I almost always have a headache. Always have had. Most are a very tolerable throbbing that I only notice when I have time to stop and realize that I'm clenching my teeth to bear the pain. Others are a less tolerable thumping that forces me to take four Aleve to wipe out.

Then there are the fuzzy, steamy headaches that don't really hurt as much as the thumping, pounding ones but, certainly, get my attention a whole lot faster. And this is why: they are the precursor to my migraines. Through high school and college I was on daily medication to control the migraines that I would frequently get but was able to stop taking after I had my son, Justin. The chemical change he created in my body seemed to change the frequency of them. They became even less frequent after the birth of my daughter, Jordan. So much so that I have gone from having them at least once a month to, now, having, maybe, one a year.

Today, my head is fuzzy and steamy. I've been eating Aleve all morning trying to control it before it becomes this thing that consumes me. I'm a relatively healthy person. My family, it seems, always has a list of things that keep them under the weather or on their sick beds, and I've reveled in how different I am from them in that respect. My migraines are my one set back. Yes, of course, I am grateful that their frequency has changed and I don't walk around anticipating that crushing blow to my head, but when they sneak up on me, I fight them off with the fervency that others might attempt to ward off the black plague.

I never know if they are going to keep me down for one day or four. I don't know when all of the dots (yes, I see brightly colored dots when I have migraines) are going to go away- along with the pain so intense that every slight movement or subtle sound forces a tear to roll from the corners of my eyes. I don't know when I will be able to pick myself off of the cold tiles of my floor (something that strangely comforts me while my head is exploding) and look forward to that nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach to arrive and for the steamy, fuzzy feeling in my head to return- signaling the near end of my torture. >

"The best bridge between despair and hope is a good night's sleep."

--Anonymous

The thing that I could kick myself for is that I think I've brought this on myself. I've not slept this little since I was in college and was on the verge of a breakdown, only slightly induced by sleep deprivation. Rather than enduring what would be my normal insomnia, I've been forcing myself awake to get this new house in order as quickly as possible. And, yes, I know, I shouldn't be doing that but I have anyway. I've needed the distraction. I've needed the order. I've needed this new beginning. Right now, though, I just need some sleep.

Well, I'm going to go. Four more Aleve are calling my name. If I don't get this under control now, I don't know what I'll do.

"I reached for sleep and drew it round me like a blanket muffling pain and thought together in the merciful dark"

--Mary Stewart English novelist, The Hollow Hills, 1973

12:09 p.m. - 2003-08-14

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