“Patience is the calm acceptance that things can happen in a different order than the one you have in mind.”
~ David G. Allen
I was kind of hoping to be sleeping right now. It’s 2am, and I was only fretfully sleeping at best between 8 and 11pm. Now I’m wide awake and I know the rest of the night is going to be a horror.
So I might as well blog.
I’m still herxing. My hopeful post yesterday about waking up and being done (yay? ) was all just a little premature. What I actually experienced was a lull before Cyclone Lyme returned for a little more devastation.
Let’s just say I’m not having fun.
This disease (and like most Lyme sufferers I have several co-infections rather than simply one nemesis) is certainly teaching me patience.
I have all this stuff I want to do. I have all this stuff I’d planned to do. And of course those plans have all gone out the window.
After I sleep next I might wake up and this will be behind me. After I sleep next I might wake up and still be deep in herxing land. The only thing I can do is go with it, be patient, and know that eventually this crazy ride will come to an end.
You can’t do anything useful while you’re herxing. As the bacteria are dying, sending endotoxins into your system faster than your body can clear them, you end up with a cascading inflammatory effect that plays havoc with your system.
Right now my symptoms include nausea, vomiting and diarrhoea, puffy streaming eyes and nose, chest pain, nerve pain, joint pain, abdominal pain, impaired balance, itchy skin as though I am being bitten by ants, fevers and night sweats, headaches, random stabbing pains, swollen glands and raw throat. The one happy thought is that prior to today my mind was also on vacation – everything felt as if I was thinking through cotton wool. Now my mind is bright and clear. It’s just the rest of me that isn’t playing nice.
I’m okay with the process though. If this is how I heal, then I can roll with it. I have an arsenal of herbs and activated charcoal and zeolites and other great feel-better tricks in my tool kit. I have terrific doctors and natural therapists. I have enough Epsom Salts to start my own bath salts company. I have crystals to clutch and aromatherapy to sniff. I have a veranda where I can sit in the dark and talk to the owls. A whole farm where I can howl at the moon. The hospital is a short ride away, should I need it. My husband is asleep in the next room, and Harry the hound is sleeping on my feet, keeping me company while Bert sleeps in the space I vacated. I’m so grateful not to be alone and going through this, as too many people are.
I’m so grateful to be having a massive herx NOW and not when I’ve been working, and not when I’m on retreat. It’s actually pretty good timing, all things considered.
Anyway, it only feels like dying. Having looked at that end-of-your-life place from far too close, I KNOW that this shitty space I’m in right now is worth it. Life is worth it. Health is worth it.
Every time I have a massive herx like this, I end up with an equally massive shift in my health and I climb further back out of this hell-hole that has been my life for the past thirty years.
I really did try to make the best of that hole. I wallpapered and made it pretty, installed a comfy couch, put positive affirmations on the walls, surrounded myself with uplifting things. But it was still a hole. And each year it got a little deeper, and the sunshine seemed a little further away.
Looking back at me, a year ago, I can see how far I have already come. A year ago I was dying. There seemed to be no path forward other than faith, and trust me, that was thin on the ground.
Now I’m making real progress. On a non-herxy day I have a brain that works, a heart that behaves, better bloods, more energy, the ability to walk, talk and breathe all at the same time. My prognosis is good. I’m writing again. I’m working again. I have my life back.
All I need to do is stick with the treatment, put up with the herxes, and hang in there. I’m getting better. I have tangible proof of that.
By the time you read this, with any luck I shall be asleep. Fingers crossed, hey?
If I could leave you with one thought, it would be this: Don’t give up. You never know how close you are to a major breakthrough.
Wishing you your own breakthroughs, synchronicities, answers and miracles today. Bless ♥ xx