I knew that I’d need to ask people in my inner circle for money. It felt like I was asking for help. And I don’t like asking for help.
It made me feel really exposed.
I might seem like someone who is totally cool with expressing my deepest and darkest. For the most part, I am! Just as long as I’m expressing myself to strangers. And when I write this blog, I picture the audience as strangers. (Strangers with whom I have a common identity thanks to this massive pain in the rear end called lupus.)
I don’t write this blog for my healthy friends, family, and colleagues. So asking them to give me money is like admitting to the world that I’m sick and can’t do it alone.
Unless you’ve physically spent more than a few hours with me at any given time, I probably don’t seem sick. My illness has made me an excellent planner and an excellent faker. When I see most of the friends, family, and colleagues I solicited money from, I’ve planned and napped and drank more coffee than I should have. I’ve over-applied mascara and bright lip-gloss and, applied a bucket of concealer on the dark circles under my eyes. I’ve rearranged my day as much as possible to give them my very, very best.
But here’s the funny thing: I asked for help; I asked for pledges; and so many people responded. So I’m writing this post to say thank you, from the bottom of my heart. First to my husband, who wrote what he wrote on his race bib and made me fall in love with him all over again. Next to my team—who gave up their Saturday afternoons and showed up with smiles. Janellen, Sarah, Kelli, Deb, and the little people: You’re awesome. Third, thank you to everyone who donated. Your generosity stuns me. The nice words you included along with your donations were the ice cream on my gluten free lemon-ricotta pancakes. I raised three times—THREE TIMES—more than my goal!
So, to all my colleagues, friends, and family who donated to the lupus walk, thank you.
And to those people who are closest to me, the ones who routinely spend more than a few hours with me, the ones who routinely see my broken bits and love me anyway, thank you for supporting my walk. And for holding all my shattered pieces together in a way that’s more complete than had I never been broken by lupus at all.
The 2016 Lupus Colorado Walk raised $40,000 – well over their $25,000 goal – and every penny stays in Colorado to help people living with lupus. Thank you!