I would give anything for perfect attendance

My name is Katie. I'm almost 23 years old. I have asthma. I also have endometriosis. Migraines. A wheat/gluten intolerance. Permanent tendonitis in my ankles. I've struggled with depression and anxiety. Some of my doctor's think I have Crohn's Disease...some think I'm just unlucky. Some think I'm just a head case. Most just have no clue what's wrong with me.

By the age of 18, two close friends and another I considered a brother committed suicide.

I was uprooted to another state when I was 12.

For the last seven years, I have endured medical hell. I have been scoped, poked and prodded by more doctors than most people endure in an lifetime. In seven years, I have seen 16 different doctors, 15 of those being specialists. Only a handful of them have come up with answers.

I endured this through the last two and a half years of high school and all four years of college. I graduated college with honors. I have a full-time job now. While in college, I wrote for the school newspaper and during my senior year, I ran that newspaper (with a ridiculous amount of help and support from my mentors, best friends and peers mind you).

Two weeks ago, I had my second upper endoscopy because I'm currently force feeding myself, unable to go one day without being extremely nauseous.

Some days, I wake up hoping it's all been a dream. But when I open my eyes every morning, I realize that I'm facing my medical hell for another day.

I started this blog because in the last few months, people have been reaching out for one question: How do you do it? 

How do I survive? The simple answer is I have to. I love my family, friends and life (most days on that last one) too much to just throw in the towel. My family and friends believe in me, so I have to believe in me, too.

I'm here to provide support, to help you understand that you are not alone.

When you are being pushed to your limit because of your health, especially when it's a disease that cannot visibly be seen, it's the most lonely feeling in the world. People frequently question whether you're faking it, and there's no way to make them understand your pain, frustration, anger and sadness.

I understand. I understand what it's like to wake up in the morning and want to cry because the pain isn't gone. I understand what it's like to hear doctor's say "well, this isn't working...I'm not sure what else we can do for you," and to leave their office empty handed.

You're not alone. Not anymore.