem very isolating. 

Pain is interesting because it is simultaneously a universal & very personal experience. We all experience pain, yet we can’t ever truly understand anyone’s pain but our own.

So, let me tell you about my week. It was an awesome week. I spent time with family & friends; I finished all of my work during the week (something that rarely happens), so I had the opportunity to have a lovely, relaxing weekend; I received my second vaccine shot; and my dad, brother & future sister-in-law came to visit me at my new house with a surprise gift: a new grill! It was a fun & exciting week, & yet, I spent quite a few days of it breaking down in tears because I received a disappointing letter. After years of fighting chronic illness, a trial program at Johns Hopkins was finally created to help bring relief to patients like me, but I didn’t get in.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

You know what’s interesting though? My pain level hasn’t changed in the last week. I feel the same as I always do. Despite the disappointment, the most painful thing about receiving this letter is that I felt like I couldn’t talk about it. I succumbed to the social pressures that said talking about pain was taboo & thought that expressing my feelings about this experience would bring other people down, so I tried not to talk about it at all. I shared about my job, had a date night with my fiancé, & posted pictures on Instagram about what was happening during my day, never even mentioning the biggest thing that had happened in my life because it would make things “awkward.”

The most painful thing about this past week is that I felt alone. While gathering documents to re-apply to the program & shuffling through lab report after lab report, I felt like I was the only one who could possibly understand what I was going through. It made my pain feel isolating.

But, I’m not alone. Whether you have experienced something like this or not, you have experienced pain. We all have. And, I think it might be time to start talking about it.

When I finally broke down this past week & shared my feelings, I felt a weight lift off of my shoulders. For days, despite all of the good happening around me, it felt like this was all I could think about. That letter had me shackled in silent suffering. Now, despite the fact that I am still experiencing pain & I still haven’t been accepted into the program, I feel free.

No matter what pain you are experiencing in your life, I want you to know that you’re not alone, & I encourage you, as awkward as it may be, to talk to someone about it. And if someone comes to you expressing a pain they have been experiencing, I encourage you not to change the topic because it’s “uncomfortable.” Lean into the discomfort. Get to know someone at that deep & personal level. And if you can, try practicing vulnerability & sharing some of your pain as well. I truly believe that if we start doing this, despite the different experiences of pain that we have, we will all realize once again the universal aspect of pain, & therefore, we will feel less alone & more connected than ever before. And that’s important, because connection – true human love & empathy – can be healing. Human connection has been proven to strengthen our immune systems, reduce stress, & help patients heal from trauma. Pain, in & of itself, can be traumatic. It wreaks havoc on our immune systems, & it can be the source of or a symptom of stress.

I know it’s not a magic pill. It won’t heal any pain you are experiencing, whether it be mental or physical. But speaking up & connecting with others will bring you comfort & support during your journey, & for a lot of us, I think that’s all we really want from our community.

Speaking up isn’t easy. This blog post is a start. If you need someone to talk to, please reach out to me. I would love to listen to your story.

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Lifestyle, My Life

My life soundtrack

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“Sometimes, I wish you’d pay more attention to my favorite songs because the lyrics sing words I’m too scared to say.” -unknown

When I was a teenager, this was one of my favorite quotes. I used to think about it as I listened to music with deep lyrics, feeling like no one understood. 

Since then, I have learned that I am not, in fact, alone, and that I do not have to rely on artists and their creative works to express my feelings. I have a voice of my own. 

However, I still love the idea that music speaks deeper into the soul than words do alone. I think that’s true. There’s something about the swell of instruments behind the perfect, poetic lyrics that have the ability to move people to tears or to dance.

Music has always been a big part of my life. I have pictures of me with an instrument in my hands before I could walk. Music is a gene that runs in my family the way blue eyes or crooked toes pass through the generations in others. 

When Joseph and I first met, we realized we had a lot of similarities, including a shared love of music. We are both pianists, and we have similar tastes in the music we listen to. It may seem silly to some, but for both of us, enjoying the same type of music was a requirement of the person we dated. Music is such a big part of both of our lives, neither of us could imagine being in a relationship with someone who didn’t like the same music we did.

Colorado road trip day one

Joseph and I spent almost the entirety of our second date driving around in his car, talking and listening to music. This also happened to be the date that I fell head over heels for him. 

Since that date, we have continued to listen to, share, and create music together. Joseph created a playlist for us in the second month of our relationship, and we have been curating it ever since. And since the very first time we listened to music together, I can always expect when I hop into Joseph’s car that he will have a new song to share with me. 

So, it is only fitting that on the first day of our Colorado road trip, I found the perfect driving activity for us on Pinterest: A guide for making a soundtrack playlist for our lives. We had so much fun choosing meaningful songs, ordering them according to our life story, and sharing the playlists with one another.

While listening to our playlists, I was brought back to that quote from my teenage years. The lyrics in those songs, placed in a particular order, did a better job of telling my life story than I could ever write. I felt like anyone who listened to that playlist would be able to get to know so much about me in just a little over an hour. Music has a way of capturing and sharing the human soul in such a powerful way, and that playlist had the whisperings of my soul written all over it.

So, without further ado, here is my playlist, and my reasons for choosing each song. I hope you enjoy listening, and if you have the chance, please create your own “life soundtrack” and leave the song names or link in the comments. I would love the chance to listen and get to know you a little better, too.

Opening credits – I Love Me by Demi Lovato (E)

When this song came out, I felt like the lyrics spoke directly into my heart. It’s such a perfect way to describe the internal struggle I have felt all of my life. I am a perfectionist, and I always find myself striving to be better. Honestly, most of the time, I just want to feel “good enough.” In the last year, I have learned how important it is to love myself – I need to love myself in order to love anyone else well. It’s been a journey getting to this point, and I think it is something I will continue to struggle with for the rest of my life. But I think the continued struggle and growth in this area of my life makes this the perfect opening song for my “soundtrack.” Plus, it’s upbeat, powerful melody makes it a great song to start off a movie and accompany the opening credits.

Campus Crusade for Christ retreat – I am created with a purpose

Waking up – Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen

I actually have gotten ready to this song…many, many times. It gets me moving and motivated for my day. I can just see the movie montage of my early morning routine playing along with this song.

Break up – The Breakup Song by Francesca Battistelli

I’m going out of order now, but I wanted to arrange the songs toreflect my life. My last big relationship ended before I went to college. However, this song speaks to more than just that relationship. The other thing I had to break up with before leaving for school was the actual subject of this song: Fear. I had always been naturally academic, but my health declined so sharply my junior year of high school that I had to leave. My senior year, I never stepped foot in my high school; instead, I took classes at the local college so I could schedule them around the times of day that I felt my worst. The idea of leaving home and going to a university after graduation, something I had always been excited about, started to terrify me. I didn’t know how I was going to manage the stress of school, a job, and taking care of my health. But, as Ellen Johnson Sirleaf said, “If your dreams do not scare you, they are not big enough.” So, I enrolled at Stevenson University, put my faith in God, and left the life I knew to pursue my dream. I have never regretted that decision.

High school graduation

First day of school – Whatever It Takes by Imagine Dragons

Like I mentioned, starting college was a big step and took a lot of perseverance. I think this song perfectly captures, not just the first day of school, but every day after that. I was doing whatever it took to graduate. And while my focus was spent on that, I lost myself a bit, which leads into the next song.

Fight song – Even If by MercyMe

When I was making my playlist, I didn’t even think twice in choosing my fight song. It was only when Joseph mentioned his choice (the much more upbeat Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin) that I realized the prompt probably meant a song that makes you move, not an introspective song. But, for me, that battle has always been internal. After being diagnosed with so many different chronic illnesses, my faith in God began to waiver. I didn’t understand why such a heavy burden had been placed on my life. God’s answer to me came in a song. Even If by MercyMe tackles the difficult topic of keeping faith even in the midst of the struggle, especially when that struggle doesn’t have an end date. It’s a moving piece that has always brought me tears and emboldened me to take on any challenge that comes my way. My faith, no matter what happens, is in God and his unfailing love.

Graduation – New Start by Weary Friend

I feel like this song beautifully captured how it felt when I graduated. I didn’t have much of a direction in mind. My first plan was to spend the summer running across the country as part of the Ulman Foundation’s 4K for Cancer program. Because of this commitment, I had not been able to line up a job yet, so I couldn’t envision much of the future beyond the summer season. But, for some reason, this didn’t really bother me. I trusted that everything was going to work out for the best, and I threw myself entirely into whatever the next adventure was going to be.

Graduation from Stevenson University

Falling in love – Could I Love You Any More? by Reneé Dominique ft. Jason Mraz

Just before graduating, I met the love my life. A little over a month into our relationship, he surprised me during a hike with his speaker and our first dance. This was the song he chose. I never could have picked a better song for us. Every day of our relationship, I have felt like I could not possibly love him any more than I already do, and yet, every day, I love him more than the last

Mental breakdown – In My Blood by Shawn Mendes

My health failed me again, the career opportunities did not pan out as expected, and some difficult circumstances had stripped me of my self-confidence. And I felt like it was all my fault. This was the song I listened to, the volume cranked up as far as it would go on my headphones, wondering where it had all gone wrong.

Flashback – Yellow by Coldplay

Joseph was the person who pulled me out of that dark place. He gave me the support and love I needed, and he reminded me of my faith in God. As we talked one day, this song started to play. It’s the earliest song I can remember listening to on repeat. When I was young, all I knew was that yellow was my favorite color, so I loved the song. As I grew older, I fell in love with the lyrics, and I dreamed of a man one day playing this song for me. Joseph fulfilled that dream, and he far surpassed so many others.

Job/Career – If I was by Susto

I started to grow my holistic health business, Evolve, while continuing to pursue my freelance writing career. The common strain between both of these jobs, and everything I have ever done, is that I just want to help people and love them well. I feel this song captures that sentiment in such a poetic way.

Teaching yoga at Stevenson University

Wedding – At Last by Etta James

Now, we are looking into the future, because these moments have not yet occurred. But I picked the songs I thought were most appropriate. For my wedding, I chose this song, because Joseph and I both love of jazz music, and we plan on playing ‘40s music at our wedding. This song particularly captures that feeling of comfort and contentment when you know you have found the person you are going to spend the rest of your life with.

Birth of a child – Never Grow Up by Taylor Swift

Life is beautiful, but it is full of pain. I know when I have a child, I am going to want to shelter him or her from all of that, even though I can’t. This song, with instrumentals reminiscent of a lullaby, is that hopeful message of a mother to her child.

Life – Fix You by Coldplay

This is my “trailer song.” I always imagined that if my life were made into a movie, this would be the song during the trailer. I have always loved this song. It’s comforting yet honest. Life is hard; but together, we can mend our broken parts.

With my family at my grandmother’s
celebration of life

Being an old hag – Dream by Priscilla Ahn

I really hope that I never become so ornery and impatient that people describe me as a “hag,” so I chose instead to find a song that is how I hope to feel when reflecting back on life in my old age. I feel like this song describes me perfectly as a child, and then as a teenager and young adult. So, hopefully, one day it will describe me in my old age as well.

Death – Stuff We Did by Michael Giacchino

On my third date with Joseph, we went for a ten-mile hike, but I’m not sure if it was actually supposed to be that long. We got lost in the woods for a while. When we broke through the trees, Joseph called out, “Adventure is out there!” With my thumb stuck up, I responded, “Adventure is out there.” He loved that I got the reference, and we discovered then our mutual love for Disney’s and Pixar’s “Up.” “Adventure is out there” has become the tagline of our relationship. So, for my death, I couldn’t think of a better song than that poignantly beautiful piano melody that plays when the main character, Carl Fredricksen, looks back over the pictures of his life with Ellie, his recently deceased wife. It’s a bittersweet moment, one that makes my eyes well up with tears every time I watch it. I hope that, when I die, it’s the good memories that are focused on, rather than the pain of departure from this life.

Dancing with Joseph to our song, just before he proposed

Funeral – To Build a Home by The Cinematic Orchestra and Patrick Watson

There is so much that we will build together in life, but one day, it will turn to dust. At that time, let’s not focus on what we have lost, but on the joy of the journey we took together. Life, and what we create in it, is finite, but love and its power is eternal.

Ending Credits Song One – Three Little Birds by Branches

The first time I heard this song, I thought it should be a part of a movie soundtrack. It’s a cover of the song by Bob Marley, but it is so very different from the original version. Instead of an upbeat, fun tune, it’s powerful and touching. The message, however, remains the same: Everything is going to be alright. I cannot think of a better ending to my story.

Ending Credits Song Two – Somewhere In Between by August Wilhelmsson

Ending credits in movies normally have two songs, one with lyrics and one without, so I thought it only appropriate that I do the same for my movie. This is a song I have often played during my meditations. It reminds me of just how small I am in this universe, but how very precious my life still is. This song makes me stop and notice the beauty of the world around me. It’s the song that makes me pause and just be for a moment. At the end of my movie, that is what I would hope the viewer would do, too. Pause for a moment. Breathe. Feel your heart beating within in your chest. Recognize the fragility of life, and consider, not how that truth limits our experience on earth, but how it makes it more precious. Let gratitude fill your soul. And just be.

P.S. I also wanted to include the link to Joseph’s playlist. He has amazing taste in music (I often believe it’s better than mine, but don’t tell him that), and his playlist beautifully captures his life and who he is. 

Opening credits – Morning Sun by Melody Gardot

Waking up – Breathe (In the Air) by Pink Floyd

First day of school – Thus Little Light of Mine by Rend Collective

Break Up – Moving on and Getting Over by John Mayer

Fight song – Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin

Mental breakdown – 1-800-273-8255 by Logic

Falling in Love – Could I Love You Any More? by Reneé Dominique ft. Jason Mraz

Graduation – It’s been a long, long time by Harry James

Wedding – No Matter Where You Are (Wedding Version) by Us the Duo

Career/Job – You Do You by Jason Mraz ft. Tiffany Haddish

Birth of a child – It’s You I Like by Ellie Schmidly 

Life – Living of Love by The Avett Brothers

Flashback – A Little Bit of Everything by Dawes

Being an old hag – Retired by Carl Broemel 

Death – No Hard Feelings by The Avett Brothers

Funeral – On the Nature of Daylight by Max Richter 

End Credits song one – Sweet Dreams by Roy Buchanan 

End credits song two – Smile by Nat King Cole

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Lifestyle, My Life

Hello world! This is my story

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I’m so glad you decided to drop by.

My name is Tyler, and this is my first blog post. For most of my posts, I plan on writing about things actually happening in my life, or about topics that I find interesting (and I think you will, too!). But, I thought I would use this opportunity to tell you a little bit about myself.

I grew up in southern Maryland, and I have been a writer for as long as I can remember. I wrote my first short story when I was four years old about the ants that had trespassed into my house, and I have been writing stories ever since. 

For most of my life, fiction was my main form of writing. I loved using my imagination and escaping into the worlds I created. My characters were almost as important to me as the real people I knew in my life. 

When I started college, everyone expected me to be an English major. But I went for communications instead. It was the “smart” choice, because it gave me to opportunity to fall back on a degree that offered plenty of career opportunities should the “writing thing” not pan out. 

I still wanted to focus my elective choices on my true passion. Creative fiction writing was no longer an option, but journalism seemed like a good idea. It was still telling stories, but now my subjects were real people. 

Induction ceremony into Alpha Chi my junior year of college

I fell in love with journalism. I loved the opportunity to give someone the spotlight and make them feel special. 

The thing about journalism, though, is it’s normally pretty cut and dry. The inverted pyramid style taught by my professors always felt so confining and suffocating. They wanted to know what happened, and when and how it occurred. I just wanted to describe my real living character and tell their story. 

So, I took the skills I learned in my journalism classes, and I moved on to creative nonfiction. In these classes, with magazine writing style format, I was given the opportunity to expand my typical 400-word news stories to 2,000-word expositions. For the girl who once couldn’t keep her middle school assignments under 10 pages, this increased word count was surprisingly freeing. I had learned from journalism how to strip a story down to its bare bones; now I had the opportunity to expand on only the most important details (and the knowledge to know what those details were). 

During all this time, however, I don’t think I ever truly found my voice. In all the stories I had ever told, I had neglected one very important one: my own. 

When my professor said we had to write memoirs for our class, I was distraught. I didn’t believe that I had a story to tell. Which is funny because I had anything but the conventional childhood. 

I have suffered from chronic illness since the age of 10, when I was diagnosed with Lyme disease. Twelve diagnoses and over a decade later, I am no stranger to pain, to overcoming challenges, to perseverance, three things that can make a great story. 

Induction ceremony into Delta Alpha Pi (academic honor society for high-achieving students with disabilities) with my good friend Caitlin

The trouble is, what really makes a good story is being able to connect with the reader. While my story was one full of plot possibilities, I didn’t believe it was one anyone would want to read. 

My professor told us to choose any topic, and that she would be the only one to read it. Even with that information, I did not want to tell any story that was painful to write. However, after weeks of brainstorming, I couldn’t get one particular story out of my mind. It wasn’t one I wanted to share, but after years of denying this particular moment, it was time to face it.

When I handed in the memoir about my hospitalization for anorexia to my professor, I was visibly shaking. I felt raw and exposed. I was convinced it wasn’t the story anyone wanted. 

I had always gotten high marks on my papers. But when my professor handed my memoir back, it was the first time anyone had asked me for more. She asked me to let my peers read it. Nervously, I handed it to one of my classmates. Once again, I waited with bated breath, hating myself for sharing something so personal. But when she returned to me, tears brimming in her eyes, she thanked me for telling the story she had been too scared to share herself. 

It was then that I learned that not only do I have a story to share, but it’s one that actually touches people. It’s one that can comfort and encourage, one that can facilitate connection and possibly inspire others’ creativity.

Since a young age, I have always wanted to help other people. But it took me nearly two decades to discover that my way of doing that was the thing I have always been most passionate about: writing. 

So, this is my blog, and on it, I plan to share my story, and also some other things that I have grown passionate about over the years. I am going to talk about the travels I have taken, and the adventures I am still going on, because I have found that the best way to learn more is to go places you have never been. I am going to share about ways I have found to find balance in my life, mentally, physically and spiritually, because dealing with chronic health has taught me that self-care is one of the most important ways to care for yourself and others. And most importantly, I am going to talk about the people in my life: those who have inspired me, those who have made me who I am, and those who I am growing with. 

I hope this is a place where you can find inspiration, illumination and comfort. I hope it’s a place where you can read something authentic, and then know that it’s okay for you to be yourself, too. And most importantly, I hope it inspires you to tell your story, in whatever way feels most natural to you. Create art, write poetry, talk to people, volunteer…whatever makes you feel most alive. And when you do, please leave a comment and tell me about it – I would love to hear your story, too. 

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