Anxiety is a useful tool, except when it overwhelms us. If there’s anything I’ve gained through these months of headaches I experienced, and am nearly three weeks away from having last experienced severely, it’s learning to overcome life’s minor anxieties. When you’re sick daily, you stop deeply caring about whether someone’s delicate opinion of how you look or feel matters. Anxiety, in this way, is a useful metric for general information but shouldn’t overwhelm you.
I woke up with enough of a sensation reminding me of my old headaches to worry me into thinking that I’ve got my first headache in seventeen days. Perhaps true. However, the cause of it was not drinking enough water. I still haven’t been responsible with my hydration since waking up, which is probably because I’ve learned to suffer through headaches for so long, but now that I’m admitting it, it’s time to drink water.
Although I’ve just got into better health here over the past three weeks, I still want to get back to my old pace, and I keep having to remind myself to… no… take a break. If there’s anything I can do to get into better health, it’s not pushing myself as hard for so long. I’ve trained myself to be motivated through years of writing and rowing. It’s OK for me to take a break.
Hopefully, this will be old news by the time this essay hits publication[*], but a friend tweeted about how the Army is setting up a field hospital and my journalistic instincts kicked in. I drove over to the hospital I used to work for, which inspired parts of Eville Medical from “The Story,” for the first time in years, and other than admiring the new architecture, I parked in a stall and took this in…
I tapered down my medicine consumption of my anti-inflammatory nabumetone perhaps outside of doctoral advice, but it’s still within, just accidentally. My pharmacy reached out to ask if I needed a refill. I responded yes. They never sent the refill fulfillment message. Around this same time, too, I found the physical therapy was working well enough where I figured this would be a good opportunity to try operating without the medicine. I’m good so far!
If I consider a mindbender headache to be any mental inconvenience lasting over thirty minutes, did I have one the other day that was caused by too much fatigue for a stretch of just under thirty minutes? In my Days Since Last Headache journal, I don’t count that as a headache, but since we’re concluding these essays about headaches with scope, it makes me wonder if something like that would be considered a headache, overall.
Writing this five-part series about passing seven years of sobriety has been exhausting. Anxiety over current events hasn’t helped. Although I don’t see a reason why my sobriety would be broken between now and year eight, this degree of self-examination has left me feeling exhausted. When I write essays normally, it’s guiding along my perspective, rather than addressing my own inadequacies. I try to do this whenever possible to bleed out false pretenses and arrogance.
In previous entries into this series, I wrote about the events that inspired my sobriety – seeing Clutch. I’ve taken some meandries because how many thousands of words can one write about any topic? Well, there is still the matter of addressing the question of how often do I want to go back to those simpler times? Although my life is much better “clean and mostly serene,” there is one major disadvantage: you can’t fully relax.
I don’t have any media – video or audio – from my sobriety date where I saw Clutch live. The event happened. I’m not looking for evidence, rather, reinvigorating memories for pleasure. When people would trash-talk others for taking videos that they’d never watch, well, that might have been true for most, before, but now with minimum two-week self-isolation orders around the US and the world, I think we would look back at that media fondly now.
Without looking, I forget how many times I’ve seen Clutch live, just like many times I forget my sobriety date. Both, and many other examples, exist nebulously in my mind, imagination, and memories as events that happened that shaped me into who I am. Going outside, even trivially to throw out trash, can shape us, so not everything we do is overly serious. Still, the most noteworthy events tend to exist outside of arbitrary pedantries.