Stasis

I'm okay. I'm much better than I was a year ago, and better than the year before that. We have adapted our lives to accommodate my slowness. We are fine. I am happier than before but still feel anxious and dark at times. 

That's me. 

I finished the rife 45-day Lyme protocol as 2016 ended. I am not cured and well, and I thought I wouldn't be. But I did think I'd have more energy, optimism, and clarity. I thought I'd leap to seventy percent. 

But, you know, I'm not hooked to IV's, and I can do this from home. Bless. 

These are my thoughts. 

I don't think I am going to get better. I have improved, but I don't think I'm going to get back to one hundred percent function. I am too scarred. I have been severely ill for nine years. And I have reached an apex that will probably dip and plateau from here. I've reached stasis. It's a better place than it could be, and I am grateful. 

The objective is to survive until a cure is found or I have finished my work. For now, I can improve my quality of life...

...which is already pretty great. Just today, I soaked in the tub and thought, "Man, this is luxury. I have this house and my family and my dogs and warm, clean water, and I am so fortunate." So my ideas here are first-world myopic. 

1. I reduce stress. I do less and rest more. Seeing too much stuff in my home has always bothered me, so I'm getting rid of lot. A lot. My decluttering journey has been a continuous spiral toward just the right selection of items to serve our family, and each pass around the circle I understand better what is serving us and what is not. 

This doesn't just go for items: I constantly edit what I allow into my life. Anything unwelcomed is treated like junk mail--unapologetically chucked before it can enter my inner sanctum. 

2. I increase hygge--a Danish word describing a feeling of safety, coziness, and well-being. I relish good smells, soft fabrics, delicious food, living creatures, soft lighting, sparse furnishings, clear surfaces, and enjoyable books. We have more calm and seem to get out games to play as a family more often because of our desire for togetherness, and because of the spare orderliness that is beginning to allow this. I have more help with chores because we all want that good feeling that comes with a hyggelig home. 

3. I seek doable service. I dig my fingers into the incredible, arctic coats of my grateful dogs for a good scratch. I wave at the neighbors when I pick up the kids. I comment on Instagram and do my best in my calling. From these small things, I hope to roll forward--even if only with the momentum of stiff, cooling magma--toward my hope to pay forward the kindness that has been shown to me. 

Service can sometimes take my mind off of pervasive loneliness and mourning. Who can't smile when a dog is kicking its leg because you found THE sweet scratching spot?

I can think of a lot of things I'll probably never do, like run a marathon, get a PhD, or have more children. But I live a good life, a simple life, a small life. I didn't think that would happen to me, a small life. I planned to walk the whole world and be a big influencer in it. 

But maybe I'm meant to be the steady home base from which my family can leap.