“Crying is like an orgasm for the soul.” I heard this while re-watching Season 3 (episode 1) of Ted Lasso last week and immediately jotted it down. I knew then that I would be writing about the emotional toll of Lyme disease this week. When I think back to my battle with Lyme disease there’s an overwhelming sense of fear. It’s like a heavy wool blanket that colors all of my memories. Upon further reflection, though, I realize that there are so many other emotions fighting for recognition. Thanks to the wisdom of Brene Brown, I now understand that having the proper language to express ourselves leads to growth and healing.
Our main goal is to heal ourselves, right? Many of us don’t fully understand the role our emotions play in the healing process. Burying our emotions can cause so much damage. For those of us already fighting an enormous battle with chronic illness, we can’t afford to add to our burden. Learning to recognize, name and release your emotions in a healthy way is a vital part of health and healing. Take it from someone who has had dozens of bottled up emotions stored in different areas of my body for years. These bottles have caused much pain and discomfort. Releasing them after years of storage has been a tedious but rewarding project that I’m still in the midst of exploring.
Recognize and name your emotions
I have been in the process of soul integration therapy for about six months now. It has been an amazing experience where I have learned so much. One of the most important things I’ve learned is to understand and feel my emotions. As a nine on the Enneagram figure, I have a tendency to bury my emotions in order to keep peace, both internally and externally. Well, this is not a healthy way to live so I am working to feel my emotions. It’s more challenging than you would think. Let me share a quick example with you.
A few months ago I was driving to my therapy session and was confused by a feeling of anxiety. My stomach was full of butterflies and my heart felt like it was beating too fast. Thankfully, I had my therapy training to help me out. Instead of allowing this feeling to fester I took a deep breath and sat in my body. I focused on the butterflies-in-my-belly sensation and listened to my heart.
In that moment, I realized I wasn’t anxious or mired in dread (another feeling that I am well familiar with). I was excited! That day was my husband’s birthday and I had planned a surprise birthday party for him. I was shocked, and relieved, to recognize that those butterflies in my belly were fluttering around in excitement, not dread or anxiety. I share this example with you to underline my point, that having a name for your emotions will help you to properly express them. This way they don’t get bottled up and result in further damage to your psyche.
The rainbow wheel of emotion
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As a Lyme warrior I pretty much lived in the Fearful and Sad triangles. Referring back to Brene Brown (because I love her) she calls this group of emotions “places we go when things are uncertain or too much”. I think we can all agree that battling Lyme disease leaves us feeling uncertain and like it’s all too much. While fear is the first emotion that always falls out of my mouth when talking about my Lyme battle, I can see now that it isn’t even the most prevalent emotion that gripped me day in and day out for those long years. So, let’s give a name to a few of those emotions.
Dread
How many of you crawl into bed at night and start fretting over what the next day will be like? Visions of horror start flashing through your brain of some frightening symptom flare or another. On the flip-side, how many of you, upon waking, are immediately frozen in anticipation of the pain and suffering of another day? The idea of getting out of bed to simply go through the motions again feels like too heavy of a burden to carry. That is dread.
When I think of dread and try to feel it in my body it resonates in the center of my chest. According to Nasa.gov, a black hole “a place in space where the gravity pulls so much that even light can not get out”. That’s what my chest feels like when I conjure the feeling of dread. And my shoulder blades feel like they’re attached to the center of it. Where do you feel dread? Are you able to recognize it and name it?
Vulnerability
This is a big emotion that I think can be easily misinterpreted as fear. Being able to recognize the difference will allow you to see how incredibly courageous you are. When I think of vulnerability I see myself walking my dog on a particularly hot day in the first month of my treatment. I had walked too far and was suddenly overwhelmed with dizziness and a racing heart. I thought for certain I was going to pass out on the sidewalk and crack open my skull. The look on my face screamed vulnerability as I stared down passing cars hoping some kind heart would pull over and drive me the half a block I was from home. Sure, I was afraid but at the root of that experience is vulnerability.
At its core, vulnerability is the emotion you feel in the face of uncertainty or the possibility of harm, either emotionally or physically. I feel vulnerability in my guts. It’s a sinking feeling that seeks to diminish me. However, I notice that if I lean into it I can feel an inner power. That power is strength and courage. In the face of my vulnerability on that hot day, I knew I had taken on too much and sought help. When help didn’t arrive, I dug deep and found the strength to keep walking.
Loneliness
For me, the loneliness of Lyme disease was almost as debilitating as the disease itself. I was very fortunate to have a husband who supported me through my battle. Though he couldn’t fully understand my pain and suffering, he listened and he believed me. Despite this, I felt incredibly alone. I felt trapped in a vast sea of isolation. Loneliness in my body feels like weightlessness. Like I’m drifting, untethered and detached, from the world around me. When I’m able to recognize this feeling, I need only remind myself of those around me who love and support me. Without the ability to name this emotion, I would sink into depression. That’s the power of naming your emotions.
Despair and hopelessness,
I know that you can all relate to these two emotions. I’m lumping them together because one leads to the other. There were many days when I felt hopeless. For instance, day thirty-five when it became clear that, though my doctor was right that the first thirty days would be the hardest, day thirty-five wasn’t any easier. Also, days 153, 392 and 460. As the days drug on and I was still unable to drive myself to the grocery store or vacuum AND mop on the same day, my perceived notion that my life was forever ruined felt exhausting. That’s how hopelessness feels to me…unrelenting exhaustion. It makes my whole body feel heavy.
Sinking into despair because of hopelessness is a dangerous state to live in for too long. Recognizing despair is crucial. When everything begins to feel useless, that’s when you know despair has grabbed you by the ankles. When I check in on my Facebook support groups and see a post about suicidal thoughts, I know that person is feeling desperate. They feel lonely, sad and hopeless…a terrible combination. When I begin to feel this way I remind myself of all that I have accomplished. I actually wrote a poem to myself recently that is basically a compilation of my life accomplishments. When despair attempts to tangle me up and drag me down, I read that list. I recommend everyone who’s battling Lyme disease sit down and do this for yourself right now. Every day you can add a line that says, I survived another day of Lyme disease. This simple statement should inspire hope in every one of you, and subsequently, save you from the talons of despair.
Realize the emotional toll of Lyme disease
I spent at least fifteen years wrapped in an emotional tornado. Fearing my body. Anxious about some random pain. Vulnerable and alone. Weak and worthless. Fragile and helpless. I’m slowly learning to assess these emotions and feel them in my body. The ability to feel these emotions gives me a sense of power over them. It also gives me an avenue for releasing them. Instead of holding them and hiding them in my body, I feel them which allows me to process them.
I will finish this post with a reiteration of how it began. “Crying is like an orgasm for the soul.” That is because allowing yourself to feel creates an avenue for release. The second step to feeling your emotions is finding a healthy way to express and release them. Sing, cry, write, talk to a trusted friend. None of us have the capacity to store these emotions for long without them creating dysfunction. So cry my friends. Find a song that expresses your loneliness and belt it out. Write about how angry you are this is happening to you. Reach out to a trusted friend and ask them to lend an ear. Just don’t keep it bottled up inside. Most importantly my dear Lymies, keep fighting!! You are such warriors!
