Feel Like Dancing

I have the most tremendous, wonderful, beautiful people in my life. I don't believe this is coincidence - I don't believe that the chance meeting of anyone is coincidence. In fact I don't even believe in any coincidence - I prefer to call coincidence, "Divine Plan."

One of these "Divine Plans," occurred over the summer. My friend James visited my family and I, with his brother Judd, on their drive up to Orcas Island. James is a friend who I met through Julie and Becky - my "Soul Sisters." Jules, Beck and I consider James just to be like "One of the girls." Now I realize James might be offended to be reduced to the nickname "Girl," but to us - it is the greatest compliment we could give him - it means we love him just like he is one of us.

When James said he was going to visit, I was excited to meet his brother Judd - who I had never met. I was blown away at Judd's intelligence, his awareness, his "light" and passion for his work. Honestly, Judd is one of the most talented people I know. I got to observe this as we sat at my family's living room each night playing music for hours, singing, Judd or me on the piano and James with the guitar.

Although on my path to recovery - I was pretty sick at the time. These boys got to know my illness in a sort of intimate way - that most people don't really see. They saw me do all the treatments that I do - and my 4 page chart of medicine I have to take in daily. Laughing hysterically they said, "You have to put salt water where? You shine blue lights where? You brush your skin, jump on trampolines and look at red and white squares?" Needless to say, they learned quite a bit. Judd particularly was interested in the pumpkin and flax seeds. They joked that I should open up my own spa called the "Gebhardt Spa" because of the menagerie of medical equipment contained within our house.

Three weeks later, Judd was suddenly diagnosed with Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia (ALL). It all happened so suddenly, everyone was trying to catch their breath. I remember thinking, "It is not just coincidence that our lives were brought together momentarily before this storm."

A person goes through stages in dealing with an illness. At first we are so angry. So angry. Then, we realize we cannot change the situation and we close down. We shut everyone out - push out the people we love the most - shut the door and look to find in our hearts some part that is so strong, so still, that we find an ounce of strength, a part that wants to live and we pull on that and sit there. We sit there until that strength grows and we begin to open up again. We open up to the fact we cannot control this illness - we can only give into it and ask ourselves, "What do we need to learn from this?" This is what an illness can do. It can show you that nothing, and I mean nothing, can destroy the stillness we have in our hearts. This is a power that no one can ever take away from us, and we have such a deep sense of peace knowing this. My peace in particular has always come from a spiritual place. I ask myself, even myself, how can I be so calm, so at peace in the midst of this chaos? My body feels like it is going through a war, yet I feel so happy, so at peace, because I know spiritually this is going to all work out. I feel wonderful.

I began to visualize Judd's healing. I prayed not only for his healing, but that he would find his own peace throughout this, true healing from within, and to look beyond the cancer at the deeper messages this illness had to teach him. I felt as if I could feel his emotions as he went through the storm - his anger, his sadness, his sense of loss, and awareness of the dreams that had to be put on hold.

"Judd I know, exactly how you feel. Exactly how you feel. Hang on."

I asked Judd if I could share parts of his emails that I receive from him. His emails have begun to bless my life - because now he is teaching me, and reminding me of what true beauty is. I asked him if I could share them with you and show you the brilliance of this man. Judd wrote:

I've been thinking about you a lot lately. It feels like so many of the lessons you have been working through, things you mentioned to me when I met you, stayed in the periphery of my mind. But I understand the things you talked about viscerally, in a way I never did before. I want to talk to you about music. It's changed my life, profoundly. I finally picked up the guitar a few months ago, and it's literally carrying me through this experience. I want to talk to you about the small things, simple pleasures. I'm really enjoying taking my time right now. It's as though I understand inherently that I was the force behind my healing. I never grasped that before. I sort of blindly placed my faith and trust and POWER in bags of chemo, not understanding that while those help--all good medicines do--I am ultimately the force propelling my healing. That's crazy! So I thank everything daily: my bed for its support, my food, the weight machines that give my body resistance, the guitar for being one of the best friends I've ever made. What's crazy is that I know you get this, inherently. I don't even think you or I would really have to 'catch each other up' to get it. You know...

I'm feeling good today, really good. I've learned to listen incredibly closely to my body and respect it. I get chemo on Tuesdays and have really embraced the 'down time' that follows for the next couple of days. But it's amazing. Just by letting the nausea and fatigue and pain take over and pass through me uninterrupted and welcomed, what happens afterwards astounds me. Come Friday (or Saturday), I feel this incredible surge of energy. I always know exactly when I'm heading into it. I want to start stretching and moving and running and playing and being outside. Both states are perfect by me. They kind of just are.

You know what gets me is this...It took me years to learn what Judd has learned in a few months. He has learned to love himself and all his imperfections through an illness, and to find peace within, regardless of what was happening around him at the moment - and best of all - accept love and help from others. When you accept love from others your life can be filled with joy - and then - get this - you accept “healing.” You accept healing. You love yourself enough to heal. This is a beauty of an illness.

I'm waiting for chemo. James is asleep on the couch next to me. I kind of feel like dancing.

"You know what Judd?"
I kinda feel like dancing too...

Didn't Miss A Beat

(Picture of me and the band in Boston)





Our lives are defined by our choices – whether or not we are aware of it. I believe we have the choice to create our lives, perhaps even down to the smallest detail. We have the choice, and therefore we are completely empowered.

I am aware of "choice" in regard to my health. Because I have been sick for many years, the tendency is to see myself as a "sick person." This defines me - but also keeps me safe because I don't need to stretch beyond the limitations that I have specified for myself. In my mind, I have the power to see myself as entirely healthy. I am aware of this choice now, especially because I am told lately, that it is time to start living again.

I am at such a wonderful place in my health now, that is more beautiful than anything I could ever imagine. This enables me to open up to the living – to cultivate friendships, to put energy into my career again, my dreams, and to be normal. I've started to live again.

When I think about this, I am scared. I am terrified. What if I make the wrong decisions? What if I’m not ready? I recognize, in a way, it is easier to stay where it is safe... to stay sick... because I can predict, know, and expect, what will happen. But I recognize even more, that if we live in fear - we attract fear - and how can we live if we live in fear? I don’t know what life is like anymore. I feel new and different. I feel strange because of my unusual life experiences. Where do I start? Just like I did with my healing, I intend to start with small steps, and as my best friend Peter advises, "Butterfly (his nickname for me), begin with yourself."

I had an opportunity to take a risk recently when asked if I could do a performance in Boston. My initial thought was "Hell No!" Usually when I travel I come back sick and exhausted. These memories of travel keep me captive to my fear. I realized then, that fear has more power than illness itself. I decided to take a risk - and not only did it work out - it was tremendously beautiful...

I was put up in a B&B on beautiful Charles Street, Beacon Hill. As I looked out my window that first morning, the snow was gently falling - well, maybe it was more like ice chunks being hurled through the air 100 miles per hour - but still, it was quite the vision. It had been some time since I last performed in Boston - 3 years to be exact. My performance would be with a band I had worked with for many years when I went to school there. We had no rehearsal, but you know what? I didn't miss a beat...well, maybe a few entrances here and there...

The reality is - is that most of life’s roadblocks are barriers in our minds. We have the choice to see around, through and past them. The largest road-block is fear. Fear of "what if." Fear of failure. Fear of leaving behind what is safe. Fear of fear itself. This is the challenge and choice I now face in my journey towards health.

This brings to light one word, “resilience.” A man said to me the other day, “There is more than one artist I can think of, who has had to make a comeback.” I thought, "Wow...very good...he’s right!" The fact that I am an artist makes my situation a beautiful thing. I have the power to use my insight and knowledge, to turn this illness into something meaningful. Isn’t that what artists do? Turn hidden truths, even harsh truths, into something that is communicable and understandable to others, showing a unique perspective? I guess I’m on my way - and it's like I didn't miss a beat.

Fallin' Off The Turnip Truck

Today I fell off the Turnip Truck! My mother informed me that it was indeed the Turnip Truck, not the Apple Cart... I was confused and thought maybe I jumped off the Bandwagon, but I was told I did this a long time ago and needed to get back on it!

Moving back to Oregon to live on "The Farm," has brought it's many challenges. One of these challenges has been a change in lingo. A day to day conversation might go like this..."Was that your cow out on the road this morning?" Or..."You just have to take the bull by the horns and do something about it!"

This knowledge came in handy today, when I went to the local DMV to change my drivers license over from Massachusetts to Oregon. I guess it is so difficult to drive here, that they make you take a written test with questions such as:

1.) "If there are a herd of animals on the road, should you _________:
a) try to go around them?
b) honk your horn to signal them to move?
c) wait patiently while the animals are herded off the road?
d) continue driving - they shouldn't be in the highway anyway?

Unfortunately I failed the exam - which means I am unfit to drive in Oregon. They kindly told me to come back tomorrow to take the test again, so I grabbed the drivers manual and headed home to study. When I got home, I realized...I mistakenly took the manual that was written in Chinese! Now, not only do I have to learn the how to drive in Oregon, I have to learn Chinese!

QUESTIONS ARE AS FOLLOWS:
1.) Do you have a medical condition that could impair your driving ability?
Ummmm, no... does brain fog count? I recall a conversation I had with my friend Mark the other day who is also Lyme Positive. He said his brain fog was so bad, that when he was driving down the highway, he could not figure out if he needed to go right or left for his exit. Here he is, going down the Interstate, 60MPH, thinking right, left, right, left, right left...He might end up somewhere in the middle - like the meridian.

2.) Does your vision impair your ability to see the road clearly?
Ummmm, no.... does blindness count? I recall another conversation I had with my friend Hilary the other day. It was late at night and she asked, "Are you ok to drive?" She asked me this not because I had been drinking, but because I am almost blind in my right eye, and in addition, my retina in that same eye does not focus properly; both conditions caused from my coinfection, Bartonella. I laughed and said, "It's all good - I can see out of my left eye perfectly!"

So technically, I lied at the DMV on those 2 questions. But hey! A girl's gotta drive! I remember reading something in one of my new age books saying that when you tell a lie, a shot of green is sent throughout your aura, poisoning yourself. I think to myself, "Shit, now I've screwed up my aura!"

In my dismay, I head to Burgerville - something a person with a chronic illness should never do. Why you ask? The meat contains contaminants such as antibiotics, hormones, flavorings such as MSG, food colorings, etc. The hamburger buns contain something I am allergic to - Gluten - not to mention simple starch. To top it off, I had a large soda, aka sugar! I cannot have these things because my immune system cannot process these contaminants. Gluten is a poison to my body, basically shutting it down neurologically, resulting in me wanting to take a nap wherever I might be at the time; not hearing voices, seeing clearly, or thinking properly.

I realized - I Just Fell Off The Turnip Truck! The day's events had escalated to this...but wow, did that hamburger taste good! "Tomorrow," I said to myself, "I will get back on the Bandwagon and eat properly." But first, I better head home before the effects of this Gluten set in. I really shouldn't be driving....

Headed Up Heartbreak Hill

(Picture of Peter and me at Berklee College of Music Graduation)

I can see it right in front of me - Heartbreak Hill. I do not fear this; I've trained on this hill front and back, time and time again. Through the snow, ice, freezing temperatures, wind and rain my best friend Peter and I would train for the Boston Marathon - sometimes 3 hours at a time - running the hills. "Not bad for a beauty queen," Peter would comment... He was always "mocking" me out, as he liked to put it. He would mock me out, but I always got the last laugh as I watched him stumble up Heartbreak Hill carrying quarts of my Gatorade along with various protein bars, which I had somehow convinced him to carry for me. "Come on, this is so easy!" I would say as I bounced along beside him.

Our steps remained consistent through the months, yet the scenery around us changed. Fall's beauty of colors, to the incredible Charles covered in snow; the melting of spring to the heavy humid heat of summer. I saw beauty as I had never seen before in the movement of the seasons, in the transformation of time around us. Sometimes I would be in awe at the sight and power of the Charles ability to reflect the deepest part of my inner life, as the moods constantly changed.

That beauty I saw, is all around me still. It has manifested itself into my soul, as I begin to heal from within. Today I pause to catch my breath. I glance behind me to look at the miles I've walked these past few years. Through the seasons, I've learned how to walk again, taking one step at a time, taking one breath at a time - my eye on the finish line.

"How much farther do we have to go?" I ask.

"Not much farther...let's go a little bit more...up the hill and around the corner is the most spectacular of all just waiting for you!" I willed myself on. I'm almost there.

The "Hill" is what makes Boston one of the most difficult marathons to run. Just before you think you are close to finishing, mile 23 pops up. Ahead of you are miles of hills to run, up and down. You are so close to the finish line, but the strongest test lies right in front of you. You are in the most pain, the most fatigued - yet you are almost at the homestretch. You have only a few miles to go.

Today I stopped and looked at my journey. I was struck with awe as I saw how beautiful it all was - and I realized - it’s worth it. Just to live - it’s worth it. I took a break from traveling today, and just appreciated where I was at - looked back at the road, and saw how far I've traveled. I’m tremendously lucky just to be alive. This is one marathon I will never forget.

No Worries, It's Just the "Herx"

My days are now filled with "herxing," and might I add "brain fog," making it very difficult to write this post. Yet, the most concerning thing of all about this whole ordeal, is that I actually know what the word "herx" means... What the hell is a herx? Most women in their 20's, are concerned with other issues other than the herx - reveiling to me that yes, once again, I am slightly abnormal.

The Herx or Herxheimer Reaction is an immune system reaction to the toxins (endotoxins and neurotoxins) that are released when large amounts of pathogens are being killed off, and the body does not eliminate the toxins quickly enough. Technically known as the Jarisch-Herxheimer Reaction, this syndrome goes by many names, including JHR, the Herxheimer Effect, the Herxheimer Response, a Herx Reaction, Herx or Herks. The most common terminology used is the Herxheimer Reaction. It is also often referred to as a healing crisis, a detox reaction, or die-off syndrome.

The Herx Reaction is a short-term (from days to a few weeks) detoxification reaction in the body. As the body detoxifies, it is not uncommon to experience flu-like symptoms including headache, joint and muscle pain, body aches, sore throat, general malaise, sweating, chills, nausea, and in my case brain fog, or other symptoms. This is a normal — and even healthy — reaction that indicates that parasites, fungus, viruses, bacteria or other pathogens are being effectively killed off. As these lovely things die, they release other neurotoxins and heavy metals, making it a wonderful experience for your brain. Although the experience may not make you feel particularly good, the Herxheimer Reaction is actually a sign that healing is taking place.

What does this mean for me..? My energy is so low, the thought of trying to move from this chair overwhelms me, and to even attempt to lift my body is only going to amount in failure. My eyes are buggy, which seem to delight my friends in asking me to take a picture. Yes, I have strange friends. No way people!

In fact, my whole body is swelled; my head, neck and spine especially. My face no longer seems my own because it is so swollen - my features are gone. My spine feels like you have had a really bad sunburn, your skin is all tight and swollen, and it won’t stretch. Now, duplicate this feeling in your spine about 20X and you’ll get the same feeling that I feel right now. My toes are numb and I cannot feel them, which most likely is caused from nerve compaction in my swollen spine. But hey, I am living proof you really don’t need your toes after all, right? It's all good, you don't need your toes anyway. What function do they serve really, I mean, c'mon.

In fact I wouldn’t feel so bad if I could only see. My eyes just can’t seem to focus that well, creating a blur around me. This might be good if I were a painter or something, and wanted some new ideas for abstract work. But I'm not a painter, I am a musician. So maybe I could write a song that creates mass confusion, leaving everyone wondering at the end what it was all about. Oh wait, our government's already got this one down!

"Breathe, breathe, breathe," is all I can say to myself. This is a scarey place to be. So today I make another conscious effort to persist, to endure - asking questions - how do I help myself? I am determined, but it is only because I have no other option, so I guess it is similar to beating your head against the wall a million times a day – looking for answers that nobody knows.

I Guess I'm A Soldier, Fighting For Courage

The other day, my good friend Brooke and I were talking on the phone. We were laughing hysterically as two twenty-something girls often do. Of course the subject was of men. I heard myself saying to her,

"He obviously has no idea what my life is like!"

We think it is so funny - that my life is so bizarre and off-kilter that it leaves no room for "normalcy", yet most people would never know... unless they looked beyond the surface of my skin. I am anything but normal.

She responded in all seriousness, "Tamara, I think no-one really knows what your life is like".

This girl is correct... No one does knows what my life is like.

I have late-stage neuroborreliosis, most commonly referred to as CNS (Central Nervous System) Chronic Lyme Disease. I have been unknowingly infected with this illness since 1999. For years my illness went undiagnosed, leaving the medical doctors baffled at my endless list of bizarre symptoms, giving my illness the name of Chronic Fatigue Immune Deficiency Syndrome. It wasn't until recently in December of 2005, I was accurately diagnosed with Lyme Disease, along with the coinfections of Babesia, Bartonella, Erlichiosis and Mycoplasma Pneumonia. Lyme Disease impairs your immune system allowing other illnesses to take hold, layering one upon another, and in turn causing more damage to your already depleted immune system. These illnesses, or coinfections are hard to detect because your body cannot fight these illnesses, thus creating no antibodies to show up on a common blood test. Most people with Lyme have one or two coinfections, but not me! I hit the jack pot! I have all four most common coinfections.

Everyday I go to war. I fight this unseen terrorist who lives in my body. It is somewhat like searching for Bin Laden, and I am the prisoner of war. I am captive to my medicine cabinet which houses my 131 pills I take daily (that is the official number - I just counted ya'll). Along with that, I do other various treatment modalities daily, either at home or with one of my doctors, which cleanses/supports my body, and neuro-exercises that keep my brain up and running. I guess you could say I have state of the art fighter equipment, and every day I start battle all over again.

My plan of attack is as follows: learn to love my illness. What do I need to learn from this? How can I outsmart my disease psychologically and physiologically so it can no longer have the power over me to thrive in my body? I learn to understand the bacteria, how it moves, where it hides, what feeds it... I build up my immune system, killing the bacteria slowly and strategically, giving my body time to heal. I have learned the importance of thought and intention. Everything I need is contained within myself – even the gift to heal myself.

Ultimately I fight my illness by finding peace with it - having compassion for it. Illness does not have the capacity to live in the resonance of love. Beginning with myself, I learn to love myself with all my imperfections; with all my limitations. “I am enough", knowing behind all of this, there is a greater purpose.