I’m writing this on the tail-end of a headache. It’s still in there, lingering; lumbering its way through my body. There’s still a massive pressure behind my eyes, in my neck, and in my ability to concentrate. Normally, all processes are clear, I can focus, and do my work unimpaired. Headaches are like a sudden inebriation. My concentration and willpower are massively impaired as I’m struggling to even want to continue writing about this experience.
Headaches remind you not to take your mind for granted.
You might go through life and just do things as you will, without any concern over whether or not you complete them or not. After all, you can just pick them up later, right? With a headache, especially the debilitatingly bad ones that make you feel like your eyes are popping out their sockets or the ones that shoot up your spine with such tenacity that you wonder what kind of demon you pissed off today, you can’t do what you want.
All you want to do is overcome these headaches.
One day, I slept through almost the entire day to avoid a headache that had reached its peak the day before. At its peak, I debated between whether I should drive myself to a clinic to figure out whether something was seriously wrong with my head. I hadn’t had that sort of sensation to that severity before.
I wouldn’t recommend it.
The dull sensation of being thwacked on the back of the neck is still there, my eyes are still sensitive to light, and I’m still lumbering along as I try to regain my motivation to write, trying even to avoid typos [tpos?] along the way. It is subsiding though, maybe through a combination of caffeine and a focus on this writing. What I’ve always enjoyed about writing these essays is that there’s no wrong answer. It’s just writing what feels alright. When this headache does finally figure itself out and stroll on out, I’ll have regained a part of myself that I temporarily lost.
Just like any good post-addiction cleanse.
The world will once again be mine to seize, so the natural inclination is to grasp at everything all at once. That won’t work. It might even lead to another headache. I won’t be rowing after I complete this writing because I don’t want to push myself too much. I already feel like I’m pushing myself to my physical limit just by sitting upright and writing right now. My concentration is limited. I’m in that state with this headache similar to more advanced inebriation sessions where you want it to stop but it won’t.
My eyes have so much pressure right now that my right eye is crying.
If I may be so bold as to say: headaches and addiction are like any invisible impairment. Most people lack empathy toward even visible impairments. I know I thought this way a few years ago about headaches.
Then I started experiencing the displeasures of headaches…
|Sources: My personal experiences.|
|Inspirations: I didn’t have the motivation or willpower to write a short story or update to “The Story” so you got this analogy instead.|
|Related: Worse Than Sickness|
|Pictures: A brain or system with a headache and without.|
|Written On: September 19th [40 minutes]|
|Last Edited: September 19th [0 minutes]|