Lessons Learned Through Joy, Pain, and Self-Discovery

[Note: This article originally appeared on Pro Health on December 7th, 2015. www.prohealth.com. Christmas is a time for reflection over the past year, and celebrating the possibilities for the new year. It seems appropriate to me then, that I would post this article today. Wishing everyone a very Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and a new year filled with joy, peace, and healing. Here’s to 2016!]

October 24, 2013, was probably an average Thursday in the lives of most people. For me, however, it was a life-changing day; it was the day I finally had some answers. After numerous doctors and ten years of seriously declining health–the last 18-months of which I spent bedridden–I listened sharply on the phone as my nurse practitioner informed me, “You have Lyme Disease. You’ve probably had it most of your life.”

I was both scared and relieved to hear this news. Scared because, well, I knew I would be embarking on one of the greatest challenges of my life, and relieved because I was no longer in the dark about what to call the mysterious illness wreaking havoc on my body. The list of diagnoses I had collected over the years–from Interstitial Cystitis and Myalgic Encephalomyelitis to Fibromyalgia, and Adrenal Fatigue–all suddenly seemed interconnected. I knew the path to reclaiming my health would require patience, persistence, effort, and faith. Nevertheless, I was ready to confront the illness that had sidelined me for years. Thankfully, I had the support of my loving husband and family.

On that fall morning in October, my nurse practitioner laid the groundwork for a treatment protocol that has slowly helped me to rebuild my life, one tiny step at a time. There are layers of damage to address as a result of going years–maybe even decades–with undiagnosed, systemic infections. I just passed the two-year treatment mark. I am not cured or well yet, but I am healing. I still have ups and downs; I have flashes where it seems like remission is in reach and stages where I can barely lift my head from the pillow. In spite of all the highs and lows along this bumpy road, I am forever transformed by the lessons learned through joy, pain and, self-discovery. Here are those lessons:

Learn to resist the urge to dwell in a negative headspace for long periods of time.

In the beginning, I had spent countless amounts of energy thinking about the past; what I once was capable of doing, and the social life I had prior to my illness. Dwelling on the past immediately ushered me into a very dark, negative place in my mind. Isolated from the things and people I loved the most, the loneliness was heartbreaking. I felt hopeless, lost and frustrated. I grew too fearful to even imagine a future where joy and dreams could exist. Sickness appeared to win and overtake the best parts of me.

I am not exactly sure when the shift in my thinking occurred; but my core, my spirit, the very deepest places of me, eventually changed. I let go of anger and gave cheap generic soma myself permission to redefine my identity in spite of the struggles I faced. In contrast, by maintaining my focus on the present and not the past, I discovered more peace within my situation. Slowly, I began to see light and hope in the places once occupied by darkness and negativity. I still struggle, but I see an opportunity for personal growth in the midst of my troubles and I choose to embrace it. I am more content nowadays as I take on these health challenges, and much less likely to contemplate the gloomy side of things.

When one chapter of life closes, a new chapter begins.

Early in my treatment, I came across a wonderful quote from Pastor Brian Houston. It reads:

“Never ever confuse the end of an era in your life as the completion of your destiny.”

The truth of his words gripped my heart with such conviction I have yet to forget them. He was right. There was no denying that an era in my life had ended. Although I grieved those devastating losses for months, I began to hope and affirm a new beginning; a season of healing and anticipation, in my life. I anchored my thoughts to the idea that I still had a purpose and a destiny, and I have not looked back.

Even though I am strained beneath the weight of a controversial illness, I know I still have a unique set of gifts and talents worth sharing with the world. I accept that Lyme disease is my present circumstance. Thankfully, circumstances can and do change. However, the destiny for my life does not. It’s so freeing to write that!

Take time to celebrate the small victories.

Yes, I still have a chronic illness, but I repeatedly test the notion that I can’t enjoy life. I frequently take mental vacations from my illness– from obsessing over it, Googling it, and chatting about it. Instead, I try to celebrate small victories and nurture my adventuresome spirit.

I snap pictures of just about everything I do. That’s become my approach to maintaining a celebratory, productive outlook. When progress seems slow to come, I can look at these visual reminders and see there have been several small victories. These accomplishments help me to combat adversity and renew my optimism.

I hope I will one day beat Lyme disease altogether. I am steadfast in my determination and more resilient than I realized. Ultimately, there are many more healing milestones to celebrate along the way.

My current treatment is aggressive and will continue to be intense for a while. Although someone else could be angry about their experience with chronic Lyme disease, most of the time, I am not. I choose to stay grateful that I have a body that refuses to give up. Another person– a different body– may have quit a long time ago. In the middle of all the chaos, there have been moments of immense happiness over the last two years. I live for those moments. They are the fuel for my soul to continue this healing journey.

Adjusting To New Holiday Traditions

In 16 years, not a single snow storm or blizzard deterred me from seeing my family during the Christmas season.

Dating back to my freshman year of college, I would pack the car to the brim and drive to Minnesota. I usually brought a giant pile of dirty clothes to wash at my parents house, as I had typically run out of quarters by the end of the semester. In the years I had my job as an Occupational Therapist, I loaded the car with gifts that I had proudly purchased for my family. When I got married, my husband became part of my holiday traveling tradition also.

By 2011, I was no longer well enough to take those trips.

Christmas with my family is huge. Parents, sisters, brothers, cousins, children, grandchildren and friends all congregate at my Aunt’s house in what invariably turns into a 2-3 day marathon of food, fun and some serious card playing. Games like Canasta, Continental Rummy and Nuts have been a family tradition as far back as I can remember. I grew up playing cards and learned to count while playing poker with my grandmother. My cousin, Julie, is the undisputed card-playing champion of the family. Her hands move so fast, at times they’re blurry.

I miss those days.

Not yet strong enough to endure the Christmas festivities, I find myself trying to create new traditions in Chicago.

In our apartment, we have a small, buy carisoprodol canada decorated tree that sits on our mantel. We tried a 7 foot tree one year, but my beagle tried to eat it so we had to downsize.

Every year, I pose the beagles in costumes just long enough to snap a pic or two. I have a reindeer, a Santa suit and a snowman costume. The costumes are decided based on their cooperation. This year, I had a pocket full of yummy treats so I had their full participation.

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Like last year, my mother will be coming the day after Christmas. We will partake in our annual tradition of driving around looking for the best displays of Christmas lights. We have been doing this since I was a child, first in my hometown of Winona, and now in Chicago. This is one of my favorite Christmas-time activities.

There are moments however, where I realize I am not yet adjusted to my life with Lyme and such an uneventful holiday season. There will be no big, family meal and no presents to unwrap, as every spare cent we have goes towards my treatment. Such quietness seems foreign to me.

Hopefully, I will one day soon be able to enjoy Christmas and the busyness once again!

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Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays from me, Tom, Seven (15 yrs) and Caylie (12 yrs)!