I wake in a pool of exhaustion. My chest hurts. My body resists movement, thought, or feeling. I stay in bed repeating,

“I am on my own side this day. I am on my own side this day. I am on my own side this day.”

Tears form. I am so moved by this small gift to myself in the midst of chaos.

There is hope, I realize, in what my son’s Lyme-informed therapist says about personal boundaries, about speaking truth, about future. Although I do not know how yet or when hope will ...