It’s been six days since I last rowed. Now that whatever was causing those mindbender headaches has stopped, and my health has normalized itself, I feel ready to get back on and row again. I’ll start slow, but I’ll start again. Despite seeming easier, not exercising just leads me down paths of overindulgence, binge-eating, and finding suboptimal ways of dealing with life’s stresses. I feel sluggish. I feel unhealthy and weighed down physically and mentally.
After accidentally launching Steam, I found myself playing a limited-time demo of Portal Knights for over three hours. I wouldn’t have let myself lust after such alluring worlds while writing my first novel, “A Story About Self-Confidence: What’s In A Name?,” a month~long story at Eville Medical in the Sammohini Arc of “The Story,” but after completing all my musts for the day, and not feeling terrible, I figured, why not give into digital allure?
The headaches got so bad I felt like a junkie by the time I stood in line waiting for the anti-inflammatory medication that had cured my headaches for years before. I had to wait for the right headache, one severe enough that drove me to feel like requesting a lobotomy would be a good idea and still being able to drive before I could see a doctor that would listen to me. Here’s that story.
All I feel like doing currently is sleeping, or, staring off into the ceiling and not doing anything at all. This isn’t a good feeling for someone like myself that is highly motivated, driven, dedicated, and willing to work past exhaustion in the short-term for long-term goals, but, when you do that for too long, sometimes it might be OK? No. It’d be one thing if the headaches went away. Cyclobenzaprine just numbs those storms.
“The neurologist diagnosed me with migraines within 30 seconds of talking to me, without listening to all of my symptoms.” Later on in the conversation with doctor-number-five, and the first doctor to actually listen to me and my headache symptoms, I received a recommendation to go see another neurologist because “that neurologist was not the right one for you.” Apparently, they often act like that, so I should expect similarly mixed reactions during future neurology interactions…
One passed another kidney stone, another had stomach issues, and I had a headache that felt like someone slapped me across the face to wake me up. Those aren’t scare tactics; if you’re willing to follow your dreams, like I did writing my first novel – “A Story About Self-Confidence: What’s In A Name?,” a month~long story at Eville Medical in the Sammohini Arc of “The Story” – then what’s a little short-term pain toward long-term gain?
It was nearly two weeks since I last rowed. Somewhere along the way, during my writing of A Story About Self-Confidence: What’s In A Name?, a month~long story at Eville Medical in the Sammohini Arc of “The Story,” I picked up disparately severe headaches, some disquietingly lasting several days or weeks. I felt the subtlest pangs of tension against my neck and spine rowing just now, but where’s the gain without pain? Well, right there.
My work-sponsored health insurance helps make my work-sponsored anxiety affordably treatable through addictive anti-anxiety medication. It’s a vicious circle that I’ve once again been thrust into. There is no real easy life, just learning to cope with what you can, and changing what little about life is under your control. I do what I can. I wake up early to read, write, and/or publish, so when I get home, I can sleep restlessly without resting.
The only time I’m depressed is taking anti-depressants. Those are the hours and days where I do nothing, feel nothing, and want nothing from life. Those are the times where I stare at nothing for three hours and feel content with hating everything about myself. I couldn’t quite describe this to Doctor-Number-Two, based on how I felt when taking Zoloft, but I sure can say it based on being on Amitriptyline until I regained myself.
My kinda work has always been customer-facing. Sometimes that’s led to new friendships and other times, my compassion has been tested and broken. There are days where people will either innocently or intentionally be so rude that I can’t help but not feel excited about helping out the next person. I suppose the thing toward developing a thicker skin is not letting those things bother you, but how? Take everyone here rude significantly less seriously.