Growing Pains

I am in the middle of a herx, again. It started last week (two weeks ago?) with Cranio Sacral therapy, which plastered me so flat to my bed, so hard, that I almost couldn’t get up to pee.  I initially went for the therapy (which is like Chiropractic care for your muscles, through gentle, guided massage) to get some pain relief from my muscles being all bunched up due to the way I’m propped up in bed. But my body had different plans, and instead the facia gave way in my abdomen rather than in my back, and I had so many releases and things moving back into place that I became toxic from all the movement (Lyme toxins love to hide in the intestinal tract). I became more ill than I have been in a very long time. So much so, I had to miss my godson’s baby shower that I had helped plan (albeit from bed) for months!

 I am now able to sit propped up in bed again, but I have been so tired, and lacking motivation to do anything (who lacks motivation to watch TV?? Honestly.)  This could be an answer to prayer and a sign of healing (less OCD keeping me up at night; more fatigue to help me sleep off this illness); I could just be herxing so badly I can’t even stay awake through it. My joints are twitchy and distorted again, so I know it’s bad. Starting a new medication last week probably didn’t do me any favours in recovering from Cranial; in retrospect, if I am going for muscle therapy, I should at a “quieter” time in my treatment plan. The oxygen I am supposed to start up on again (and am terrified to because of the seizures last time) we will wait on for a bit.

In other news, my mom requested a healing mass be said for me. A wheelchair was rented so that I could manage sitting up (and by “up” I mean at an incline), as I can’t really sit up for very long at all, let alone on a hard surface like a pew. It was the first time I had attended mass in almost a year. And it was a very overwhelming experience, in so many ways.

When we arrived, I felt like my chest was going to EXPLODE. I took an anti-anxiety pill on our way to the church, and even though it had kicked in by the time we got there, it didn't seem to help. I felt so conflicted. On one hand, I was SO happy to see all the people that I love and miss dearly; and on the other-- so, SO anxious, I could hardly look anyone in the eye. Any time someone did come up to me I was so touched that they were all I could seem to do was cry.

Right before mass, Jack asked to sit on my lap. There aren’t very many opportunities that I get to “hold” my baby, or care for him. And for anyone who knows him, he is such a busy boy, I was a bit nervous his wiggles would be too painful or too exhausting for me. I welcomed the opportunity anyway. And miracle of all miracles, he sat there, leaning back against me, for almost the entire time. Having the weight of his little body lean into me felt like he was holding me together; keeping me from bursting from the anxiety buzzing inside.

It wasn’t until I received the Eucharist that I received the peace I so desperately needed; dumped on my soul like a heap of snow. An insurmountable sense of gratitude filled my heart... more than I have felt this entire illness; remarkably, in part, for my illness.  And all I could pray, over and over again, was “thank-You.”

And though my anxiety returned with the crowd, the gratitude stayed with me. I have realized over the week, positive changes I had yet to be grateful for. As much as I have felt my life has been put on hold, or that I have, neither is true. All along, lying in bed, God has been working on my heart. Changes have, and are, being made; changes I wouldn’t reverse for the world.

For example, I used to strive so hard for perfection and to keep up appearances. It was more important to me that I have a clean house and scheduled company (and that I did it on my own—no help necessary!), than to foster community. Again, my vanity got in the way for most of my teenage and adult life. I wouldn’t go anywhere without make-up on; and because of such, missed out on opportunities to be gracious, and loving, or just plain experience life. 

Along with my perfectionism and vanity came a fear of being alone. I was so scared to be without company or something to do; afraid of being alone with my thoughts; afraid to get to know who I really was. Afraid of being bored.  And in all of this, I have also learned by laying down my perfectionism (to a degree), and vanity, and pride, came the ability—bit by bit—to ask for help from others. Because you can imagine how being sick doesn’t afford one any of the above luxuries. I couldn’t clean my house if I wanted to. By the time I have mustered up the energy to put make-up on, I am usually too tired to go out. And not being able to leave the house my room most of the time doesn’t allow me the best social life.

Now, all of these “issues” are rooted in pride. And believe me; I have a long ways to go in the pride department before God is finished with me. But I have to say: I am genuinely grateful for the cross He has given me in this illness, because He knew catching me while I was “on pause” would yield the greatest results. He has been working on freeing me of the sins and the walls that held me down and kept me from being me for so much of my life; and that kind of stuff doesn’t just happen overnight. The gift of being comfortable in my own skin...learning how to love myself and my life that I might better love others in theirs.

Next up: feeling comfortable in a wheelchair in public. Because that is one I just can’t  quite shake the feeling of eyes being on me for.

So, even though I may not like you for it: the next time I am down, please remind me that I am not wasting my time here; that I am not “on hold” or “in between” or anything less than the amazing things that God is doing in me. This is my growing time. And growing hurts.

Blessings and love,

Kate