Yohannon (yohannon) wrote,

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Not Tonight, Dear...

Yup, I should be asleep. It's after 1 AM, yet I dare to risk writing whilst tired, a sure road to perdition... or at least annoying the crap out of everyone.

It turns out that I had a full blown migraine yesterday... well, Tuesday, since it is now officially Thursday. I don't get the full range of agonizing migraine fun very often (praise goddess!), but when I do...

If you are fortunate not to suffer from the damn things, consider yourself lucky. Pain? Hell, I can deal with PAIN. Light sensitivity can be annoying, but blinking in the glare of the noonday sun after spending the night geeking out with hardware or fellow geeks is not unfamiliar to me.

Even the nausea is not all THAT horrible. But, all together, combined with the feeling that your body isn't completely under your control (at one point you would swear that you were having a stroke, or perhaps already had one), and you do what I do. You go home and medicate yourself into oblivion so you can crawl into bed with one of those goofy sleeping masks (it's Roni's, ok?) and passing out for 8 hours, to be discovered by the aforementioned Roni as she arrived home from work.

All in all I think I clocked in a solid 18 hours asleep Tuesday. I think my post that day was the most mental activity I was capable of. Unfortunately, it meant I had none to spare on the drive home. The Goddess watches over children, drunks and fools, so I managed to crawl up the stairs to Chez Watt more or less intact.

Today I've almost completely recovered. If I somehow find myself trapped amongst the neurological seizure that is migraine pain, sleep usually fixes it. A lot of sleep.

Yet even recovered (even the last vestiges of the week before last in the form of the nasty burn on my arm finished healing whilst I was comatose) I still am prone to the emotional debris that such events tend to scatter.

For example, I miss lindygale and willowstand. Making matters worse was hearing about Cynthia McQuillin's death, which makes you ponder the transient nature of life itself -- as if I wasn't forced to confront that enough after Linda died.

Of course, then I saw wickedladybear's wonderful poem about Cynthia dying, so then I was thinking about HER as well. And I haven't even gotten to bunnybutt, who seems to have neither the bandwidth or the strength to squeeze me in for dinner, much less anything resembling a relationship. ,

Leave it to Yo: Most people have the good grace to trigger their migraines with stress or depression. I like to save time and do it the other way around.

I can only remind myself of the good things in my life, and to try to not dwell on the things I have no control over. The people not in my life choose not to be, and constantly mourning their absence is a fools game.

Of course, I just mentioned those the goddess protects, and since I'm neither drunk nor a child (though some would debate whether my mental age is qualification enough for the latter!), I suppose my fool status can be taken as read.

I can also take solace in that, as bad as this is, it doesn't TOUCH my state of mind a mere three weeks ago. Damned by faint consolation that may be, it's something in the "it ain't all that bad!" column. Though there's it's less admirable cousin, "Sour Grapes", that LOOKS like a positive list... until you read the snark between the lines as I toss my unrequited yearning to hear... to feel... the many people I've managed to push away from me for one reason or another.

Alrighty, I just deleted my last three attempts at the next paragraph as too bitchy even for my current pissy state of mind. I'll take that as a sign that I should shut the fuck up and step away from the keyboard...
Tags: personal
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