For most people, the changing of seasons is an exciting time. Whether you prefer winter to summer or spring to fall, it always feels like a time of beginnings. For those battling Lyme disease however, the change of seasons brings along a slew of feelings, questions and concerns. I remember well, staring out my window and bemoaning yet another season of still feeling too sick to enjoy anything. Seasonal changes can be difficult for Lymies, to say the least.
Spring
I love Spring. Watching everything come back to life after months of being buried under snow never ceases to amaze me. Trees and shrubs that appear dead are suddenly teeming with life. Tiny green buds sprout and grow with astonishing speed. One day everything is brown and the next it’s all swathed in green. The sun wakes from its slumber and graces us with its warmth again. Spring feels like new beginnings and hope. It feels like a chance to start over, begin anew. Like the countdown to a new year it symbolizes a time to learn something new, set new goals and meet them. But, for Lyme warriors these seasonal changes can feel demoralizing, depressing and defeating.
As you may have noticed, spring is my favorite season. Therefore, it was always my most mentally challenging. As my third spring came to life outside my windows without me, it was almost more than I could handle. I remember with clarity staring out those bay windows onto our Aspen grove, wondering if I would ever get my life back. I struggled to maintain a positive attitude. Knowing that I was still too weak to enjoy a hike through the woods or a bike ride with my husband sucked the life right out of me. When I think back to those days, confined by my couch in my tiny condo, I am amazed at my tenacity to keep going.
Summer
Ugh, summer. This was the hardest season for me for two simple reasons. One, the heat and two, it was mentally depressing. The heat. The heat absolutely sapped me and led to more than one desperate moment. My first summer I was taking doxycycline as well, so I couldn’t go in the sun even if my body could stand to. Summer for me, two years in a row, meant skulking around in the shadows like a vampire. Early in my first summer I learned that I had Bartonella. So, even when the heart racing/palpitations, dizziness and faintness didn’t stop me from seeking out the sun, the nasty rash on my toes and hands did. Any time I stepped into the sun it felt like my toes were literally lit afire. It kept me limping to the shade.
As far as mentally depressing, anyone who enjoys outdoor summer activities can relate. As I watched bicyclists pedal past my window my heart would yearn and sink at the same time. Yearning to be on a bike as well, a paddle board or simply hiking through the woods. Then, that sinking sensation when you have to admit to yourself that you’re unable to partake in such fun. Keeping your mind strong during such challenging times is a major feat.
Autumn and Winter
Autumn was the easiest season for me to pass through. There’s a stillness to autumn that felt peaceful. As I watched the leaves changing color outside my windows, my heart felt at ease. While watching everything bloom into life in the spring is exciting, watching the world outside prepare for its long slumber feels cozy. There’s also a pressure to spring and summer that doesn’t exist in the fall months. That drive for activity evaporates when the suns arc across the sky begins to wane. In fact, it’s expected that you cozy up in your big, fluffy socks in front of the TV as the days grow shorter and shorter. This was a welcome relief. The cooler days were also a blissful comfort.
I don’t have much to say about winter. My biggest seasonal challenge with winter was the cold. And this was only a problem because I have a dog who needed walking. The cold seeped into my bones like frigid ice from which there was no respite. Since I barely had the energy to go for walks anyway it was easily avoidable. My husband mostly carried that burden for me. I do remember though, when he wasn’t around during the day, feeling like my bones would snap and shatter they were so cold.
You will enjoy the changes of season again
Every time I hear Em Beihold’s, “Numb Little Bug” I am reminded of what it felt like to watch the seasons change without me. “Do you ever get a little bit tired of life / Like you’re not really happy but you don’t want to die / Like you’re hangin’ by a thread but you gotta survive / ‘Cause you gotta survive.” I could easily quote the whole song here. Every line reminds me of every emotion I experienced in those days. (If you haven’t heard it, follow this link and take a listen.) And yes, I felt like a numb little bug hanging by a thread for a long time. But, I knew that I had to survive. I knew that I would survive, and I hoped that I would in fact thrive, once my battle was over.
While you’re in the midst of struggle it can be difficult to keep heart. Especially, while you watch season after season come and go without you. I held onto tiny nuggets of joy as the days, months and years passed. Nuggets like the hot, summer day my husband took me down to the lake. It was brutally hot and I was barely able to walk, but he stood by my side. He held my hand and guided into the icy cold Montana lake. I was apprehensive that the dramatic change in temperature would cause a herx reaction. With Will’s gentle coaxing I slid into the water and for a moment, a smile brushed my lips. It’s one of the most joyous moments of my life…and I still hold onto it today. You may have to search for those little nuggets but they are there. Simple and sweet.
Keep fighting Lymies! You’ve got this!
