I once knew how it was like to feel healthy. I once knew how it was like to wake up and not be inflicted with invisible pains far beyond my comprehension. In those days, I took for granted this health of mine, and didn’t take care of myself as well as I could have. Now that when I wake up, I either feel terrible or worse, it’s hard to stay motivated to do anything productive.
I’d rather go back to bed than write this.
I’d rather go back to bed than watch any stupid videos, play any stupid videogames, or go to work. I want these pains to go away but it seems like a neverending battle where I keep shouting into a void. Maybe something will be done eventually? I feel less patient with sanity now and less willing to fit in with the polite society that caused and perpetuated these headaches. It seems like there’s nothing that can be done about this, and I am trapped in a purgatory of pushing through these headaches in silence – despite my loudest shouts – that…
My vision has flashes of bright lights when I don’t see floaters distracting me. I don’t feel much like exercising because of the small chances that rowing or even moving around have in the past weeks caused exacerbations of malaises minor to major. I just go to work, get yelled at by people because they’re in shitty situations, and go home to sleep. There is no joy here. I am the victim of the American healthcare system, apathetic to any concern, but willing to keep bringing you in to look at one small sliver of your problems because that’s all they’re trained to do.
I don’t know if I’ll feel “normal” again.
If you’re reading this and can focus for more than one hour without having a headache pang unbearably knock the wind out of you, then you have a world more of potential than I do right now. You can do whatever you want. You can conquer any adventure you choose to embark on. If your body doesn’t feel nauseous for being alive or like your brain is about to explode then you have so much untapped potential.
I am becoming good at ignoring these sensations for hours at a time.
When I feel the sort of self-destruction my body is feeling, I can usually just focus on whatever it was I was trying to do well enough to let those pains fade out. I don’t know for how long I can do that, but it’s the only option I have at this point. Maybe everyone hard-of-soul and determined-of-spirit endures these same sensations? Living a life in cruise control is easy, but for those of us that want to live life according to our own inner guidance, the external haters don’t match up with our internal haters – when your body feels like it’s exploding from multiple points, someone telling us our work sucks suddenly doesn’t matter.
I certainly would like some respite from this.
I could endure far further if I could have a few hours to catch my breath. If I could have a day where I woke up and went to bed without feeling something nasty crawling around inside my head, like some kind of vile creature took residence and tries to find its own solace by scratching the back of my head, along the left side of my neck, along the sides of my head, or behind one of my eyes. In that sense, I’ve always liked to think about how my ideal physical state is when I can forget about myself and focus on others – whether it’s my writing, or working with others.
Feeling sick is too self-centered for me.
I use first-person pronouns and experience reality through a subjective lens, and these are just easier terms to express something deeply personal from within, but the preference would be to tell fictional stories of characters encountering their own problems and either winning or losing with the ramifications being simple or complex. As long as I am within myself, however, I must admit that I will have human instincts and feelings, but the fewer of those negative sensations I have, the better, because that draws the focus away from those external stories [imaginary or channeled] and back toward myself.
Ideally, I should just be the messenger of thoughts.
These thoughts should be ones that might be more universal than the ones I specifically am enduring because those would be ones that should be curable, right? We don’t write stories about how it’s like to have the common cold because although everyone gets conditions where they sneeze, cough, and have sore throats, they are temporary and curable within a few days with rest and over-the-counter medication.
These headaches of mine have been weakening.
They weaken the body and psychology. They make me defer doing things that might help improve my body or psychology because there are chances that they will cause worse sensations, as I have experienced, so I tend not to want to gamble to re-experience similar sensations. So I am left just being here, floating along life’s stream, indifferent to the long-term consequences of not trying to maintain my health or wellbeing because in the short-term, I must do what I can to feel better, whether that’s writing essays to shout into the void or just keeping my head down and walking along this path of mine, my vision obscured by migraines, my thoughts obscured by tension, hypertension, cluster, thunderclap, and mindbender headaches, sometimes simultaneously, never silently, until I find some relief.
Will that relief be soon?
Probably not. There is no other relief than the right relief, though, and if I succumb to my many addictions, allowing them to temporarily control my short-term, they will not help the next day or the next or the long-term.
I wonder how it’s like to be healthy and wander toward those good feelings.
|Sources: My personal experiences.|
|Inspirations: Just writing about myself right now.|
|Related: Other Sober Living essays.|
|Picture: Sorry to disappoint without cool new pictures every time, but for right now, they’re just too much effort to put into making.|
|Written On: December 22nd, 2019 [30 minutes, from 7:24pm to 7:54pm while listening to Wardruna, WordPress]|
|Last Edited: December 22nd, 2019 [First draft; final draft for the Internet.]|