I am on antibiotics again, since I finally acknowledged being sick again back in February. This summer has been brutally hard to live through. When I was first diagnosed with Lyme disease ten years ago I had to grapple with my own mortality (which I wrote about for Seven Ponds here) intimately. Though I prepared myself to die, through all my healing, I never closed that door.
Working through the past months of antibiotics, I finally realized that--that I'd never really chosen to be fully in this life again, that I'd kept one foot inching towards the door out all the time.
In having to admit that I was sick again, in going back to the doctors' again and going back into treatment, I had to stop denying that I have a chronic illness. Moving out of denial was painful but I hadn't even suspected the aftereffects of it: that in acceptance, I also stepped firmly into this world and closed that door.
