I've been asked a couple of times why I haven't blogged lately.
Today walking Roy by the river, I thought about that.
I don't like to admit it, but my life is wrapped around my headache. Or my headache is wrapped around me. I try to ignore it, but it's true.
So to blog, I either have to talk about it, which is nauseating, even to me.
Or pretend that my life is something that it purely isn't.
And that's not really my style.
You knew that, right?
Every day is arranged according to my head. I wake up, and for the first minute or so, I am still, trying to assess how bad it is. Am I going to be able to get up and jump in the shower, and meet my day head on? Or am I going to slink down to the kitchen, make some coffee, and curl up in the corner of the sofa, and wait for it to settle down?
Sometimes, my headache is quite calm, considering. Those days, I whip around much like my old self, and get tons of things done. I forget about it. That is the most joyful day.....to just freaking forget about it for awhile.
Other days, it is medium bad. I function, but it's hard to think. Imagine putting a brick on your forehead, and then having someone tell you to not think about the brick.
Impossible, friends. Just impossible. I try to act "as if" everything is normal, and I proceed pretty much that way. Only someone who knows me would notice the "look" on my face. Pained probably. Grimacing, likely. I make mistakes. I forget things. I tell Lois to "watch me"......tell me if I am off track.
She's getting good at it.
Other days, it just plain sucks, and there is no going about my business as normal. I do bare minimal, and just aim to get through. Luckily, those days do not monopolize my life. But when they come back to back, it is hard to keep my good thoughts coming.
My neurosurgeon says it's my sinuses. My ENT says it might be, but more likely is my Chiari issue.
The bottom line is no one knows what is wrong with my head, only that there surely IS something wrong with my head. Nobody really wants to take responsibility for it now.
I am mostly intent on living my life, one way or the other. I dream of it being gone, but the reality, hard as it is, is that it is quite present, 24/7, for three years now, but who's counting.
Oh, yeah. I am.
I am still hopeful. Like the sun coming up in the morning, seems nothing can prevent me from it.
In the midst of my most awful days, I refuse to give up on the possibility that this insanity will end.
I still spend time with my family and friends, I still knit and weave and walk Roy and bake and cook, and do all the things I love to do.
I am still grateful, as crazy as that sounds.
There are so many things.
Roy snoring on the couch beside me. A beautiful, sunny fall day. Weaving at the loom, hypnotized by the rhythm of my shuttle.
Playing match box cars on the floor with my sweet baby Dale.
Sleep and my ability to sleep, no matter how bad the headache. I am so thankful for that respite. Sometimes I think that has saved me throughout all of this.
My family, my friends.
A glass of wine and a pizza on Friday night with DH.
My studio, with its golden light streaming through wavy glass, old pine pitch floors tread by so many before me, where I feel more at home than anywhere else.
I still have my life, and what a gift it is.
Who said it had to be fair? or pain free? That's just something we have come to expect, quite
Crazy as a Loom is still here, and so am I.
We're not done yet.
Life goes on, even when it's hard.
I figure it's up to me to make the very best of it.