Linzi Booth

The last 12 months have changed me in ways I never could have prepared for.

I’ve lost all my female organs through major hysterectomy.
I battled a serious infection after that took everything out of me.
And just when I thought I could begin to recover. I was diagnosed with chronic Lyme disease.

This year has tested me physically, mentally, and emotionally in ways I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

There have been days I’ve felt completely broken. Days where just getting out of bed felt like a victory. Days where the pain, the exhaustion, and the unknown felt too much.

This isn’t just a story it’s my reality. This is personal. This is raw. And this is my comeback.
Not the kind of comeback that happens overnight.
Not the kind where everything is suddenly “fixed.”
But the kind where you fight quietly every single day.
Where you rebuild yourself piece by piece.
Where strength doesn’t always look strong but it shows up anyway.

And I know I’m not alone in this.

There are so many people out there fighting silent battles. Living with chronic illness. Smiling on the outside while struggling on the inside. Carrying pain that nobody else can see.

This part of my journey is for you too.

For the ones who feel misunderstood.
For the ones who feel exhausted beyond words.
For the ones who keep going anyway.

I see you. I understand you. And you are not alone.

And to anyone who might look at me posting photos or videos and think, “she’s showing off”.
You don’t see the behind-the-scenes.
You don’t see the pain I push through just to get ready.
You don’t see the days I almost didn’t make it out of bed.
You don’t see the strength it takes just to show up and smile.

What you’re seeing isn’t showing off it’s surviving. It’s healing. It’s me refusing to give up.

I’m going to share my journey honestly, openly, and without filters. The good days, the bad days, the setbacks, and the small wins.

Because healing isn’t a straight line but every step forward matters.

Right now, I’m taking it one step at a time. Learning to listen to my body. Learning to rest without guilt. Learning to fight in a way that doesn’t break me.

And slowly I will rise again.

If you’re in the middle of your own battle right now please don’t give up.

Your story isn’t over.
Your strength is greater than you think.
And your comeback is already in motion… even if you can’t see it yet.

Stronger days are coming for me, for you, for all of us.
Watch us rise.

Living with chronic Lyme disease is one of the toughest battles I’ve ever faced.
Never in my wildest dreams since December did I think this illness would try to completely destroy my life. What started as something I hoped would be quickly diagnosed and treated has turned into a long, exhausting fight for answers and recovery.
Over the past months I’ve been through endless appointments, tests, and treatment including 21 days of antibiotics hoping to see some real improvement. Unfortunately, the progress so far has been minimal. The symptoms are still very real and still very difficult to live with day to day.
Mobility issues, constant headaches, the heavy “concrete legs” feeling, sore soles of my feet, still on my crutches to keep me safely upright and even problems with speech at times. Some days are slightly better than others, but overall this illness is relentless and it affects every part of daily life.
To think I had never heard of it before I became poorly.
What many people don’t realise is that Lyme disease isn’t always straightforward. It has many co infections which I have.Even after positive test results, treatment can be complex and recovery isn’t always quick. My infectious disease consultant has told me not to expect any miracles within 2 years. It often requires specialist knowledge and doctors who truly understand the condition. I’m devastated at times but I’m determined this isn’t going to happen.
Because of this, I’m now hoping that a professor in Ireland who specialises in Lyme disease may be willing to review my case and potentially take me on as a patient. The paperwork and all my results have been sent off today and his team have received them.At this stage I’m simply looking for the right expertise and someone who is willing to dig deeper into what’s going on.

I’m not giving up. I never will. But this journey is far from easy, and sometimes honesty about the reality of it is important.
Still fighting. Still searching for answers.

Keep your fingers crossed for me I can be accepted to Ireland and get the treatment I desperately need. Will keep you all posted!

No more shrinking myself to make other people comfortable.
No more being told what I can and can’t say.
No more fear of speaking the truth.

Trying to control someone’s voice is a form of intimidation. Trying to silence someone who’s standing up for what they believe in says more about the oppressor than the person speaking out.

I’ve been underestimated. I’ve been dismissed. I’ve been told to “calm down,” to “stop talking,” to “leave it alone.” “Stop been negative” “control your team” “make everything positive “.

But here’s the thing when you’ve seen injustice, when you’ve watched people hurt, when you’ve felt the pressure to stay quiet something in you shifts.

I will not be controlled.
I will not be manipulated.
And I absolutely will not be silenced.

If my voice makes you uncomfortable, ask yourself why.

Truth doesn’t need permission. And I’m not asking for it anymore.

Thought the lyrics are very fitting for this post.

Another day, another hospital appointment this time for my heart. Chronic illness affects every part of your body.

I won’t dress it up. Since December it has been brutal. Appointments, tests, setbacks, pushing through when I don’t feel like I have anything left. But I am getting stronger. Maybe not in the way people see on the outside yet but I feel it building.

Illness will never take my voice. It might slow me down. It might force me into the background for a while. But it will never silence me. I’ve always fought for people and that won’t ever change.

Right now I’m rebuilding in private. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. Quietly stacking strength back up piece by piece.

And believe me when this bear wakes up because she’s been well and truly poked she’s going to roar.

For now, I’m focused. Healing. Growing. Getting ready.

Much love ❤️

Illness changes you in ways no one really talks about.

Not just physically.Not just mentally.But socially. Emotionally. Spiritually.

When you become seriously ill, your world gets very small, very fast. Your focus shifts to surviving. To getting through the day. To managing pain, symptoms, appointments, fear, uncertainty.

And in that quiet, something else happens.
You start to notice who stays.
Who checks in.
Who remembers you exist.
Who sends a simple “thinking of you” text.
Who asks how you really are and actually means it.

You also start to notice who disappears.

People you once spoke to every day.
People who called you a friend.
People who benefited from your energy, your time, your support, your work.

Gone. P**f 💨

No message.No “are you okay?”No “how can I help?”Just silence.

And the hardest part?

Realising that for some people, the connection was never about you as a person.
It was about what you could do for them.
What you could give them.
What you could bring to the table.
What you could make them.
When you’re no longer making them money.
When you’re no longer useful.
When you’re no longer convenient.

They vanish.
That realisation cuts deep.
But it also brings clarity.

Because illness has a brutal way of stripping away illusions.It exposes intentions.It reveals motives.
It shows you loyalty in its truest form.

Loyalty isn’t loud.It isn’t performative.
It doesn’t need an audience.

Loyalty is the quiet check-in.The consistency.
The people who stay when there’s nothing to gain.

This journey has taught me that a small circle of genuine people is worth more than a huge network of surface-level connections.

I’ve lost a lot.

My health.
My independence.
My old life.
And yes I’ve lost people too.

But I’ve also gained something priceless:

Clarity.
Boundaries.
Self-respect.
And a deeper appreciation for the ones who truly show up.

So if you’re one of the people who has checked in, held space, sent messages, or simply stayed Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.

And to the rest?
I release you with no anger.
Because I now understand:
Not everyone who walks beside you is meant to walk with you forever.

Quality over quantity and those “friends “will never eat at my table again!
Bee 🐝