You're furious at your body for betraying you. "What's wrong with you that nothing ever seems to work? Isn't (fill in the blank here) years of this illness enough? Couldn't you one day, just function normally and stay that way?!"
Or maybe you get mad at God, or your spouse, or your dog. Or your pillow. Just something. You've been trying so hard. You've been spending so much money and effort and life's hours, just to have Borrelia seemingly triumph over your not-so-spiffy tactics.
You are fed up. I know. I am, too. Often.
Interestingly, the ebb and flow of symptoms also causes your brain to become subject to warped interpretations of healing. This isn't news to you, either. But funny how, no matter how often you tell yourself this, you yet fall into a tar pit of despair on days when symptoms drag and weigh you down with their iron chains.
"I'm NEVER going to get better!" A little voice screams inside of you.
But after awhile, the clouds part, your symptoms abate, and suddenly the world looks rosy again, and OF COURSE you are going to heal! How could you have ever believed you wouldn't?
It's worse when you feel good for a longer period of time, say, weeks or months, because then your hopes soar even higher, before BOOM! You crash again. But this time, your arse hurts more, because you've managed to get above the clouds.
So you pick yourself back up and dare to hope a little, because Life leaves you no choice but to do this or to die. After awhile, you start to feel good, and as you dare to spread your wings, the process starts all over again.
Maybe one day, you won't fall from those heights. Or you'll at least reap some kind of reward for your amazing perseverance. In the meantime, the tiresome game continues.