This can’t be me I think sometimes. This is just the pain. The fatigue. This isn’t me. I am smart and articulate. I am not here anymore. And I don’t know where I went.
This can’t be me I think sometimes. I had goals and ambitions. I wanted to get my phd and teach philosophy. Those days are so long ago and that person is long gone. Replaced with a realistic person who just wanted a job she could hold down. I was proud I could make that into a career but I yearned for that abstract theories and research life I had to leave behind. That part of me I had to crush in order to survive.
This can’t be me I think sometimes when the pain consumed everything and it exceeded my ability to cope. Took my desire to live. Took my job that I struggled to hold onto just to hold onto something.
Where am I, I wonder? Do I exist in those small pain gaps? But no those have the fatigue constant from this battle and the post-migraine and the pre-migraine. No, there is very little me to be found there. But more than when the migraine hits and my brain function declines.
I exist in the constant state of pain flux, neurological chaos and fatigue. My personality itself is dimmed by it but clearest in the pain gaps. If I have the energy. Is this who I am? Just a constant flux of pain and neurological symptoms distorting my perception of existence and my ability to function in reality?
How can I be my authentic self when my self cannot even come out to play? How can I find a way to exist well in this chaos when there is no stability?
You have to wonder. You have to wonder because if you get just one migraine free day… it is like a cloud lifts from your brain. There is this massive amount of clarity that descends upon you. You can truly see the world. You can truly comprehend people. You can truly remember what they say. You can think straight. You can absorb massive amounts of information and use it just as quickly. And you realize This is how your brain ought to work. Without brain fog and glitches and thinking through pain.
And then it is gone. You are sucked back into this vagueness of brain fog and never getting all you can from your enviroment because pain makes you focus on what is directly in front of you. Ah, and, you lose so much to the haze of pain. So many memories become so vague.
I do not mourn the me of the past. The past is gone. Yes, I made compromises to survive. I survived so it worked. I just wonder how be me in this existence I have now. This me. How can this me be more than just this illness. How can I form a self-hood from all this hazy chaos.
The only authentic me through pain, or at least the lower levels.. is the me that laughs and acts goofy with my spouse despite it, or even because it… I do believe laughter is the best medicine for my spirit anyway. And that is authentically me. I am a goofy person who loves to laugh at goofy things.
And the other authentic me is the me that writes. And writes about everything. I write to understand myself, this illness, my experience of this illness and I write fiction. But while this is authentically me I wish that my illness did not get in the way of it with the endless fatigue and higher levels of pain. Or I would find more productive ways to make an income from this. I am just too exhausted to think of them. I am sure that is partly from the depression I fight from time to time.
Otherwise, I fight to be me. I fight to be more than Fatigue and Pain. They press down on me and repress all that I am. Dulling all of that which has always defined me as me.
|A moment free of sunglasses and a hat. Wow.|