Reality Check

Last night I was jolted back into the reality of why I started this blog: pain. Why am I even sitting down to write this post? I don't know, the last thing I want to do is relive the nightmare of last night. But part of me feels like maybe I can get it all out of my body by transferring it to here.

Its been at least 5 months since my last migraine. I was starting to fall into one of the "I'm cured" attitudes that dangerously teases me 1-2x a year. I will never be cured. I will always live with the threat of a migraine lurking around the corner. The more I allow myself to imagine its over, the worse it will be when it begins again.

I woke up around 3am with a dull ache behind my eyes. This is a strange feeling, I thought, as I stared at my face in the bathroom mirror. I had a relaxing evening and had gone to bed at nearly 9:00... I couldn't figure out why my eyes held this tired, aching feeling.

I got back in to bed and within minutes of hitting the pillow... the dull ache transformed into a searing pain around both my temples. It still wasn't "migraine-worthy" so I got back up and took two aleve, drank a glass of water, and crawled back into bed.

20 minutes passed (the usual time it takes for aleve to work for me) and the pain now pulsated around my eyes, temples, and forehead. A panic crept into my chest as the top of my head also began to throb. Usually, my migraines are preceded by an aura, then almost exactly 20 minutes later a throbbing pain in one temple or the other. I tried to convince myself that since I didn't have an aura, this couldn't be a migraine... but to be safe, got back up and took one of the migraine pills.

30 minutes later I was up and pacing around the apartment. My head was so bad I couldn't lower it down to my pillow. I was hit by waves of nausea that sent me, sweating, running to the bathroom. I held a bag of ice on my head and curled up on the bathroom rug, waiting for something to happen.

With one eye opened, I peeked at the Percocets jammed in the corner of the medicine cabinet, stashed only for emergencies. This was now an emergency. I quickly took one and attempted to crawl back into bed. My head still wouldn't allow me to rest it on the pillow, so I sat up and stared at the dark window, waiting and hoping.

I must have fallen asleep, because suddenly I was pulled upright with intense stomach cramps. I barely made it to the bathroom before puking a belly filled with pills and water :( Damn those painkillers!

But suddenly... the pain began to subside. The nausea shrank to a tiny pull in my stomach. I checked the time - 6am. Three hours of torment finally ending.

Almost 12 hours later and I'm just getting up. Another day lost to the darkness of a migraine. My brain tempts me to feel relief, happiness, a renewed sense of energy. But the leftover twinges of pain pull me into the familiar worry of wondering - what is wrong with me - and how much time until it happens again.

On Gratitude

I've been thinking a lot about gratitude.

Louie Schwartzberg says:

"Beauty and seduction are nature's tool for survival because we protect what we fall in love with. It opens are hearts and makes us realize we are a part of nature, and we're not separate from it. When we see ourselves in nature it also connects us to everyone one of us, because its clear that its all connected in one."

Louie created a video about gratitude and its connection to happiness. His images of nature through the eyes of both a child and an elderly man just warms my heart

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gXDMoiEkyuQ

I've been thinking a lot about gratitude, not because of nature, but because of Marvin. I read this quote the other day:

"We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures."

There have been countless moments in the past 11 months where I have found myself in a state of complete happiness. Almost immediately following this bliss - I feel an overwhelming panic of what would happen if it were to be taken away. I can't stop myself; one feeling always, eventually, leads to the other.

Marvin tells me this feeling is fear. And the only thing to replace the fear with is gratitude. Somehow I never thought about this before. Now, it is in each moment where I feel an undeniable sense of happiness, I am able to ultimately identify my true feelings: gratitude.

Long Beach sunset, third date with Marvin, December 2011

The Farmers Market

Marvin is typically next to me when I wake up on Saturday mornings, and our favorite thing to do is lay in bed for hours. Hours. Talking, watching funny youtube videos... whatever. The feeling of NOT having to get up is irreplaceable.

But when he's not here I always take advantage of my second favorite Saturday morning activity: The Farmer's Market.

I am lucky to have a year round FM one block over - in the church parking lot from 8am-2pm every Saturday. There's just something about the open bins of brightly colored pesticide-free fruits and vegetables, ice coolers filled with organic beef, poultry, and fish, and the unforgettable smell of fresh apple cider.

More often than not, I just wander around grazing my fingers over all the produce, asking stand owners questions as if I am going to buy. Picturing the delicious soups and side dishes I could cook up in my kitchen. But then I leave and head straight over to Oren's coffee to get my small skim latte with very processed vanilla syrup.

But today I just couldn't resist. The tall bright green leeks sat bundled next to the white stumpy cauliflower bunches and called out: Cauliflower Leek soup! The tart green Granny Smith apples yelled: Dip me and almond butter and take a bite! The fresh clams, on sale, whispered "Simmer me, steam me, whatever you'd like.

Its not every day that food speaks to me. So today I just had to give in.