By Rabbi Melinda Bernstein

When I first learned I had Lyme in April 2024, I went looking for the soul of the issue. As I began to understand what was happening in my body, I also paid close attention to what others in the Lyme community were grappling with, even as I quietly worked to form my own plan.

I knew instinctively that healing would require a complete life overhaul and an abundance of spontaneous prayer to meet the grief I had been carrying and trying to resolve.

I also knew that my symptoms began years earlier, during a season of deep caregiving and loss. I had spent that time holding space for others through life’s celebrations and grief while quietly carrying an illness I did not yet understand. Even then, I sensed that faith and presence would be essential companions on this path.

Recently, I spoke about my journey on Fred Diamond’s Love, Hope, Lyme podcast, joined by Gregg Kirk, another leader in Lyme awareness and healing. (Click here to listen to the episode.)

Together, we explored not just what illness takes from us, but what it reveals. This article expands on those themes: faith under pressure, the quiet miracles that carry us, and the resilience that rises when the body forces us to slow down and listen.

You may find that healing begins one honest moment at a time—choosing what strengthens you, releasing what depletes you, and allowing clarity to unfold at a pace your body can trust.

When illness strikes, everything that once felt reliable may shift—your stamina, your clarity, your rhythms, your trust in your own body.

The reshaping that happens within

Anyone living with Lyme knows this feeling of life rearranging itself beneath you. But what first feels like breaking is often the beginning of a rebuilding—one that reveals strength, wisdom, and capacities you didn’t know you had. But if you stay present, another truth emerges: you are not being erased; you are being reshaped.

And reshaping is an act of love — not a test, not a punishment, not something you must earn. Illness can make you believe you need to prove your worth or stay strong to deserve care, but real love asks nothing of you. It meets you exactly where you are, even in the unraveling, and reminds you that you are worthy of compassion long before you feel healed.

Illness also invites a new intimacy with yourself — a quieter relationship built on presence rather than performance. It is a form of love that grows when you listen gently and meet your needs without apology.

Lyme will ask you to evolve. It will ask you to pause. It will ask you to listen.

Nothing about your struggle means you’re failing. You are responding to a disease that affects the immune system, the nervous system, and the emotional body all at once. When medicine can’t fully “fix” what’s happening—when treatments stall, specialists disagree, or symptoms vanish then return—you may feel destabilized. But you are not weak. You are human.

This is where loving presence becomes an anchor, trust becomes a lifeline, and faith becomes the willingness to stay in your life even while the outcome remains uncertain. Surrender isn’t defeat. It’s recognizing that healing and miracles follow its own rhythm, not the one you had planned.

Restoring the inner landscape

What I know to be true is that we are here to grow into truer versions of ourselves. Lyme opens the door to this opportunity. At first it may take your confidence, identity, or a sense of safety. Yet once you use your creativity and curiosity, you can also clear away what no longer serves you. You will sharpen compassion, resilience and a different form of strength. And for me, music, movement and meditation became the reminder to rebuild from the inside out.

For me, the primary work was somatic: learning to feel safe again in my own body, tending to unprocessed grief, and gently restoring trust where illness had created fear. Music, movement, and meditation became ways to listen inward and rebuild from the inside out. Below are a few reasons why:

• Meditation restores systems that illness disrupts.
• Breathwork calms an overwhelmed nervous system.
• Mindfulness helps quiet fear spirals.
• Guided imagery encourages your immune system to feel safe again.
• Somatic practices rebuild your ability to understand what your body needs.
• Music helps regulate emotion and rhythm, offering comfort when words are too much.
• Gentle movement restores trust in the body through safe, mindful motion.
• And spiritual connection helps you rediscover meaning when illness shakes your sense of self.

Taking any of the above in small and simple practices will help you integrate who you are becoming without losing your essence and if you keep at it, you will begin to notice small miracles.

Healing in a dysregulated world

Additionally, as you learn more about immune dysfunction, nervous system overload, and the complexity of chronic illness, you may notice what I eventually saw: your body often mirrors the world around you. We live in collective dysregulation—patterns of inflammation, exhaustion, and disconnection from any true rhythm of rest. Your healing is not separate from this larger landscape. Honor that truth too.

In my own life, 2026 marks the continuation of a long‑term shift. The years ahead will continue to ask me to honor my limits, protect my energy, and choose spaciousness over strain. I see my future shaped by gentler rhythms, deeper rest, and a devotion to practices that restore—not deplete—my body and spirit.

Your future holds the same possibility. And the transition from understanding to action can be gentle. As you move into 2026 and beyond, you, too, can find ways to offer yourself moments of steadiness in the middle of challenge. Even one breath, one pause, one gentle practice can shift the course of a day. Whether you share your healing with others or keep it quietly for yourself, your future is shaped by the small, honest choices you make to support your own well‑being. These are the beginnings of your devotion to a life aligned with clarity, strength, and purpose.

Even in your hardest moments, you still have tools that work.
Even when you feel lost, there are ways back into your own life.
And even when you feel alone, you are part of a larger story of resilience unfolding.

A closing blessing for your path ahead

May you meet each day with the strength already living inside you.
May your breath return you to yourself.
May your body reveal its wisdom gently.
May moments of clarity arrive exactly when you need them.
May support find you, even in unexpected places.
And may your healing unfold in ways that surprise you with their grace.

Rabbi Melinda Bernstein walks with individuals through grief, major life transitions, and the challenges of chronic illness. Her meditations on Insight Timer weave Jewish mysticism, somatic awareness, and faith. Learn more at MelindaBernstein.com