Okay, bear with me because I truly despise pitying myself like this. But September Letters and Parachute have helped me tremendously, which never would’ve happened without people opening up, so here goes nothing. I was diagnosed with Lyme disease, among a ton of other things, about a year ago.

This process hasn’t been easy, to say the least. Before it all started, I lived a normal life. I went to high school, went on dates, hung out with friends, all of the normal things. So of course, when that was ripped out from under me, my mind went to negative places. My doctors and parents constantly told me how important it was to stay positive, but in my eyes, that was nonsense. My thought process was: how could my mind possibly affect a disease that my body is battling? I wallowed in that thinking for a long time and guess what? I got worse.

Every time I got worse, I forgot about all of the positive and only focused on the negative: the fear of never getting better, anger at the world for letting this happen to me at 15, being mad at myself for not trying hard enough to get better. The list goes on. I eventually got so bad I couldn’t see my friends. Then I couldn’t leave the house. Then I could barely get out of bed. The problem was I let my symptoms stop me. I stopped trying. I told myself I was dying and believed it like it was the truth. Then one day, something snapped. I was tired. I missed my life, and I decided I couldn’t let myself sit in the negatives of this disease any longer. I’d be lying if I said it was easy, but the first big step was learning to be proud of myself. I stopped belittling my achievements and instead celebrated the small victories. Step by step, I began taking my life back. I started thinking about life after this, my friends, my family, my girlfriend, college, future careers, all of it. I let myself feel excited again. I have this habit now where I high-five myself when I do something difficult. It instilled in me that everything, no matter how small, is a necessary step. My outlook shifted from focusing on what I was losing to what I still had.

Who would’ve guessed that my doctors, trained professionals, knew what they were talking about? The hard truth for me was that no matter how many new pills and treatments I tried, real change didn’t begin until I changed the way I was thinking. I’m not completely cured yet, but I celebrate the small things. I eat dinner with my family every night again. I’m making plans for my future, wholeheartedly believing that I can achieve them. The moral of this is simple: your mind matters. You have more power than you think. Don’t choose what’s easy, choose what’s important. You get to define what’s possible for yourself.