Choosing to See Light in the Darkness of Lyme Disease
For many months, my constant internal refrain to myself has been “it’s always darkest before the dawn.” That phrase helped me power through some hard days, letting me believe I was at the worst moment and soon things were going to get better. The only problem is… I’m not better and every time I’ve thought to myself “the worst is over now,” a new worst has come. I can’t express in a way that doesn’t make other people uncomfortable how emotionally draining the roller coaster ride of diagnosis of Lyme and treatment has been. There have been so many moments along the way when I have given up hope a dawn will come.
Deep down, I know healing will come eventually. I choose to continue to believe that broken will be made beautiful. I’ve begun to accept that maybe that won’t happen for me on this side of the bridge, so to speak, and I’m making peace with that. But choosing to accept a different timeline than the one I wanted necessitates a new mantra. I no longer allow myself to think “the darkest moment has passed.” I have had enough “false alarms” to know not to believe too greedily that a good day or two is the beginning of a new chapter (specifically, the chapter in which I get well and leave this particular darkness behind). I guess, now, instead of seeing the darkness and hoping for the light, I will remind myself that the stars need darkness to shine.
Several years ago, my young son and I sat outside late one night watching a meteor shower. We were so excited at the possibility of seeing shooting stars, which have always fascinated me. At first, we could see nothing outside of the ordinary. The trick is to let your eyes adjust to the darkness; only once your eyes have acclimated can you begin to see the extraordinary. I am just now learning to apply that to life. In the middle of my darkest days, there have always been little glimmers of hope and happiness. There have been moments of clarity where I see this season of life has a purpose beyond me. There have been acts of love, big and small, that have touched my soul. And I, too, have learned how to bring light, even if just a small sparkle for a moment, into others’ darknesses.
I don’t believe I will always live in the dark. But, now that my eyes have become acclimated, I can choose to see the extraordinary beauty here.
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Thinkstock photo via m-gucci.