bear medicine and rebuilding foundations

Over the last week I've seen two bears...  and on recent trash days, it's been clear that they've been around much more than that, due to the messes they've been leaving around my neighborhood...

The animal medicine cards remind me that bear is all about introspection...  she's about seeking truth and inner knowing, intuituion and instinct. And in some ways, lately, now that the kids are both back in school, I feel as though I've been hibernating, hiding away deep down in the cave of my own longing...

Week 2 of the 3rd round of the 2nd phase has been a little easier than last week... thankfully, I'm not taking quite as much stuff. I am experiencing some loss in appetite, some belly aches, some mild headaches, nausea, and fatigue....  but I'd say that even more than these few physical symptoms, I'm mostly feeling it emotionally this week. Interestingly, I've noticed that my heart feels more open, like a window letting in the breeze and warmth of the sunshine.  I seem to feel love and compassion a whole lot stronger, which feels really good....  but I also feel everything else a lot stronger as well....  and some of those things aren't nearly as pleasant.

It doesn't help that I've a had a couple of blows this week, including going over to my neighbor's house to let her dog in, and finding that her beautiful black lab, Maggie, had passed away.  So, so sad....

I also have to admit, I haven't been able to completely let go of what happened last week with the carpool situation. I still hurt from all that, not so much from the woman who called that day, but from there seeming to be no carpool at all at this point, as it seems that I've been dropped by all of them now.  And so I've been picking up both kiddos every day since school began... which even though has had me feeling a bit nerdish and left out, has ultimately been fine, and dare I say, even welcome... for now. I'm just not sure how long I'll be able to keep it up, and I struggle within myself as I try to decipher if things are truly okay, or if they just have to be okay, because that's the only option there is.

I suppose I'm feeling extra sensitive to what feels like the loss of friendship and tribe, as I find myself questioning and trying to understand the motives and intentions of those around me, and moving in and out of a screw-the-world kind of place, not wanting to trust anyone. I'm tired of bullshit and pretense and dancing around my illness so as not to make others feel uncomfortable. It's exhausting. And while I have such a rich online community that seems to really care, I'm tired of wondering why so few of my local friends call me up and ask how I am. Is it just that Lyme disease is so very misunderstood? Do people not realize how very hard and lonely this journey can be? Or is it just me, clinging to the struggle?

And so I come stumbling back to the red thread again, and remember that all I need to be responsible for is me, this spot right here, and that their story is their story, not mine. And it comes down to owning my own life, trusting my own inner mama-bear knowing, and choosing in this very moment what I wish to surround myself with....  and that is truth, deep caring, shared vulnerability, getting down to the bare naked nitty gritty of what's real and meaningful, loving and sustainable.

And so I'm doing some letting go and deconstructing of some of the illusions that I've built up around myself. I'm emptying myself of extraneous stuff. I'm paring down my address book, and letting go of people who don't seem to give a flying fig about what's going on with me. I'm cleaning out the cabinets and getting rid of the food that no longer nourishes me. I'm releasing more pieces of my business, sending out my last newsletter for the time being, simplifying my website and blog.

I don't like how "final" it all feels...  but I know underneath my fear that it's only as final as I want it to be. And I also know, without a smidgeon of doubt, that it's a necessary step in my healing, even though I seem to always be surprising myself with what I'm actually ready to release. It's as though I'm knocking down an old, torn up house in order to build a new one... going through the rubble and determining what boards and nails may be salvagable, and questioning if it's worth the risk to use them again...  tearing down every last piece of what I've always seen as my foundation, in order to create a new one that is strong enough to hold me and all that I've ever dreamed of.

This week:
Monday, Wednesday, & Friday--  Ceftin, Minocin, Malarone, Artemisinin, and Enula

counting the blessings

It's been a rough week. Just when you think you've maxed out on the yuck, there it is... more yuck. Emotions turn into headaches and nausea and achey muscles so easily. And yet holding in my emotions right now is simply not an option as the meds attack the boogers in my brain and leave me wearing every little piece of my heart out on my sleeve. And the taste of all of the meds that I can't shake from my tongue continuously irks me and stresses me out, leading to more emotions, leading to more headaches and nausea and achey muscles. It's a vicious cycle. And so now that the kiddos are both back in school again, I going to try to get back into meditating...  be vigilant about avoiding stress...  be very choosey about how I spend my time... and am hoping to go for some equine-assisted therapy, after Deena drove me to a neighboring farm last night to visit with the horses after I lost it a bit when Noah jokingly locked me out of the house. Their presence was so very soothing for me, and this calls to me.

And once again, I find myself revisiting the intense discomfort around asking for help. It's so very difficult to not feel like I'm asking too much, or like I'm taking advantage of people. It takes everything in me to trust that there is no scorecard, to shed the guilt of not being able to reciprocate right now and be grateful, and yet, I find myself baking cookies when I can barely stand long enough in the kitchen to do so, gifting chocolate, writing thank you notes, giving away my art, and doing whatever else I can to somehow make up for just a fraction of the help I receive.

A couple of days ago, I received a phone call from one of the kind people who was helping me get Zoe home during her first year of high school. It wasn't an ideal situation...  I still had to drive the twenty minutes or so to meet them on the outskirts of town, but for the most part, I was able to avoid the chaos of downtown traffic, and for them, it was on their way home. Unfortunately, when I had to venture in and pick up Zoe all the way in town, I wasn't able to give rides home to all of the other girls because there was less room in my car due to my having Noah with me as well...  and so I helped out as much as I could... got out of my car to thank them each time they dropped off Zoe except for those days when my body wouldn't allow it... and baked cookies...  and bought chocolate... yadayadayada... but evidently, it wasn't enough.

It turns out that she and one of the other moms had been talking, and had come to the conclusion that it was no longer fair that I wasn't doing more of the driving. Mind you, as school was inching closer, I was already in a panic about driving the shorter twenty minute jaunt as my treatment gets harder, and now this. So this (brief, because I ended up basically hanging up on her) phone call seemed to throw me off of the edge of an emotional cliff. I found myself questioning every relationship, every favor, every intention. Weeping uncontrollably. Feeling like there was no one out there to lean on. Finding myself wanting to scream, "You wanna know what's not fair???  Fucking lyme disease is not fair!!! Losing my business and my income is not fair! Losing my ability to go for a hike or do a normal yoga pose or write without getting a headache is not fair!"

A good night's sleep and some amazing compassion and kindess from my facebook friends brought back some perspective...   thankfully out of loser-ness, and into gratitude again. The fact is, we never know what another person faces...  and it's not my job to presume what her story is.  I used to find so much pleasure in people-watching and creating sagas in my head about where folks were going, what they were doing, who they were underneath the surface of their bodies. But those were my stories, not theirs. And so while I'm not completely void of the hurt I felt after the phone call, I can atleast remind myself that she has her own stuff going on, and that her words were really not about me.

But truth is, I'm terrified. Today is Zoe's first day of school, and I will be going all the way into town to pick her up later. I'm not sure how I'll be feeling. The addition of xylitol and lactoferrin this week has really intensified things, as they are biofilm busters, and evidently, I've got some biofilms goin' on! Yesterday, I had a mild fever and a dull headache that just wouldn't go away. Last night I had a dream that someone shot me in the head, and I woke up this morning with the same doggone headache. I've been chugging so much water that I have to pee every five minutes and it's better now, and I am hoping that the upswing will continue. Deena assures me that if come this afternoon I am feeling really bad, she will either pick up Zoe herself, or find someone who will....  and I trust that all will be well. But I'm still a bit shaken, wondering how we're going to cope as we head into the most intense treatment phase of all, not sure if I'll be able drive at all.

But despite all that, there is much to be grateful for... and what I'm really here to do today is to count my blessings.

There is my friend, Carol, who I've known since our daughters were still growing inside our bellies, who is willing to help in whatever way she can, and who is like family to me.

There is our neighbor, Tracy, who has the biggest heart I've ever seen, and is willing to drop everything and pick up the kids if she's not already busy, and always comes out for a catchin' up if she's home when I'm out walking the dog.

There is Marna, who emails me a sweet love note every single time I write something on this blog, and Carol, who almost always responds with supportive and compassionate comments.

There is Jaci, who spontaneously invites us to swim in her pool and offers up other healing things as well, and just makes me feel so loved even though I hardly ever get to see her.

There's Anne, my doc, who always answers my emails, and confirms that yes, this sucks, and yes, we are on the path to healing, and urges me to cry and get it out and reminds me of the spiritual journey I am on.

There's Terry and Paula, a couple of the wild women who continue to humble me by their love and deep friendship long after circle is over, and there are all of the other wild women who conintue to tug on the red thread from time to time, reminding me that we are still connected.

There is Whitney and Missy, who even with their own lives being topsy turvy, both pause to send me  texts letting me know they're thinking about me and reminding me of my own power.

There's Kyeli, who skypes with me every two weeks from across the country, and Brandie, who occasionally sends me a card in the mail, and countless, dear and precious people on Facebook who are always looking out for me, even though I will likely never meet many of them in person.

There are my parents and Deena's parents, who are constantly helping to fill in the enormous financial gaps with me not working and needing all this medical care. Although their profound support doesn't stop there...  I'm not sure how we ever got so lucky to be born into our families.

There is Zoe, who is always willing to overdose on games of Parcheesi with me just to distract me from my pain, and there is Noah, who makes me laugh with the quirky things that come out of his mouth, and inspires me with his own ferocious appetite for health in the form of a six-pack.

There's Deena, who loves me more than I ever imagined anyone loving me, and who is always there, no matter how crazy I get.

And there are so many more that my lyme-brain won't let me remember at the moment.

I am so gosh darn blessed.

moving with change

"Moving with Change" by Lisa J. Rough

I am soooo happy to be finishing up round 2 of phase 2 with a week off of meds.  Hallelujah. However, while I haven't had any nausea to speak of, I have been having more pain and fatigue than typical for these weeks off. Hopefully tomorrow's magnesium IV will help with that. I think a lot of it is due to a sense of surrender I've been feeling as an oh-so-subtle hint of autumn rolls through the mountains. These last few months have been kind of crazy with summertime shenanigans, and there have been moments that I've completely surprised myself for being able to keep up. I think my body is now like, okay, I can relax now!  Camps are over, family visits are over, and now that Deena and Noah have returned from Indiana, we don't have to travel anywhere for a good long while. 

Honestly, the summer has had me clinging to anything that made me feel "normal," and this last weekend, I crashed emotionally in a big way when all normalcy went flying out the window. With my honey gone and pretty much out of reach, and our back-up supports booked up with their own plans, I found myself wallowing in a sense of abandonment...  confusion...  lonliness...  wondering where the hell I stood in my own life. A healing crisis of sorts, I suppose. Thankfully, by Sunday, I was able to pull myself out of the shadows, and had such a special day with Zoe, who had been witnessing my weepy, self-pitying moments all weekend long. We went to the local Sourwood Festival and got inspired by some amazing artists and entered to win a tiny house and ate gluten free cupcakes, and then we came home and painted for hours on end. 

Phew. Change, whether it's big or little, short or lasting, can certainly be hard... and these days, I'm learning that with Lyme disease, each shift brings with it a whole new, even more intense  slew of challenges. 

Noah is getting ready to go back to school tomorrow, and Zoe will be going back next week, so I find myself in that familiar spot of needing to adapt once again, to get back into a routine, and to dig my heels in and think about how I'm going to spend my time and energy... 

I have decided that it's not yet time to plan a yearlong wild woman circle for next year, with so much uncertainty regarding my treatments. The reality check of what's to come at my last doctor appointment made me realize that it's just too much to add on to my plate at the moment...  that I must ease back into my work slowly, and only when I know I'm ready. This has led to a hefty amount of grief in and of itself. 

When I decided to take this year off, it was clearly a yearlong healing sabbatical.  Now that I've realized that it's necessary to extend that further, I have moments of wondering if life will ever be normal again... However, this painting I did this weekend reminds me of how it sometimes feels to move with change... it can feel pretty bumpy and scary, like riding bare-back, and we find ourselves clinging to that mane for dear life... but once we surrender to the rhythm of the horse, it can be so very freeing.... 

In those moments of surrender, I put together a packet of submissions for the 2017 We Moon Calendar... I've opened up a new Etsy account where I hope to eventually sell prints of my work... I've thought about starting a local lyme/ chronic illness support group....  I've signed up and started to explore MeWe, a new social networking site that seems more intimate and authentic, as I contemplate the need to rebuild a tribe for myself... 

Because the fact is, things will just keep on moving, no matter how hard I cling to "normal"...  and so it's time to create a new legend for myself. 

a slice of the journey

"Self-Discovery" by Rita Loyd....  www.nurturingart.com

Week 2 of Round 2 of Phase 2...  that's gotta be good luck, right?

I had my doctor appointment on Monday...  a time to check in, introduce my doc to my parents who were visiting, and plan out the next several weeks of treatment. Aside from intense fatigue and some slightly elevated liver enzymes, I'm doing pretty well. Although I will admit, if I had written this morning, it may have been a completely different story, as I had a particularly hard time taking my meds today. Thankfully last week, I was able to switch from the Mepron (the nasty bright yellow sludge) to a similar medication in pill form, which is soooooo much easier to take. But I'm still finding that when it comes time to take everything, my body is starting to rebel....  I get nauseous before I even swallow a thing! I hem and I haw, which makes it worse. Every part of me wants to resist. I'll need to find a way to push past this, as I'm told it's only going to get worse as time goes on.

After next week, I'll have two more rounds of this phase...  we'll be adding some things, so they'll likely be a bit more intense. And then after that, as long as I'm still doing well, it'll be time for the REALLY BIG guns. My doc is very honest with me when she says it will be brutal. I'm feeling nervous about it, but really all I can do is come back to right now and not get wrapped up in what's to come.

And truthfully, right now is hard enough. It's a constant challenge to stay in a positive space. I find myself back in that place of feeling like my visions have been all fogged up and muddled...  that my work and the business I created from scratch is no more...  that I have no direction...  that aside from my familiy and my doctor, my support system is waning. Deena worries that I'm depressed....  I prefer to think of it as uncovering another deep well of grief. But I know for certain that beneath it all, even when I'm weeping and feeling sorry for myself, that those things are not gone forever... I know that they're simply peeling away so that I can return to the bare bones of who I am.

Things are about to change once again... Deena and Noah will be going to Indiana for a few days this weekend, and then school will start up next week. I both welcome and dread it. I welcome the time alone to get back to some regular writing and art-making, and the flexibility to rest when my body demands it...  and I dread missing them and feeling swallowed up by an empty house, and figuring out the whole school pick-up thing all over again.  I welcome a sense of routine...  and I dread not being able to sleep in if I feel like sleeping in, and the magical spontaneousness of summertime. I welcome the space to allow my body to speak to me and say no to things that are not conducive to healing... and I dread feeling the pressure and angst when I have no choice other than to pull myself together even when I feel like doo doo.

In the meantime, Zoe and I have plans for music-making and art-making and mushy-movie watching and toenail-painting while we have the house all to ourselves this weekend. And I will try not to be a worry-wort...  but please, if you can spare some easy and safe traveling vibes for Deena and Noah, I would be most appreciative.

belonging

Round 2 of attacking Babesia has begun! This is the hardest it's been so far, going back on meds after a week off. There's been a lot at play this last week or two--  a sick kitty, summer heat, and my hormones have been out of whack, which isn't helping me feel any better.  Toward the end of my week off, that old familiar fatigue began to creep back in, and then after resuming all of my meds yesterday, the fatigue increased tenfold, my joints hurt, my head ached, and I have been once again bombarded with a mild yet persistant nausea. Thankfully, today is better, but I definitely sense the need for a nap!

Honestly though, I find my biggest challenge this week is allowing myself to be REAL from one moment to the next, which inevitably means moving through a lot of emotions.  Like this morning. The cat puked, and I started to clean it up, and my legs were too weak to squat down. So I had to sit down on the floor to clean it up, and then my shoulders and elbows hurt so bad I had a hard time getting up again. I burst into tears, like a toddler whose lollipop just fell into a pile of dirt. There are moments that I still can't wrap my mind around all of this. It's all too humbling when basic things like getting up off the floor turn so darn complex. I so easily forget that the pain waxes and wanes, and that this too shall pass, and instead, I just crumble.

Of course it runs deeper than the physical limitations...  I've noticed lately that it seems like this summer has been all about revisiting distant parts of myself that I miss. Taking the kids to camp a few weeks ago made me want to hike up to the bald or down to the pond...  things I just couldn't do. Noah and his crazy love for running brings back running memories of my own while training for the triathlon, juxtaposed with how my hip cramps up now just taking the dog for a short walk. And this week, Zoe and her Granddaddy are at the Swannanoa Gathering making all sorts of musical mischief, and I find myself longing for an escape like that, where I can forget about this disease for a week or two, and just collapse into a community of people who share a profound connection around their love of chords and picks and strums and open tunings. They both talk about me joining them next year, and I begin to wonder if I'll be better by then....  for now, my guitar hangs lonely on the wall because my hands are too tired and sore to play, and the mere thought of trying to get around in a place like that and being around that many people exhausts me.

At the same time,  I watch my Dad, whose knee is really bothering him, hobbling around like a champ. He is a stubborn cuss, who probably should rest and take it easy more, but I also feel a desire to be more like him...  to push past the pain and fatigue and stubbornly do what I want to set out to do. Last night, he and Zoe came here for dinner after a long day of music-making...  and all I had the energy for was throwing together boxed gluten free macaroni and cheese and frozen vegetables.  I just felt so wimpy and inadequate...  and yet, cooking something more was just simply not in the cards.

So when I say I'm struggling with allowing myself to be REAL, it's about navigating my way through  and accepting what I am and am not capable of right now. Again.  Haven't I been there done this before, gosh darnit? It's about being honest with myself around how much I can handle, which is different from one day to the next. It's about offering to others what I can rather than what I really want to offer.

It's also about owning my story as it unfolds, and allowing others to have their own stories too...  something I touched on a bit last week. But for the sake of being truly honest, I've noticed pieces of myself I don't like to admit are there....  like the one that feels jealous or resentful or even angry when I hear of someone treating their illness a different way and they're doing just hunky dory... and like the one that, when I'm having a good day, misses the attention and sympathy I receive when I feel crummy and thus somehow remains a victim, rather than reclaiming her power. I know these things are human, and fogged up and intensified by being in the muck at the moment, but they only lead me to doubting my path and the landscape of my own emotions and feeling like a needy, bitter ole woman. Sigh.

We (I) forget just how much self-forgiveness and being gentle with ourselves plays a role in healing.  We (I) forget that healing is like the peeling of an onion...  and that it goes much deeper than the medicines we choose to take, and that just when we think we've got one part licked, it comes back and presents itself as some sort of cosmic do-over.  We (I) forget just how strong we are when we're embedded in the muck. We (I) forget that even when it feels like we're idle, directionless, stuck, weak, that we're really moving right along, moving forward, toward feeling better and belonging to our lives once again. 
 
Belonging.  That words just feels so ripe for me right now. I want to belong to my life again. I want to belong to something larger than this disease. I want to belong to the creative energy of a tribe. I want to belong to my own ever-changing visions. But perhaps part of healing is shedding down all of the layers, like a snake, until we're completely naked of who we thought we once were...  so that we can truly belong to who we are right now.  Not a "comfortable" process by any means, but oh-so-neccessary. And if we squint a little bit and look at it in just the right light, it can even be exciting.

See?  Even in the muck, there are bursts of clarity.

This week's protocol:
M, W, F: Ceftin, Septra, Mepron, Artemisinin, & Enula   

greeting adversity with love

(by artist Leah Pearlman of Dharma Comics)

Just a few moments ago, I looked up from my desk and right outside my window, there was deer standing there looking at me. Being me, I immediately grabbed my Power Animal book, and re-familiarized myself with deer medicine...  

Deer is all about gentleness and love and grace and instinct and protection. All things that are really big for me right now. 

While enjoying a week off of meds and the added physical challenges that come with that, the emotional/mental/spiritual side of things have had the extra space to arise...  I've been trying to take every opportunity to greet adversity with love, and admittedly, this isn't always easy for me.  I'm needier these days than I feel comfortable being, quite frankly. And so adversity feels scarier, and I'm finding myself having to really put forth the effort on many levels to open myself to it, to witness it, to be with it....  with as much love as I can muster. 

In two weeks my honey is going to go to Indiana to visit her family. It simply can't be put off any longer. Her folks are getting on in age and have health issues, and I know to Deena, it feels like there's a bit of urgency in mending some tears in the family fabric. We hadn't been in quite a while due to a family squabble that happened four years ago with her sisters that was never resolved and never really spoken about since.  Deena and her sisters are fine now...  maybe what I've always assumed was their tendency to sweep things under the rug is really a stubborn resilience born from the willingness to let go, which is something I could perhaps use a little more of...  but who knows, and at this point, does it really matter? We are all just doing the best we can. 

So Deena is going without me, not because of the squabble, but because I am simply not well enough to make such a quick trip, as we don't have the time off or funds to make this a longer, more relaxed visit. And I also can't risk adding more stress to my body right now. And riding in the car while taking Mepron?  Uh, no.  It causes me to have motion sickness up the wazoo.

So in two weeks, she and Noah will load up a rental car, drive eight hours on a Friday, spend the weekend with her family, and then head back the following Monday. Bing, bang, boom, just like that. This has me feeling a bit more insecure than usual. It's loaded with my own sadness leftover from feeling scorned and judged by the sisters, and a continued lack of closure for me around all that... tripled by my fear of her leaving during a week that I'm treating and possibly feeling like crap... made even more intense by my worry about her driving all that way without help, not fully rested because she will no doubt be working extra hours before and after to make up for the time off... and topped off with the fact that this is going to put a dent in our finances, since her boss is unwilling to give her any more vacation time.    

Sigh. 

But sometimes you just have to do what you have to do, no matter how much anxiety comes up around it. I've gotten quite familiar with that these last months. And sometimes I'm not very good at it. Sometimes I just want to throw a tantrum. Sometimes I want to just bury myself under the covers, or escape into stupid (un)reality shows on Netflix and Hulu. And sometimes I want to keep my family home, safely tucked inside our house where lyme-carrying ticks and bears and grumpy people can't get to us...  

Just now, my eyes widened out of pure surprise at the fact that seeing that deer today didn't immediately trigger a hyper-paranoia around deer ticks!  I think that's an excellent sign, don't you? In fact, the deer that visited me today instead reminded me to face adversity with a gentle grace. With a humbleness and quiet and unconditional love that opens me and those around me, rather than shuts us all down, isolates us, or gives us the illusion of feeling safe and protected. 

So in two weeks, I will envision a light wrapped around Deena and Noah I wave them off with a smile that hides my tears...  and maybe I'll even make cookies or something to send on to the sisters. And Zoe will stay home with me. There will no doubt be take-out and naps and nail polish and a mushy movie marathon if anyone is interested in joining us. 

knocking on wood

This week has been all about knocking on wood. That comes with feeling good. Especially given the high doses of meds I am taking at the moment...  septra, ceftin, mepron, artemisinin, enula, and flagyl. I expected this week to be harder than last week...  but instead, I haven't had to take anti-nausea meds at all, I've been walking almost daily without trouble, and the other night, I even made a REAL dinner...  homemade chicken fingers and green beans. I think my kids have grown way too accustomed to frozen pizza and macaroni and cheese, as they were far less enthused by dinner than I was. Oh well. Until today, my only complaint has been that the thick bright yellow sludge they call Mepron haunts me...  its horrid taste seems to serve as a subtle backdrop to every other flavor all. the. time. Ginger chews mask it for a few moments until it seeps back onto my taste buds. And when I sweat or go to the bathroom, I smell it...  a chemical-y, plastic-y essence that hangs on everything. Blech.

Today, I'm feeling a bit more tender. Could be that I'm pms-y, or it could be that I didn't sleep well last night, or it could be that I've been overdoing a bit, or it could be just all those foreign things in my body having a cumulative effect. I also suspect that part of it is that my hands have been quite happily full since the kiddos came home from camp, and I haven't had a lot of creative down time. My knees hurt, I'm extra tired and sensitive, my brain is foggy, and I feel a little queasy this morning...  I have a feeling it will be a slow and gentle day. Part of me wonders if I should be pounding the wood instead of simply knocking on it!

Get this....  I found out over last week that my mother has Lyme, according to her acupuncturist, who discovered it via bio energetic testing (I really don't anything about this kind of testing, but Deena's boss's wife swears by it).  Honestly, I've had such a strange mix of emotions since hearing this.  I truly wouldn't wish this disease on my worst enemy...  so it's a bit heartbreaking that my own mother has to deal with it.  Not only that, but while she has begun treatment, it's a very different path than I am taking, using a natural, homeopathic approach.  And once again, I am finding myself needing to remember what I used to tell the Wild Women...  that it doesn't benefit anyone to compare our experiences with those of others... that we must fully inhabit our own choices without regret or apology, and trust that we're doing what's best for ourselves...  and here's the key...  we must allow others to do the same, without any assumptions that our way is any better or worse.

Here's the thing. I've never been the type to fall for prescription medicines. I've always been the hippie dippie,  all-natural chick. And the truth is, that hasn't changed all that much, which sounds funny coming from someone who is taking so many antibiotics at the moment. It's a strange and complicated paradox. It is in this way that my doctor is like a soul sister to me. She's an integrative physician's assistant who always took the natural, herbal route, and then happened to stumble upon her own ten-year battle with Lyme and was treated and brought into remission with a combination of antibiotics and herbs. So of course, that's her way of treating.  That's what she's familiar with and knowledgeable about, and she readily admits her bias while not discounting other ways. When I discovered her, it just felt right. It felt like I was in the best hands possible, and I wouldn't trade her ongoing support and guidance for anything right now.

The whole chronic lyme debate permeates the medical industry, making diagnosis and treatment next to impossible for many, and we are very lucky when we find someone who is able and willing to help us, even though our LLMDs and acupuncturists and naturopaths are often thought of as quacks by mainstream doctors.  Not only that, but even within the Lyme community itself, there are SO MANY different treatment protocols, and folks can be rather opinionated about them.  What it comes down to though is that we're all desperate for a cure, and the truth is, no cure has been discovered as of yet... even the top Lyme specialists are baffled by various aspects of the disease, and many are not supported or encouraged in their desire to learn more.

And of course, we all have different bodies that respond to different things.  Much like the ongoing argument about whether it's best to eat vegetarian or paleo, there is no one-size-fits-all way to go about this. One person's remedy is another person's poison...  perhaps that's a stretch, but the point is, we have to honor our differences.  We're all just trudging along doing the best we can, half-blind.  We need to accept that, not only for ourselves, but for others, and begin to build bridges within our stories.

I've realized that all in all, this is all forcing me to be deeply present and steadfast within my truth-- to honor my way, not as right or wrong, but merely as my path for now. And while I may knock (or pound) on wood from time to time, I will keep on trusting that my choices will lead this body to healing.