I've been trying to be all philosophical about the crazy migraines I've been getting just about everyday. (Quick aside, I'm seeing lots of doctors and alternative practitioners, so no need to worry about my not getting the care I need.) I've been trying to think of them the way I think of Rufus, my insanely cute though very annoying puppy--that they will teach me patience, and to slow down.
But the thing is, I don't want to slow down. And slowing down because you're in pain and lack energy is not enjoyable in the way that slowing down because you want to take some time off to just veg is. I get frustrated when I look at the sweater I want to get back to knitting. Or when I look at the cut outs that line my dining room table just waiting to be put onto the mobile I am creating. Or when I think about the many blog posts I've half-written in my head. And don't get me started about my poor, abandoned journal. Or the stack of books collecting dust on my nightstand. Thinking about them makes me want to cry.
I know, I know. I need to rest as much as I need to. All these projects will be there, waiting for me when I get better. That's what I would tell a friend if she were in my shoes. But I didn't appreciate before this experience how frustrating it is not to be able to do what you want to do, when you want to do it. And none of the advice I would give my friend/my self acknowledges that fact.
So, that's where I am, moving at a frustratingly slow pace and hating every minute of it. So as not to end on a complete downer, here's a pic of that insanely cute dog who is teaching me to be patient, and who is a much kinder teacher than head pain. (He's the gray one, Chloe is the black lab)