“Give me one year and I’ll put your disease in remission,” Richard says after he reviews my medical records. Another fucking year? “Just know that my protocol isn’t for sissies. It takes a committed and dedicated soldier who’s consistently willing and able to take 150 pills a day.”
“I’m no sissy, but 150 pills?” Then again, how can I argue with someone who is doing the protocol himself?
“They’re spread out over breakfast, midmorning, prelunch, lunch, afternoon, dinner, and bedtime,” he explains. “You also take ten different herbal tinctures, three times a day.” Discipline has never been my problem, and, honestly, I would eat tree bark for six months if it would help me get well and move on with my life.
“Well, then, I’m your soldier,” I say. My only moment of hesitation is when I learn that his protocol costs thousands of dollars a month. My financial resources aren’t endless, and I’ve already spent a great deal of money on treatments over the last few years. But what choice do I have? I’m battling a disease that has no cure, and I don’t want to go back on antibiotics or other conventional pharmaceutical drugs. This holistic approach seems like one of the few options left. After I begin this protocol, I show the seemingly endless bottles of pills to my mom via FaceTime one day.
“Have you lost your mind?” she asks, startled. Yes! I HAVE lost my mind and I’m trying to find it again. I’m not going to lie, swallowing all those pills feels very unnatural to me, especially on an empty stomach in the morning. But as I follow Richard’s strict instructions, I learn how to make it work. For example, somehow my stomach tolerates the first thirty pills of the day as long as I take them with a glass of papaya juice. It’s a very intense protocol, but I’m an obedient soldier, and I will not miss one single supplement or drop. Ever!
After five months, I have more strength, can function a little bit better, and have slightly more energy. Instead of being in bed all the time, I’m in bed for three days and up for one. On the good day, I push myself to walk down the driveway, although this lands me back in bed the next day. I also notice that my skin, which has been dry and rough since I got sick, looks healthier, and my hair is getting thicker and not falling out anymore.
That said, it hasn’t cured my Lyme yet or given me back my old life. I always say that one day I’m going to put on my sneakers and run from L.A. to San Francisco! I am praying for a Forrest Gump moment because I feel this urge to run off all the failures that I’ve experienced since the day I collapsed mid-push-up in the gym before my wedding. I actually keep my sneakers at the front door, ready for that particular moment to come. But after all these months on the Helfrich protocol, I still don’t have my Forrest Gump moment or anything close to it.
February 11, 2014
More determined than ever.
#Alive #Blessed #Grateful
This reality is quite different from what they say on the Housewives finale. The summary about my life since filming stopped says, “On the verge of beating Lyme disease, Yolanda is ready for her next challenge … moving closer to Beverly Hills. She and David have listed their Malibu home.” I’m certainly not on the verge of beating this disease. My brain hasn’t made much improvement since this journey started. However, we are selling our Malibu home. Its magnitude and the overwhelming responsibilities that come with running it are more than I can handle. We have help, but I’m still in charge of it all. The beautiful lemon orchard and rose gardens that I used to love tending to are now monsters of pressure. Not only do I feel trapped in my brain, I also feel trapped in this big, beautiful house. With David’s recording studio in the basement, there is lots of traffic in and out of the house and music going six to seven days a week. As I’ve mentioned, the pre-Lyme Yolanda loved this kind of activity, but the new me can’t take it. Most of the time, I hide upstairs in my bedroom.
This is a very lonely existence, but it’s the only one I have. The only person who can relate is Ellie, who has been living with ALS for more than three years. She is now trapped in a paralyzed body with breathing and feeding tubes, yet she still has perfect brain function. ALS is the most brutal disease I’ve ever witnessed and heartbreaking to watch. Ellie and I have a strong bond of motherhood, and our common thread is to stay alive for our children and find a cure for our diseases, although my sentence is by far a less onerous one than hers. I FaceTime her often, especially since she’s the only person I know who is not running around and busy with life. She’s always there when I call, and we often joke that we’re the only two losers in bed all day.
“I wish we could merge your sharp-as-a-whistle brain into my still-functioning body and make one perfect person,” I tell her. I always encourage her to set goals and find a reason to live.
I try to do the same, and right now my goal is to figure out my next move on this journey. The outside influences and noise are too much for me right now, and I really need silence to think about it. I dream of going somewhere quiet and doing nothing for a week, no treatments, no responsibilities, nothing. It may sound strange, but I can’t find a silent spot in my own brain anymore. The Lyme cycles create this shaking engine in my brain that I can’t still or slow down. It’s hard to think, and I desperately crave humble quietness where there is no crazy life buzzing in the background. I am longing to connect with the earth and the ocean so I feel grounded again.
Around this time, a close girlfriend invites me and David to her house in Bali, and this seems like the perfect plan to get the silence I crave. Since I’m starting to have some better days, it’s just what I need. I also feel connected to Bali. My grandfather fought in the war in Indonesia, my mom lived there for a year, and my Uncle John and Aunt Alie are Indonesian, so I love the influence of this culture I was raised with. I want to simply throw on shorts and flip-flops and get lost in space and time without Lyme. I want to eat some of my favorite childhood dishes—satay, gado-gado, and homemade nasi goring—just like I used to eat at my Aunt Alie and Uncle John’s house growing up.
The trip seems even more ideal because David is having a concert in Jakarta.
“I can go with you to your show, then we can go to Bali together,” I say.
“I can’t go. I have to work,” he says. Normally, I wouldn’t go without David, but something is calling me to Bali, and I know I have to follow my intuition about this trip. When David says no, I ask Paige.
“Sure. If that’s what you need, I’ll go with you,” she says instantly.
“Why would a woman need to go on vacation with a girlfriend?” David asks when I tell him.
“Why not?”
“Have you read the book Eat Pray Love?” David asks.
“Of course I haven’t read it because I can’t read!”
“The divorced author travels to Bali and meets a man who eventually becomes her husband,” he says. I just want to get away from my life and get lost in a culture that’s familiar to me and eat the food I love. The last thing on my mind is meeting somebody. I’m looking to meet myself!
“I want to have this experience with you as husband and wife, but you have all these excuses: you don’t like the beach, you’re too busy, you can’t take time off from work,” I say. How can I build with someone who’s constantly blocking me from building? Typically, I’m all about keeping the peace and would try to fix things between me and David, but something inside me remains stubborn. I insist on going.
A few weeks later, I accompany David to his show in Jakarta. Paige meets me there and together we fly to Bali. My friend’s driver picks us up at the airport, and we make small talk with him as we travel to her house.
“It’s a good thing you came today,” he says. “Tomorrow, the airport will be closed.”
“Why?” I ask.
“It’s Nyepi,” he says.
“Nyepi? What is Nyepi?”
“It’s the Hindu New Year. Our day of silence where you reflect on your life, pray for forgiveness, and contemplate how you’ll do things better in the new year,” he explains. Day of silence?
“The streets will be empty because we’re not supposed to leave our homes, and all the shops and everything else will be closed. You can’t use electricity or phones and aren’t supposed to talk for twenty-four hours.”
My jaw drops as I look at Paige. Silence. OMG. I asked for silence and look what I’m getting: a WHOLE ISLAND in silence! I’m stunned, but I also believe that there are no coincidences in life. Before we left California, no one knew what I was talking about. I didn’t even know what I was talking about. I wasn’t sure why I was drawn to Bali, but clearly the stars were aligned and I’m supposed to be here.
“You are such a little witch,” Paige says to me, giggling. Even though my once stellar intuition has felt dim lately, I am extremely grateful that we’re here in this moment.
March 30, 2014
Praying for health and happiness
before the day of silence tomorrow.
#Nyepi #HinduNewYear #BalineseCulture
Once we arrive at the house and settle in, I prepare for my day of silence. I ask our host for a pen and a stack of paper, and then we walk to the charming little town nearby to get candles. It’s a warm, gorgeous night and the energy on the streets is electric. A beautiful carnival goes by with the most amazing bright-orange and red costumes. I love getting lost in a crowd of local people who have never seen a Housewives show. I feel the spirit of their beautiful religion and this special holiday celebration. It’s magical.
“I’m taking Nyepi very seriously,” I tell Paige, who loves to chitchat all day long. “So don’t talk to me tomorrow for any reason.” I say this jokingly but she knows I mean business. I go to sleep excited to see what the next day will bring.
The following morning, I wake up around six thirty and immediately notice how quiet it is and how quiet I feel. All of a sudden, there is space for the sound of God’s creatures, minus all the overwhelming noise of today’s modern world. I haven’t felt this kind of silence since I lived in Holland as a child while biking to the barn on the quiet country roads at dawn. I realize how much I miss that peacefulness and I feel such gratitude for those simple memories. Then I bring my mind back to Nyepi. What a blessing to have permission to live in silence for a day, the silence that I have been yearning for for so long but somehow haven’t been able to find or give myself. The sense of responsibility that I have to my husband and children always overrides anything I need. It’s been a long time since I’ve been alone with my thoughts and I’m loving every minute of it.
After meditating for a couple of hours, an amazing sense of clarity comes over me. I pick up the paper and pen and just start writing. A whirlwind of words pours out of me. I don’t even know what I’m writing, but I do so without thinking or sparing anyone’s feelings. I spend the entire day just purging my thoughts and emotions, meditating, and taking a few brief naps. The words are authentic and true to me. It feels good to just let them flow without reading or correcting anything. The end result is twenty-three handwritten pages of pure thoughts and feelings. For someone who has been so bottled up, this endless stream of words is thrilling. I share some, not all, of the writings here because there are parts that may be hurtful to some people, don’t move this story along, and are deeply personal between me and David. Out of respect to our journey together, I will leave it at this.
March 2014
6:40 A.M.
The Day of Silence
I don’t know much about the Hindu religion, but I like this Nyepi Day and I love the idea of today being the first day of my Yolanda van Den Herik New Year. Stripping away all the belonging and titles I have accumulated over the past 50 years and try to reach deep to remember what it’s like to be me. Immediately, my children come to mind, but I must redirect the thought and remind myself that today is going to be about ME, which is easier said than done. I would like to acknowledge all the things that I could have done better in the past and plan on how I want to hopefully live in the future.
As I am laying in a small single bed in a 10′ × 10′ hut, my big fluffy bed at home seems so far away. I needed this distance away from that life in order to separate me from it. My life, my husband, my children, my job, my responsibilities to family and friends have become an unexplainable pressure to me. My life is too big.
I just got this craving for Starbucks coffee, but without electricity, I might as well forget about any cravings today. Bali is on lockdown. Nobody is allowed out of the house, no electricity, water, shower. Even the airport is closed. It’s just perfect!! I have been asking for quiet time. Well, God provided and gave me the most silent day I will probably ever experience. It’s magical. I have never not talked for a day. How amazing that everyone on this island is having quiet time in their homes with their families contemplating their mistakes this past year and their dreams and goals for the upcoming year. What an extraordinary gift of their culture and religion. I am honored to be here.
I have not lived, but just existed for these past few years. I never stopped a minute, let alone a day to think about how it made me feel, but rather choose to be in constant battle mode with blazing guns to fight the spirochetes that have attacked my brain so severely that it literally has brought me to my knees. I often wonder if I have the strength to continue to fight this battle on top of the usual pressures of life. Sometimes, the thought of taking my own life seems the only way out of this, but thank God my sense of responsibility for my children will always override that feeling of awful desperation. I have to remind myself that I have come a long way, to which seems an endless recovery, but I do know that last year at this time, I could not even get out of bed. It’s the mechanical part in my brain that seems to be stuck in first gear. I feel like I have the coping skills and intelligence of a 10-year-old. My confinement within the walls of my own brain is suffocating because the slightest outside pressure shuts it down so recalling memories or participating in any debate of intelligent conversation is almost impossible.
The more noise around me, the smaller I feel. I have very much lost my sense of self and it’s hard to remember what it’s like to be me with the freedom and the ability to do what I like and what makes me feel good. I have clearly come to a dead end on this road less traveled and I want to stay in this little hut until I find my compass. I feel this great urge to reevaluate my life and all those in it, but have not had the tools to do so. I need to purge and visit all the topics in my life that are blocking my spiritual being from shining bright.
David: How do I all of a sudden feel trapped by the most quality human being in my life? I feel empty and lost all drive to try to fix all the issues that have broken our bond. It’s not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t have the ability right now to do so. The little energy I have left, I need to get out of bed in the morning and just try to get through my day the best I can, just one day at a time.
Since the death of my father, I have never given my heart fully to anyone until I met David. I loved him deeply and completely until too many disappointments during this vulnerable time chipped away my respect for him and our union. I am not sure if this is the end of our journey together or if we can rebuild from here. My heart is so closed off at this moment that I can’t feel a true sense of where I am at. I can’t imagine my life with someone else. But I can also not imagine being emotionally stuck in a relationship that doesn’t seem to work anymore.
The next day, I wake up overcome with a deep sense of relief, but also with sadness for being stuck in my head for so long. How did I get here? The girls and I sit around and share our personal experiences from Nyepi. Of course, I’m the only one in this group who actually was silent.
“I’ve been in survival mode and lost the ability to communicate from the day Lyme confiscated my brain,” I tell them. “The everyday fight to keep my head above water took away so much joy in my life.”
“I know this sounds crazy, but I think we should do mushrooms,” says Paige. “They supposedly open up your brain.” Of course, being the researcher that I am, I immediately
google this type of mushroom and learn that it’s organic, natural, safe, and, most importantly, legal in Bali. It’s believed to enlighten the brain and expand the user’s consciousness. One report said that psilocybin, the active chemical in magic mushrooms, supposedly has the power to rearrange the brain’s neurons so that new connections are made between them, and accessing the neurons becomes easier, which brings clarity and a fresh perspective. I was born and raised in a country where soft drugs were legal, but I never did them. Part of this was because I was always very health conscious, but also because I don’t like to be out of control. Well, if I am going to do drugs at my age, this sounds like the perfect one. So off we go on a mushroom hunt and soon find what we are looking for.
When we come home, we sit in the outdoor kitchen watching Paige slowly brew the mushrooms into a tea that she pours into water bottles for our not-so-ordinary tea party. It turns out to be the funniest experience of my life. According to my friends, I become a hilarious stand-up comedian. Paige has known me over two decades and says she’s never seen me this funny. I talk up a storm and laugh at myself and the craziness I’ve been through in the past couple of years through self-deprecating skits about the housewives, how David married a lemon, and how fucking ridiculous my whole world has become. I laugh my ass off with tears running down my cheeks for more than six hours until my jaw and stomach hurt. They are the kind of belly laughs that I remember from childhood but somehow left behind when I became an adult. I mostly laugh at how stupidly serious and responsible I am and have been my whole life.
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