Wow, it's been a long time since I've written! So much has changed in the last year (ish), but most of my absence can be summed up in my Jan 2015 diagnosis of stage 3 (chronic) Lyme Disease. It's hard to think clearly or move well much of the time, so writing beyond Facebook statuses and tweets hasn't happened. Today, however, I had a hard day, which is often where the urge to write comes out in me. It might not be profound or Pulitzer- worthy, but I feel compelled to share with you, just the same.
Since my diagnosis, I've had a lot of prescriptions, supplements and topical doodads on, in, or around my short and sassy self. It's been a physical, emotional and spiritual roller coaster ride (complete with screaming and throwing up), so I should be pretty savvy to change eight months in, right? Not entirely ...
I hit a bump in my treatment this week, which at first looked like a reaction to Bicillin, the antibiotic injection we're using to (God willing) put the Lyme in remission by 2017 (ish). It wasn't. just an inflamatory response to treatment, which my specialist is very experienced in treating. I'm growing resistant to my current preventative meds, but we have other options. That's good, right? Yes, that's good. One more pill isn't that big of a deal, but then we come to a super-touchy subject: CHANGING MY DIET. Noooooo! Come on, you're going to pick on allergy-girl and make her drink unsweetened alternative milks and no syrups in her lattes? You're denying me the amazing allergen-free baguettes I just found? I can't have my "natural" sweetners, like raw honey or Grade B maple syrup? I'm going to feel like puking all day and I can't have carbs to calm my grumpy belly? Toddleresque, uber-diva tantrum brewing in 3,2,1 ...
KABOOM. Into the ear of my BFF went some rather impressive ranting, complaining and creative wording, preventing the swear jar from robbing me of coffee funds. I was done sacrificing. I was tired of suffering. And NOBODY messes with my food. I wanted my mommy, a monstrous order of bottomless fries and permission to spend copious amounts of money on kitchen gadgets and Pentatonix merchandise. None of this, of course, was in the control of my precious companion, but she got to hear all of it. After venting turned to verbal vomiting, I knew it was time to let poor Jillian rest her ringing ears and take a time out.
I knew I needed time with God, but prayer wasn't going to be the avenue I'd use. No, speaking was clearly just getting me more worked up. I needed to rest in God and simply be ministered to, as the groans of my soul were understood by my Father. This is when music is usually my comfort. I didn't even know what song I needed, so I just asked Siri to play music from a group named for my current need: Selah.
This is a word you see frequently in the book of Psalms, and while we are not certain the exact meaning, many believe it means "pause." That's what I needed-- to stop, be still and just rest in Him. As the familiar hymns washed over me, I was reminded of the same source of comfort I've felt since I was a little girl: I am loved, I am safe, I am forgiven. I am not promised an easy road, but I am assured of a constant companion, rest when I am weary, insight when I'm confused and mercy when I fail. I'm not strong enough to do this, and I don't have to be.
I'm still fighting panic, and heaven help you if you decide to call me today, because when I open my mouth, all my feelings come flying out, but I know where to turn when that happens. My sabbath comes early this week. Also, if anyone in the house asks, Selah is expanded to dinner. I will rest in the truth that God loves me the same when I feed my family hot dogs.
Since my diagnosis, I've had a lot of prescriptions, supplements and topical doodads on, in, or around my short and sassy self. It's been a physical, emotional and spiritual roller coaster ride (complete with screaming and throwing up), so I should be pretty savvy to change eight months in, right? Not entirely ...
I hit a bump in my treatment this week, which at first looked like a reaction to Bicillin, the antibiotic injection we're using to (God willing) put the Lyme in remission by 2017 (ish). It wasn't. just an inflamatory response to treatment, which my specialist is very experienced in treating. I'm growing resistant to my current preventative meds, but we have other options. That's good, right? Yes, that's good. One more pill isn't that big of a deal, but then we come to a super-touchy subject: CHANGING MY DIET. Noooooo! Come on, you're going to pick on allergy-girl and make her drink unsweetened alternative milks and no syrups in her lattes? You're denying me the amazing allergen-free baguettes I just found? I can't have my "natural" sweetners, like raw honey or Grade B maple syrup? I'm going to feel like puking all day and I can't have carbs to calm my grumpy belly? Toddleresque, uber-diva tantrum brewing in 3,2,1 ...
KABOOM. Into the ear of my BFF went some rather impressive ranting, complaining and creative wording, preventing the swear jar from robbing me of coffee funds. I was done sacrificing. I was tired of suffering. And NOBODY messes with my food. I wanted my mommy, a monstrous order of bottomless fries and permission to spend copious amounts of money on kitchen gadgets and Pentatonix merchandise. None of this, of course, was in the control of my precious companion, but she got to hear all of it. After venting turned to verbal vomiting, I knew it was time to let poor Jillian rest her ringing ears and take a time out.
I knew I needed time with God, but prayer wasn't going to be the avenue I'd use. No, speaking was clearly just getting me more worked up. I needed to rest in God and simply be ministered to, as the groans of my soul were understood by my Father. This is when music is usually my comfort. I didn't even know what song I needed, so I just asked Siri to play music from a group named for my current need: Selah.
This is a word you see frequently in the book of Psalms, and while we are not certain the exact meaning, many believe it means "pause." That's what I needed-- to stop, be still and just rest in Him. As the familiar hymns washed over me, I was reminded of the same source of comfort I've felt since I was a little girl: I am loved, I am safe, I am forgiven. I am not promised an easy road, but I am assured of a constant companion, rest when I am weary, insight when I'm confused and mercy when I fail. I'm not strong enough to do this, and I don't have to be.
I'm still fighting panic, and heaven help you if you decide to call me today, because when I open my mouth, all my feelings come flying out, but I know where to turn when that happens. My sabbath comes early this week. Also, if anyone in the house asks, Selah is expanded to dinner. I will rest in the truth that God loves me the same when I feed my family hot dogs.
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