I remember many years ago telling a client of mine that when she recovers from the chronic illness she was navigating, she would gain an awareness of how precious everything truly is because she was aware of just how bad it can get.
That her life would be so much sweeter than everyone else's because of the difficult road she walked to get there.
The gift of healing - beyond healing itself - is perspective and gratitude.
Throughout my own journey, I clung to those words, knowing how true they became for her.
I constantly reminded myself that it was going to get better, and once it was better, it would be something I was so immensely grateful for because I truly understood the privilege of life.
But over the last few months, I've cursed myself for ever having uttered those words - for ever even thinking of them.
I had abandoned hope.
For the last year and a half, I've endured what we called “brain zaps”. Brain zaps are a result of inflammation caused by viruses and other issues.
For me, they are more like mini seizures, where my brain would feel like it was swelling up beyond the capacity of my skull, and then get electrocuted. Over and over, in nearly every waking moment.
And then bloodwork taken right before the holidays showed that I was in Stage 3 kidney failure.
I've been working to heal from Lyme Disease for a year and a half, have spent tens of thousands of dollars, lost my sense of self and safety, closed my business, and became financially dependent on my parents so I could focus all my energy on getting healthy again…and things were continuing to break down.
But I wouldn't be writing this if that's how my story ended.
My story is now one of a breakthrough, where a single discovery changed everything.
This is all still very new information, and it's very tender.
But along the way, I've learned that part of healing is believing you can and will heal.
And that the first and most important thing you can do is shed the identity of “sick person”.
So even though I don't yet fully trust that this is happening, I'm going to shout it from the mountaintops.
The brain zaps are slowly disappearing.
And my kidneys are no longer failing.
Because this incredibly debilitating symptom and possibly life threatening organ failure of mine weren't caused by Lyme disease.
They were side effects of a baby dose of a pharmaceutical drug that I had been prescribed to help me manage some of the emotional fallout of succumbing to a chronic illness.
The only western intervention I pursued throughout this entire ordeal was keeping me incredibly ill.
And I only discovered it because I forgot to refill my prescription.
I am feeling all of the feelings right now: rage, relief, confusion, betrayal, clarity, elation, excitement, terror, disbelief, grief, impatience, resistance, numbness, anxiety, etc.
My heart wants to rush back to the living and be completely well and active again, but everything else is still telling me to go slow, and be very gentle.
With every step forward, I am reminded that I found myself in this place because I pushed when I should have relaxed. I doubled down when I should have rested.
I know my biggest challenge (and a big part of managing chronic Lyme) will be reconstructing my nervous system from the ground up.
My work is to re-template my life, not simply fall back into the old one.
I think it's important to remember that true healing requires time, and permission to receive grace, support and love.
I don't know what I am capable of yet, how quickly I will regain full functionality or confidence, what that will look like, or what I even want to do or be when I finally have my life back.
But I do know that I won't waste any of it, and somehow I will discern the lessons of this experience and interweave them into every fiber of every thread that is the tapestry of my life.
My words to my client - of how one day she'll understand why this all happened, and that it will make everything else have more beauty and meaning than she ever imagined - are starting to sound and feel more like an answered prayer than a curse.
Thank you for being a part of my journey so far. For still being here, even though I haven't really been here for a year and a half.
I don't know what comes next, but I know it will be better than I ever imagined possible.
And I hope to share it in a way that adds value and inspiration and the potential for healing to your life.