The Wheels on the Bus

So, I'm siting on the bus last night, and I really think I might be sick. 

I don't often get nausea with my headaches, but yesterday was one of those unusual days. I thought it was because I was hungry, when I got it on the way home from London. But I'd eaten, and now it's that dinner I'm threatening to revisit.

And I'm wondering what the hell I'm doing. I'm still going out to the cinema even though I've felt rough all day. When I got home I went straight upstairs and did some mindfulness. And in those moments of quiet my head threatened to get worse. The throbbing quickened, sharpened. And then it calmed. 
But then as I did some washing up, it tightened. I almost burst into tears at sheer frustration. Then I took a few deep breaths, hardened my resolve, and carried on.

And now I was sitting on the bus, feeling sick and getting awful sharp pulses in my neck - my neck! - that were only adding to the deep aching that had spent most of the day in the right side of my head, but now for some reason was residing in the left temple. 
A drink or two, and then two hours in a dark room with bright lights on a big screen and loud noises all around. Just what the doctor didn't order.

But you know what?
My head got bearable halfway through my first rum and coke. And whilst I was aware of the pain, I was too distracted to pay attention to it. 
It was bearable throughout the movie. 
And outside, it only reared ugly, aching, nauseous head again when I had to run like a superhero for the bus. 

So there I was - again - sitting on a bus, with a pounding head and that feeling in my mouth that you get just before you vomit.
But I didn't. I got home. I took my pills. I went to bed.

And today is another day. Today is another day of fighting my head. Fighting for a pain free life. 
Fighting for myself. 

Irreparably Damaged

On Friday night, I went to bed at half 10, because my head hurt.
I woke up on Saturday feeling almost as fresh as a daisy - as fresh as a person with chronic pain and muscle tension can feel. My head felt fine, better than fine - it felt great. 
Until it didn't. 

It was about 11am, I think, when it started hurting. I still managed to tidy the garage up. 
And it got to 3pm when I decided to have a nap, hoping I could sleep it away. 
When I got up at 6pm, I felt better.
Until I didn't, again. 

It's on these days when you feel there is no hope. When you feel as though you are going through a constant cycle, on a rollercoaster, through continual ups and downs. A ride you're not enjoying, but you can't get off.

It grinds you down in the end. It grinds you down and wears you out and you become exhausted.
Even though in the morning I felt really pretty good, last night it didn't seem like there would ever be anything different. Like my life would never be anything but pain.

And I started to think: this is my brain causing this. This pain may not just reside in my head - it may spread to my neck and shoulders and down my back and into my hips, but it starts there. And the brain is the nerve centre for the body, telling it what to do, keeping it functioning. 

And mine seems to be damaged. 
I am damaged. 

Probably irreparably.

And I'm supposed to come to terms with that?