Well. I camped in a big grassy plain known to have ticks. I took precautions – I wore my socks pulled up, I sprayed my feet with deet and I did tick checks often. And I didn’t get bit (that I can tell).
More importantly, I didn’t let my fear ruin my good time.
This is a big moral victory for me.
Lyme is a huuuuge hit to the psyche. Getting as sick as I did physically, mentally and emotionally; falling through the cracks of our medical system; being told I was crazy for nearly a year while I became more and more disabled; getting saddled with an incurable disease that regular doctors can’t treat, that there’s no clear treatment guidelines for, that insurance doesn’t really help with and that costs me $25k a year out of pocket; being unsure of exactly how I got it, whether I’ll recover, how to get well or what I can do to stay safe; and living with unanswerable questions about what this means for the choices I make in my life about where I can safely live, who I can safely couple up with and how I might one day build a family.
Lyme disease is straight up trauma. And PTSD is a real thing.
Along with working to get well from Lyme + co. itself, I’ve worked really really hard to “recover” from the trauma of getting sick with Lyme. But a little voice lives permanently in my head now telling me I’m unsafe, and that at any moment, everything that means anything to me will unravel.
But that voice didn’t win this weekend.
And that’s another weekend I got to live in wellness AND joy.