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“These are a few of my favourite things…”

Posted on by a rainbow at night
English: Sunflowers in Fargo, North Dakota. Es...

Sunflowers in Fargo, North Dakota

I have definitely been doing a lot of LIVING the past several months. I’d call all of my New Year resolution goals a success so far, with the exception of writing in my daily journal which I did for a month then found redundant, so I let it go. I’ve been enjoying a monthly audiobook, I’ve continued my studies in French, I’ve been leaving the house with NO intentions of anything health-related–movies, performances, cafés–and delved into my art, photography, writing…

“Venture out, jump in, and be a part of this great and fascinating universe in which you find yourself.”
“On this day, in this place, as you are, with what you have, let go of the fears, worries and doubts, and richly, joyfully live.” (Ralph Marston)

You know in those fiction novels, or even some movies, where the character randomly starts naming all these things they like, usually as a description of who they are…? Or sometimes, depending on the level of the story, it’s about personal reflection. Well I’ve been doing that, lately. In “real life.”

“There are many amazing things you will discover, and their only value is whatever is realized in the moment you find them.” (Matt Kahn)

Like, I think sunflowers are amazing. And I really like jellyfish. And leafy seadragons. And cake, and chickadee songs, and floral prints and vanilla-flavoured beverages…

It feels kind of invigorating, to think that even now, I’m still.. becoming something. I’m still becoming.

♥ a rainbow at night

A Dose of Reality

Posted on by a rainbow at night
First off, a huge thank you to those who have expressed their support and gratitude of my recent writing… I was not expecting it. I have read your words and I want to reply as soon as I can. Right now I feel an update of sorts is in order. Forgive me while I use my spoons for expression, but know that I am actively awaiting the right words to respond to the support you have offered in my direction. :) You help me feel less alone, and on weekends like this one, I really need that…

At the beginning of May I wanted a mini-celebration of the fact that I’ve been off treatment six months and I am still walking okay. So what better a way to affirm my functioning feet than with new shoes!

K9 by Rocket Dog® Odetta Floral-Print Ankle-Strap Pumps, $30

K9 by Rocket Dog® Odetta Floral-Print Ankle-Strap Pumps, $30

This event was right before my monthly bug-flare, which still happens around the beginning of the month. I forgot about it this time, so it wasn’t until day three of being in bed that I realized why all these symptoms were happening.

I effectively went from walking “normally” in new shoes and eating at my favourite foodie joint, to being in bed four days, excessively sleeping through over half of it, and having seizure-like activity again.

Yesterday, I felt as if every inch of me was buzzing, vibrating from the inside-out. I tried to wash my face with sunscreen, use toilet paper as moisturizer, pour my milk into a sauce bowl instead of a cup, and made accidental purchases online. I found myself standing in places I didn’t have any memory of walking. Yes, I remember all of these symptoms.

But still it helps to know why it’s happening. Not only that, but I’ve noticed I’m typically worse on weekends, again…an ominous sign from my bartonella days, but a fact nonetheless.

 

My ego said, I would rather all this NOT occur immediately after I finish celebrating how relatively well I’m functioning after six months with no antibiotics! Why did you have to remind me, right now? Maybe I wanted to forget for a little while, just how much my body is going through, just how sick it is…

Another part of me is saddened at the reminder.

The other part of me, is thankful for it, that I don’t float away into denial, and hopes that I won’t also sink into despair…at least not for too long.

See, I go through the same emotions as everyone else. I don’t ever want to seem like I don’t. I don’t ever want to seem like the decisions I’ve made or the way I live is something unattainable.

 

I’ve been relatively doing so-so. I never imagined stopping treatment would have given me so much of these months back, these months that I would have otherwise spent in misery with no real benefit except more worsening. Instead, I have more good days right now, I’m determined to use them fully, and I can be mostly comfortable.

Symptom-wise, this has developed:

  • I consistently see the squiggles, black dots, and smoke-fog illusions in my vision.
  • My hands go numb more often, and various irritated nerves cause intermittent curling of my fingers.
  • There is more numbness in my feet, and more of the old “fire foot” sensation.
  • I have more heart palpitations and trouble staying hydrated.
  • My left leg buckles more frequently.
  • I get more spasms in my back.
  • I get choked more easily.

I recently returned from two ER visits with a random virus…and just like after my last viral attack in December/January, my vasculitis is temporarily on hiatus. So for now I’ve been able to stop the daily ibuprofen which was keeping it in check, which I like, and yet this has resulted in more trigeminal neuralgia episodes and eye pain.

While the shot I had to attempt treating the occipital neuralgia didn’t go as intended–giving me odd side effects like falling backwards and an inability to recognize myself in the mirror, I suspect because of the brain lesion(s?)–it DID interrupt those signals, so it’s not as constant as it once was. There are still so many other types of pain, which was depressing to realize, but that one is better. Being on only half the pain medication that I was on before, this has unmasked many of the neuropathy symptoms I didn’t know were developing.

My favourite bit of news is that, I found out if I cover myself in sunscreen before being exposed to sunlight, the vasculitis doesn’t flare up. :) And as of my most recent echocardiogram, my heart function hasn’t worsened, so they don’t want to see me for another 18 months!

 

I’ve noticed I try to leave you all with something that’s helped me, recently. This time I offer you something for your friends and loved ones, and possibly as justification for your feelings, as well: The book, How to Be a Friend to a Friend Who’s Sick by Letty Cottin Pogrebin. It was mentioned on Facebook by the lovely Toni Bernhard, whose book How To Be Sick: A Buddhist-Inspired Guide for the Chronically Ill and Their Caregivers changed my life a couple of years back. Both of these are also available on Kindle and Audible, so pick your best function!

♥ a rainbow at night

 

Some amazing wooden roses from a friend. :)
Someone carved this into an old table at a coffee house. Beautitful. <3
My neighbor gave me an Easter lily from her garden.

The Call to Stop Treating and Start Living

Posted on by a rainbow at night

Since making my decision, I’ve continued to be pulled in this direction, even when it scares me to think of where it might ultimately lead. So much has showed up in my life to gently guide my realization into, “It’s okay,” and I’m entering a place where I truly believe that. Otherwise, there’s no way I could have any peace at all with what I’m doing.

My family supports me, as do my closest friends. Others are unable to talk about it, which I understand for now. The latest recurrent theme popping up in my life (we’ll call them, Intuitive Affirmations from the Universe) is how much better a lot of people do after their decision to live life instead of treat disease. My most recent encounter was with a woman buying something from me. Out of no where she mentioned her father and uncle who both had cancer, and how her father only made it a year after choosing to attempt treatment, while her uncle made it two and a half after he chose to not.

And of COURSE that’s not always how it works, and people are allowed to choose whatever they think will bring them the best life and most happiness. And yet this is the story the universe brought to me, and it’s been doing that a lot, lately. I’ve also been confronted repeatedly with people in our spoonie community who have passed on, not from their disease, but from their attempts to cure it. Every time, I feel the calling in my soul that this is not how I want to go. I’ve said repeatedly that I do not want to be one of those “die trying” people. That still holds true.

All this helps reaffirm to me that I really am going to face the best outcome by doing things this way. That this way, I will have some enjoyment in life and get the most out of what life has to offer.

 

I mentioned before that my darkest hour was when I felt like I had to make the decision the Universe approved of, lest I be abandoned by all things good (brainwashed much?), but perhaps that wasn’t entirely accurate. I did think about suicide a lot.

It was worrisome because I’d only ever thought of it when I first got myalgic encephalomyelitis. But I don’t want to harm myself in any way! I love myself and I love my body even if it struggles to be a fully functioning body. After much introspection, it came down to me actually just wanting to be relinquished from the decision of what to do, so I wouldn’t have to feel the agony of “what if I screw up.” Again, in hindsight, I can see why I thought that. If, in my state of mind, my options were to make a decision that would leave me miserable (treating disease again), or choose what I felt to be right (not treating) but that I was also convinced would leave me abandoned… It’s in these moments I have compassion for myself having had to sort through all that.

And I did make it through.

 

Toward the end of it, I sat and wondered if I would regret my choice to not go into “treatment mode,” having knowledge these gene mutations exists, and having knowledge of what untreated systemic infections can and will do. Would I blame myself in the future, for not taking action right now to “fix” it? There’s only a tiny possibility it could make things better, temporarily, but it’s just another way to prolong the inevitable.

The loss of life that I would experience trying to keep up with everything involved in “fixing” this, is not worth any benefit I might gain in health, later on.

I do not want that for myself anymore.

My body has a lot of disease, and I cannot devote my precious resources into planning doctor visits; going to doctor visits; finding more doctors based on test results; researching what supplements to take and how to take them; VALIDATING what my doctors tell me through my own research because I’m sorry, they just haven’t proven themselves to be competent…

In a personal post I wrote the other day, I described this as using all my energy to prolong my life, just so I could continue on with the task of prolonging my life. Where is the actual living? I wouldn’t have time or energy to do both, and I cannot, cannot, cannot put my life on hold anymore.

Some people would be driven mad if they didn’t go into treatment mode. I was like that for, what, almost thirteen years? Now, I would be driven mad if I did. Enough is enough. A season for all things, and whatnot. (All seasons are beautiful and necessary…)

 

These are the most personal words I’ve ever written, the most personal things I’ve ever shared. And I share them in hopes that someone out there will benefit from it. I don’t personally know of anyone else choosing this path in response to my particular “set” of diseases, so if you happen to know of someone, please send them in my direction.

As I often do, I leave you with a quote from Ralph Marston:

“You have nothing to prove and everything to be. What matters is the truth of who you are, not the way you appear to others.

Give the honest truth of yourself, and you have no reason to strive or worry about making a good impression. Give the authentic truth of yourself, for it is the most loving, compassionate, uplifting and enabling thing you can do.

You do not have to strive against your own thoughts of limitation. Allow your unique beauty to continually unfold, and experience the power of how good and right it feels.

You do not have to be held captive by the thoughts or actions of others, or even by your perceptions of those thoughts and actions. You can allow yourself to be, positive and whole and fulfilled, now and always.

You have everything to be. Feel the miracle of your existence, and fill the world with joy.”

♥ a rainbow at night

 

Third row at the orchestra
It’s nice to notice beautiful things while you’re just lying down
Symmetry in a coffee house

The Choice of Someone with Progressive Disease to Stop Treatment

Posted on by a rainbow at night

I did not arrive at my decision lightly. I experienced… Ah, I experienced a lot. The Caring Connections organization put together a great example list of the emotions involved in living with serious illness:

“Emotional changes that you may experience include:

  • Fear – about what will happen as your illness progresses, or about the future for your loved ones
  • Anger – about past treatment choices, about the change in diagnosis
  • Grief – about the losses that you have had and those to come
  • Anxiety – about making new decisions and facing new realities
  • Disbelief – about the changes that will be taking place
  • Relief – about ending difficult treatments and setting new goals for care”

They also have a list of various myths, truths, and things to remember, such as:

“Myth: Accepting that this illness cannot be cured means that “nothing more can be done.”
Truth: When the focus shifts from cure to care, a great deal can be done to relieve physical pain and emotional suffering, and to ensure a good quality of life.
Remember: Have conversations with your loved ones about what you do and do not want. Designate a healthcare agent to speak for you in the event that you can no longer speak for yourself.”

 

I can talk about this more clearly and rationally now, after several weeks of living with my decision, but like I wrote earlier: It was anything but easy. I experienced extreme guilt for not wanting to get treatment.

Since I don’t believe in coincidence, it was difficult to figure out whether I’d learnt of the MTHFR gene mutation to get it treated so I could get back on Lyme treatment (but I thought of this more out of habit than any true desire or intuiton), or to just be more aware of how I could help my body… I was living too much in the trying to find the Lesson and not enough in the living the Experience (which ultimately gives you the lesson). I heard something like that during Oprah’s Super Soul Sunday several weeks ago.

I knew I’d lose my mind if I tried to do “the Lyme fight” again. (I’m 99% sure I’d lose my mind if I fought my own body at all, at this point, to be honest.)

 

So I didn’t know what I was “supposed” to do. I knew what I wanted, but I felt guilty for wanting it. Probably as a remnant from my more religious upbringing, I actually felt like God would be angry with me for my decision. I automatically felt like choosing to live without fighting disease, would be choosing to die, so how could The Universe possibly support me in that? I felt like I couldn’t trust myself anymore.

But that same day, the guest on Super Soul Sunday started talking about God’s Love, and it really brought me back to my core beliefs… The Universe bringing me back to Itself, surely.

It reminded me that I am not being judged. That God–whether a He, She, It, The Universe, whatever that Source may be–does NOT hold anger or negativity toward me for my decisions, that those feelings come from my interpretation and not reality. It reminded me that I could NEVER be a disappointment, and the most important of all: That there is nothing but Love and Acceptance for me; Love and Acceptance for What Is; Love and Acceptance for what I decide…

As a recovering codependent, I had to realize The God Force I believe in is not like so many humans I have known, who bestow their version of love based upon how much what I do agrees with their opinion.

 

Probably the craziest part of it, was that in my darkest, anxiety-ridden moment, I felt like if I made the “wrong” decision then all my suffering would be my fault and I would deserve to be punished and abandoned, for not being in alignment with God’s will. Oh, thank you, gene abnormality, for helping me bring all of this to the surface and release it. Those old brainwashed ways of thinking are NOT who I am!

I was so focused on “What if I make the wrong decision?” that I wasn’t able to stop panicking long enough to figure out from where my suffering was arising. And I was so absorbed in assuming my thoughts were a form of escapism–I must be running from my fear of going to a new doctor, I must be terrified of the new treatments not working, I must be running from the reality of another health problem–that I completely neglected the idea that turned out to be the real problem:

I was actually running from the fear of not treating, and what would happen when I did that.

Treating felt too wrong to possibly be right. But choosing to forego it is something I’ve never done. I can see now, in hindsight, this discovery WAS the lesson in itself. It wasn’t a lesson in what to do. It was a lesson in how to Not do, something I’ve never known how to.. well, do.

I had no idea how much courage it takes to let go. To be continued…

 

♥ a rainbow at night

 

Quote by David Bate. A watercolour painting I’ve been working on for a couple of months. :)
The simplicity of this one just gets to me. I’m not sure anyone else likes it, but this is probably one of my favourite photos I’ve taken.
Who’d expect this photo opportunity to turn up outside a fast-food restaurant?

Trying to cure myself Was all I knew how to do

Posted on by a rainbow at night
Earlier this month I found out I had another new diagnosis, another piece to my chronic illness puzzle.
I found a doctor with experience in the area, and spent three weeks gathering the past 18 months of my medical records and filling out their extensive forms.
And this afternoon, I shredded all of it.

 

I found out I do, indeed, have the MTHFR gene mutation. Two of them, two copies of the C677T mutation, or MTHFR 677 TT, put another way (homozygous). This is not the worst case scenario, which would be one C677T and one A1298C mutation. What it does mean–as far as I can tell–is that while people with only one copy of the C677T mutation might have mild problems or generally do just fine, people with two copies are at a higher risk for the associated diseases. And it’s a reason why I cannot detox properly.

At the biological level, it means my body has trouble converting ordinary folic acid–a form of Folate/B9–into a form that I can use. And because properly converting folic acid to use, is what allows you to properly convert B12 to use, I have trouble there, too. (Or at least, I’m supposed to…) Because my genetic mutations cause my body to be less efficient, I don’t make enough methylfolate. You need methylfolate to use folic acid, and you also need methylfolate to use B12 (that is, to convert regular-cyanocobalamin-B12 from various sources, into the useable-methylcobalamin-B12).

 

Depending upon how much you randomly know, you may have noticed that says I cannot convert the forms of Folate and B12 that are in everything: Folic acid and Cyanocobalamin. They’re in everything because people are supposed to be able to convert them and use them. But I can’t do that very well, so if I consume things that have these, such as in vitamins or enriched foods, I am going to have a build-up of these unusable-to-me forms of vitamins, while never getting adequate amounts of the ones I can use.

This is why taking a multivitamins makes me sick. Even when I was taking my B-complex, I always had to chop them into pieces and only take them a few times per week to avoid sickness. Now, FINALLY, I know why this happens!!

All of this is supposed to mean I should have elevated levels of some things and low levels of various other things floating around because I can’t convert them properly… And these excess levels can cause all sorts of problems. But, according to my recent bloodwork–particularly the homocysteine–everything is within normal limits. It’s kind of astonishing, really.

To say I’m appreciative of my body finding ways around this, and making me crave food that would give me what I need, is an understatement. Go body, go! I will help you.

 

You know what medication makes this worse? Bactrim. This probably helps explain why my liver was fine until I needed Bactrim to finish killing off the bartonella infection. Should I need it again in the future, I will know to take milk thistle or something similar, to offset the effects, BEFORE my body gets too stressed…

And that’s pretty much how I’m going to approach this entire thing. I’m going to learn about it slowly and do what I can do offset the effects–symptom management, palliative care–and let my body continue doing what it can for as long as it can. I may do further research into mild supplementation, but mainly, my outlook is that this is another quirk I get the OPPORTUNITY to manage. Of course I reserve the right to change my mind at any time, but:

I am not going to go into “treatment mode.”

 

And it took several weeks of lamentation for me to really understand I had that choice, and that it wouldn’t be the same as suicide. As one person put it,

“The media constantly bangs on about how to live. . . They tell you how to preserve your body surgically and chemically so you look younger, slimmer, healthier. Why? Nature is perfect in herself. Every season is beautiful.“

To be suicidal is to want to die and take actions to facilitate it. But I want to live. It just so happens that humans are subject to disease and death, and if I continue on the path which I have for the past almost-thirteen years, I will not be able to enjoy my life, the only one I have. I am going through a whirlwind of emotions with this, and if you think you’re able, you can take the ride with me.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared, or happy, in my entire life. To be continued…

♥ a rainbow at night

 

PostScript: I’ve been doing a lot of photography lately in honour of Jeremiah Katches‘ passing, so I’ll be posting some of my pictures at the bottom of my posts. This may be a temporary thing or ongoing (much like life, really), but here you go:

What My Pain is Actually Like

Posted on by a rainbow at night

It occurred to me one day several months ago that I’ve never stopped to answer a question people may have, the same question I often wonder about others in my situation: When I talk about being in pain, what am I actually talking about?

In my case I’m talking about severe head pain, and what some call “malaise,” but… Malaise is what you call it when you are sick and you feel “off,” and unwell, and basically.. gross. It’s a term you can use for having a cold or AIDS, much like a fever has drastically varying levels of severity.

In “malaise” standards, what I feel is like my immune system is fighting to save my life but it may or may not actually take me down with it. Pain is usually localized, or at least, if it’s everywhere, it’s an identifiable ache. This? Maybe I should invent a new term.

Deathlymalaise. Yeah that sounds about right.

What happens in my newly coined “deathlymalaise” (feel free to use that), is this:

  1. I always have “the” headache with it, the one I’ll discuss in a moment.
  2. I have a low-grade fever, and I alternate rapidly–or maybe there is only the sensation of rapid cycling–between uncomfortably warm and sweaty, and clammy, cold, with freezing and numb extremities. It’s like when you have the flu and every five minutes you’re either tossing the blankets across the room or clambering to collect anything made of fabric and burrito yourself in it. My GP says this is my immune system. Apparently it’s trying to figure out what to do with itself.
  3. I feel dizzy and there is often a “buzzing” sensation, but whether it’s nerves sending wrong signals or my vascular system trying to sustain normal circulation, is anyone’s guess.
  4. My lymph nodes, particularly the axillary and cervical nodes (under your arms, and around your neck), have a constant, dull ache, and get stabbing sensations.
  5. I get muscle spasms in my neck, back, and all around my abdomen in general, that are so sudden and severe I usually end up screaming.
  6. I feel a burning sensation in the nerves in my face, as if they were on fire from the inside-out. I think it comes from the same inflammation responsible for my headache. The trigeminal neuralgia is thus usually activated and I have to stop myself from clawing at my face–that wouldn’t help much, now would it?
  7. I feel as if I’m going to vomit, but I won’t let that happen–I take Zofran as necessary.
  8. My joints–moreso on my left–swell and get stiff, difficult to bend or move.
  9. There is substantial fatigue during these “bursts” of deathlymalaise, but sitting or–more appropriately–lying in one place is usually not an option because this is the kind of suffering that, on the pain scale, would be at the level that it interferes with your every thought.

I’m a complete and utter wreck. And please remember, this list is only covering the malaise part of the illness, something that has been very prominent since The Big Relapse. It’s not medication withdrawal, because these symptoms are part of the reason I started taking anything to begin with, and it’s not herxing. It’s just disease. It makes me uncomfortable to even type that, but it is what it is. I can’t sugarcoat something like this.

I usually feel aghast–but almost in awe–at the reality that a person could possibly feel so horrendous, and helpless at the thought that a hospital–the place you’re raised thinking can always help you during any health crisis–cannot do anything, because there is nothing to stop what’s happening. How do you explain to someone how terrible all that feels, with the word “malaise”?

Several of my friends who also live with Lyme & Company admit to feeling this, and even writing letters or notes to loved ones during the worst “episodes” because they think surely something must be about to go very, very wrong for the human body to give out all these warning signals.

They usually say, “I feel like I’m dying.”

We really do.

 

The progression of my headaches has been a monster all its own. Their onset began with occipital neuralgia four months after my tick bite, almost seven years ago. Bartonella came with its own, mostly frontal-oriented headaches; I don’t have those any more. But almost without fail, I have had a particularly severe headache for 4-5 consecutive days every four weeks since the Lyme invaded my nervous system. Now, that exacerbation happens about every two weeks, thanks to the Mycoplasma.

I used to need prescription-strength medications for breakthrough pain only a few times a year for the attacks of occipital neuralgia. As things steadily progressed (especially within the past two years), I went from needing them an average of 1-3 days per month, to having 3-week-long bouts of unrelenting head paid which alternated with 3-pain-free weeks, seemingly for no reason. Since my relapse in October, I’ve needed them every day except 1-3 days per month. I guess all of this is why needing them so much frightened me: I wondered–and still wonder–if there is no turning back from this point. Regardless…

This head pain is a throbbing sensation at the back of my head, the base of my skull and down into my neck. I wouldn’t outright call it occipital neuralgia, because my attacks of O.N. are even more severe and almost completely untreatable. But otherwise, it’s just like them. Baby neuralgias? They even exhibit the so-called “ram’s horn pattern,” and the top of my head often goes numb, and I am sensitive to anything touching my scalp. There is no sensitivity to sound, but extreme sensitivity to light. I get bursts of nausea. Since vasculitis has been such a major feature of this relapse, these “headaches” may have some vascular component.

As of right now, later this month my pain management doctor wants to try a shot in my neck. I’m uncertain is he intends a nerve block for O.N. or another route, but since this has gone on so long, it’s time to try something new.

 

There’s not really a pretty way to sum this up. But when I talk about being in pain, to all of this is what I refer.

 

♥ a rainbow at night

What all could you do if you just changed your expectations of how to do it?

Posted on by a rainbow at night

My art supplies have been in the largest cabinet of my six-foot-tall dresser since I moved into this house, and even in the old house, they were put away because I was too sick to do anything except extremely sporadic artwork. And I don’t believe in putting a bunch of “supposed to finish” projects out and about; I think it leads to stress. I didn’t need to stare at things that were impossible at the time, reminding me of what I couldn’t do because of the effects of being in treatment, and the limitations imposed by disease. I think the things you need to put in your immediate vision, around your workspace, are the things you’re actually going to work on.

And now it’s time to bring them out.

 

I am going to paint. I am going to convert my desk–which up until now has been used for normal desk activities–into a place for my art supplies. My white writing desk is going in the living room, and I’m bringing in my larger, flatter one to better serve my purposes. And a lamp. And a printer. But I digress…

Most won’t understand the significance of me, someone with OCD, converting their perfectly markless desk into an art station, where it will most certainly become covered in…everything.

Luna got me more watercolours.
Melissa got me more charcoal.
I just re-found my ink.

Things are not going to stay clean.

 

I can’t do art like I used to do. (Or perhaps I could, just once, but having my arms take two months to recover from such an unwise activity is just..dumb.) And you know what? That’s okay. Now I can do different things, perhaps better things. I’ve only recently begun to see the thrill of painting, and I can learn more. I just can no longer expect myself to sit down and complete a project all in one go, like I used to…

And it wasn’t bad that I did things like that. It was what I was capable of at the time. If I had a random hour of being able to sit up then I had to use it wisely and do whatever I could in that hour, because it could be months before I got that chance again. My usual daily limit of being upright was less than 30 minutes per day, which I usually needed to eat and bathe.

Long before that, I would draw for hours at a time, relax with music and my pencils and everything else faded away…

But some days I still may be able to paint for hours, like the day I made this poster for my niece, combining some ideas I saw on Tumblr:

For my niece, so she will have something to remind her that someone thought she was amazing and wonderful.

 

Other days, and probably most days, I can go back and forth between desk and bed–whether it’s a physical desk or my overbed desk–sitting up and painting for short stretches of time, and lying back down while I wait for the paper to dry between layers. (That works out, doesn’t it?) And I’m okay with having to do that.

I’m not going to stop doing things just because I can’t do them the way I used to, or the way I want. The end result is still possible, I just have to achieve it in a different way.
What do you think you could still do if you just changed your expectations of how it “needed” to be done?

 

♥ a rainbow at night

Let’s talk about my New Year’s resolutions.

Posted on by a rainbow at night

There are lots of things I’ve wanted to do, but chose not to in the interest of preserving spoons for a perceived “better time,” which I imagined occurring after treatment when I would feel better/not need to devote my energy solely to physical healing. Buuuuuuuut with the failure of all those treatments and my subsequent new-found sense of Now… Let’s talk about my New Year’s resolutions.

 

I’m going to listen to one audiobook per month since I can finally afford an Audible subscription.

Truly, “serendipity” doesn’t even begin to describe what the Universe has effortlessly brought into my life since The Big Relapse began. Everything I’ve needed to get through each stage has practically been placed into my hands with a loving, “Here you are, my dear.” So it shouldn’t have come as too much an additional surprise when my friend Barbara posted about this book, A Year to Live: How to Live This Year as If It Were Your Last, by Stephen Levine.

Click to read more on Amazon.com

Even before I saw it, I had the mindset that I was going to take 2013 by the horns and embrace all of it as if this could be “it,” even if it wasn’t. Turns out, there’s an entire book dedicated to this very thing! And Barbara is reading it! And now I am, too, as my first audiobook. (Downloading the Audible app onto my smartphone made this especially accessible, and the Philips SHE3580 series earbuds make it very comfortable for someone sensitive to pain to listen whilst lying down.)

Another thing that I just found–or that just found me, perhaps I should say–is The Big C, one of those shows you’re interested in but it just doesn’t feel like the right time to watch it. Until you finally do, and realize it could have never impacted you more than it was right then. ♥ I’m excited for the finale this Spring! (I’m excited at the prospect of being alive in Spring, aha!)

Speaking of which, my next resolution.

 

Many may have seen what I’m calling “the Joy Jar.” The idea is to write good things that happen to you during the year on pieces of paper, and put them into a jar. At the end of the year, you will have a fine opportunity to get a papercut a collection of events that made you happy to reflect upon, and it can help people focus on the positive side of life when it’s so much easier to focus on what you lack, or what you perceive to be wrong. But I thought I’d augment the idea into something I can actually see myself doing.

journal

Several years ago a friend gave me this journal that I didn’t get to write in very much before illness worsened.

Every day, I am going to write one good thing/something for which I am thankful. And I’m going to continue my goal to attain fluency, so I will be writing it all in French.

 

One of the most unexpected things I realized at the end of last year, was that I am so very tired of only leaving my house for doctors. It usually takes at least two days of carefully organizing spoons, one day of rest, and several stabilizing medications, to get me out of the house in a semi-functional capacity…and arrive at an appointment. Why? Because it’s critical for my physical health. So what made me think that my emotional health was any less important? I’m such an advocate for taking care of your mind, and yet I completely surpassed the notion of that care applying to something like this, too.

So I’m getting out more, to do things that don’t involve anything medical.

I fought for years to be able to breathe again and walk again and I’d like to do things–important things, fun things, memorable things!–while I’m still able. I shall go to the theatre more–performing arts and movies, visit more with friends, and dine at one new restaurant per month with my family.

English: The 14th Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso in...

The 14th Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso in Antwerpen, Belgium 2006

And I have plans to see His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama this year!

Such an event is also on a friend’s bucket list, so we’ve decided to go together. I’ve already gone to the park this month, and in a few weeks I am going to the zoo. (I love the zoo; I used to go every year.) Other things I have planned for the near future are going to see a local chamber orchestra, going to a dance performance (with seats in the front row balcony), and taking my niece to see Jurassic Park in 3D… I may think of more, who knows!

 

Finally, I’ve vowed to follow through with my artistic urges, wherever they lead.

I’m going to express myself through whatever creative means are natural to me. I’m going to write uninhibitedly, because

“Those who matter don’t mind, and those who mind don’t matter.” (Bernard Baruch)

I’m going to use those watercolours, the GOOD paints and the NEW brushes and the SPECIAL paper I’d been saving for “important” projects. And I’m going to take those pictures, I’m going to record more memories with my gorgeous new Samsung WB100 digital camera with HD video, 16.2 MP resolution, and 26X optical zoom.

“If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.” (as attributed to Jesus in The Gospel of Thomas)

I’m going to live my life this year, and no longer put things on hold. Did you make any resolutions this year? Do you believe in making them, or are you the type to make a decision whenever you feel ready for it, New Year or not?

 

♥ a rainbow at night

What do you really want your good health for, anyway? (Don’t wait.)

Posted on by a rainbow at night

It probably shows in my recent posts that I’ve gone through a lot of changes in the past few months, physically and mentally.

When you’re in treatment for an illness like chronic Lyme disease, ideally you have to put off certain goals or extra activities because letting your body heal is the priority. And when you have something like myalgic encephalomyelitis, you shouldn’t push yourself too much because abstaining from chronic over-exertion will give you the best long-term prognosis; repeated self-induced “crashes” will harm you.

But faced with two relapses, the possibility of another gradual decline, and the complete mental and emotional exhaustion that arises after four consecutive years of fighting for your life, I came to some big conclusions in early December:

This is the only life I have, it’s okay to make whatever decisions I think are necessary to live it, and I cannot put anything on hold anymore.

There is no longer a “things I’ll do when I get better” category in my brain. And it’s not that I don’t believe I can get better–I believe anything is a possibility.  (And how I love that word. “Possibility.” Almost as much as I love the word “indefinitely.” Indefinite possibility means, at once, what is uncertain is also limitless.) But like I said a few posts ago, even looking forward positively is still not living in the moment. You can’t get caught up in all the things you’re looking forward to having or being or doing, because you’ll miss the opportunities of the only life you actually have–the life you’re currently living.

Besides, what do you really want your good health for, anyway? I realized that many of the things I wanted to do were still possible if I just went about them a different way and stopped waiting for that imagined “better time” in the future… A future I’m not even guaranteed to get.

Would you live your dreams? Well, find some that are still achievable, and get started. If there aren’t any, create new ones. Would you spend more time with your family? You can still prioritize that, you just have to do it differently than when you were “healthy.” Would you be a better spouse/parent/friend? Don’t wait to unveil that version of yourself you’ve always imagined. They’re in there, and you can get closer to being that person moment-by-moment.

Another thing I learned is that I can’t expect people to understand where I am with this, if they haven’t been here.

My blog is (for my expression, but) less for people who are just now starting their fight than it is for people who have went a few rounds with their disease until they had to just Let It Be. I’ve had people think me delusional for their lack of understanding, just as I probably would have thought of someone like The Current Me, back when I was just starting out. And that’s okay. I hope they find this place gracefully if they also end up navigating it.

So with that in mind, I made some resolutions for this year. To be continued…

 

♥ a rainbow at night

Christianity never helped me deal with chronic illness.

Posted on by a rainbow at night

It told me–or maybe it was mostly the people involved–to “hold on to God’s promise” and that this translated to me getting what I wanted if I just “believed” hard enough.

Looking back on that now, it sounds like a bait and switch. And people are usually pretty pissed when you do the switch.

 

I realized several days ago, as I was reading something Christian-based, that I am still angry at Christianity to the point that I forget its good parts. I honestly feel that what the religion is today is a mockery of what Jesus was sent to help create, so I don’t feel disrespectful offering my opinion on NOT liking what the religion has become.

But I need to learn to focus on its core, and not judge Christianity by the actions of the people who call themselves Christians. The anger that arises in me is the whisper, telling me that I need to find forgiveness; for the brainwashing when I was at my most vulnerable; for the perception that those years were wasted on false promises when they could have been used to help me find REAL meaning instead of “if you’re sick it’s your fault for not believing in God enough.”

Forgiveness is letting go of the hope that the past could have been any different. And it’s over, so I need to move on… After I properly grieve.

 

So yes, Christianity never helped me with illness. It was judgmental. People blamed me, said I wasn’t doing something right, and that God was “allowing satan to punish” me for it.

From what I’ve seen, these are the major reasons people stop believing in any religion, especially Christianity: They are led to believe that (1) God hates them, (2) that God is punishing them for something, and (3) they can’t possibly wrap their minds around praying to anything that could “allow” so much suffering in this world… Which, from my previously Christian standpoint, did indeed make me awfully confused. But from my current, well-rounded standpoint, that I in no way achieved through the Christian religion, I understand it much, much better.

I’m a Universalist so I believe God is Love and there are infinite ways to connect to the divine. I don’t believe God, the Universe, controls our actions. It wants to lead us in the right way, toward Love, which is our true form, our connection to the Source, but it can’t stop us from hurting ourselves or others. That’s the free will part.

Many Christians I was around felt like they had to protect the image of the god in their head through bizarre logic, such as: If you believe in Him, nothing “bad” will ever happen to you. (And of course “bad” can be subjective. For example, I no longer see illness as something “bad” but as a part of life, like getting older. We all get sick eventually.) Or if something bad does happen, it’s because you weren’t doing something right, and these bad things will continue to happen until you get rid of all the “evil” in your life. I.e., Everything is your fault.

In my case, during my first years of being ill, their descriptions of the “evil” in my life were: “Stop drawing dragons, they’re symbols of the devil!”; “Someone in your household has been watching pornography!”; “Get rid of that gargoyle, it has a ~bad energy~ and it’s evil!” (I guess they forgot gargoyles are on cathedrals…); “This is a generational curse because your parents had an affair!”

It was all about letting other people tell me what I needed to do to earn their god’s love, what I had to do before He would take away this “curse” which had been bestowed upon my physical form because I wasn’t “perfect” enough to receive his mercy. (Sarcasm alert…) Because, you know, it’s so much better to have no spiritual direction and a broken soul but be physically healed, than it is to be spiritually and emotionally whole but fragile with physical illness. (…Okay, sarcasm over.)

How rarely people mention the SPIRITUAL HEALING part of that “you will be healed” promise in the Bible, instead of interpreting it as “pray and all physical illness will leave you.” With that flawed Christian-based logic, I guess Tammy Faye Bakker died from cancer because she didn’t love God enough? (Still being sarcastic, there. That’s not true at all!)

Become closer to God, closer to Love, closer to the Universal tie that connects us, and you will find healing. Perhaps not physically, but spiritually, emotionally. That is how I interpret that metaphorical promise in the bible, a book I firmly believe was intended as a metaphorical masterpiece never to be taken literally.

 

The goal of being “perfect,” especially to a judgemental human’s eyes, is completely unattainable. It will leave you struggling in self-hatred until you die because nothing will ever be enough. A belief in God is not your way out of anything negative ever happening to you.

Like the Buddhists, I believe life is suffering. Bad things do happen to good people. Hurting people hurt other people with their free will. Disease happens. Natural disasters happen. I can’t say I understand every instance of things, but I do know from those situations, with guidance, come some of the strongest people on this earth. Through all the pain comes forth a warrior. I’m one of them. And I use that strength to try to help and inspire people… So how dare anyone try to say God was “punishing” me, with the likes of something that happens to all of us.

It’s not a “one size fits all” where disease is a punishment that “shouldn’t” exist. Disease exists. If you have a body, it can and will get diseased and die. Life is a fatal condition, as the saying goes.

I think wonderful things can come from having experienced illness, and its’ timing is absolutely essential to how our lives turn out. For some, it’s the only way they are going to stop and think, about their lives, about their actions… How many near-death experiences, how many sicknesses, bring people closer to the divine and/or what’s really important to them? That’s not an accident, not in my book. Illness also profoundly affects the lives of those closest to the person who has disease.

If someone can look at me and say that God has not healed me, they’re not looking closely enough. I used to be so angry, and led by negative emotion, and torn. Nothing could have ever stopped me in my tracks like disease has…and yet, I wouldn’t change a thing if given the chance, because no other turn of events could have landed me here today. I think I’d be like so many people, going through the motions of The American Dream thinking it’d give me happiness but never finding it.

Through great suffering comes great reward. It’s not what I would have chosen for myself, but I am amazed at how it’s all come together, at the person I am and who I’m becoming.

 

People lied to me, but they didn’t know they were hurting me. They didn’t know they were blaming me for my disease because of their own desire to protect the image of god in their head; because of their inability to handle the thought of their god “allowing” illness to happen; because they saw illness as a curse to be delivered from, not a fact of life with which one copes. They didn’t know it all came from their fear of not being in control.

It reminds me of this thing I once got from a Facebook app:

“True faith flowers from and through doubt.

If you never question your beliefs, you are just a puppet dancing to somebody’s strings. If God had wanted your mindless obedience, you would’ve been created without mind and without free will. But you have both so you can come to God of your own accord. Just look at the lives of saints: Most of them had gone through a dark night of the soul, and that’s why their faith was so strong. The path to true faith always goes through doubt. So ask those questions you’ve always been afraid to ask, and find the answers. Then your faith will become unshakable.”

I’m glad I asked the questions, I’m glad I doubted, and even if I am still working on my forgiveness, I am glad I am not that which has hurt me so that I will not hurt others in the same way. And may it be so.

♥ a rainbow at night