It is nearly two in the morning but my eyes are still wide awake and my head is swarming with thoughts. Recent days haven’t been the easiest, as my emotional status reminds me. Lyme and its symptoms have proven their conquest over my human power and determination of will.
Only a few hours into this new day, the pressure in my head is intense with both pain and painful emotion. Nervous attacks rack both my physical and mental state and my attempt to squash them fail miserably. By writing this post, I bear a piece of my soul to my readers and open myself up to those who long to see me fail, as well as those to who will fail to understand. But I must write, because bearing my soul opens a door to what Lyme can do to a human being, and the world should realize how horrid this punishment can be.
A few days ago I experienced a panic attack, one that took complete control over my body and scared me to my very soul. Panic and anxiety attacks are nothing new to me; in fact, in years past I would battle two or three a day on a regular basis. This history taught me how to deal with such attacks and how to curb the consequences by taking control through meditation, mind games, and environmental changes. Having a physical attack the other day that took complete control within minutes and left me powerless was, therefore, a matter of great concern. No, more than concern. I was frightened.
Only a few minutes ago, I felt the same sensations begin to hover around my soul again: the unexplained sudden tears, the shortness of breath, the depth of despair within my mind. No, no, no, I pleaded to the empty air – I couldn’t go through this again. I couldn’t bear this again so soon.
The television was on, not that I was paying much attention. The scene playing however was portraying an older gentleman who claimed how tired he was…how very tired, and how he just wanted to lie down. After doing so, he passed away, and the movie ended.
“How nice it would be, to just lie down and pass away,” I thought. I pondered it for a moment; yes, how nice it would be to never be scared of uncontrollable panic attacks or inexplicable pain. You see, I am at the end of my rope; I am approaching my fifteenth year of struggling with Lyme disease and have done nearly every treatment plan available. I have nowhere to turn, except to the couch which is now my daily friend. I have little hope on the horizon, except the hope I try to hold in my soul that something will soon change and I can be ME again. When I had the ability to work, my superiors constantly regarded me as one of the hardest of workers, proving that I don’t take the easy way out of a situation. In this situation however, I want the easy way out, because life is so hard. SO hard. Each day is a challenge to simply survive. How nice it would be to lie down and simply pass away, simply be done with it all.
My dog, with mature perception, came and curled next to me, content to simply be near me and be petted for a few moments. She came to remind me that life offers more than pain. But life, right now, IS pain for me. As much as I love my baby dog as well as family and friends, I also relish the thought of waking up pain free or, if that is not possible, passing away in a sweet slumber. The latter thought is selfish perhaps, but truthful nonetheless.
To live life, to live my life with chronic Lyme, is hard. Perhaps, in a few hours, I can lay my tired body down. But I will awake on another day of challenges that must be faced. Life gets harder with each passing year and with each failed treatment plan, which chips away at my attempt to hope in the impossible. For anyone living life with Lyme, life is hard. To die is easy. To live is pain.