How Birding by Ear Helps Me Embrace Change
Discover the transformative journey of birding by ear and how it offers lessons in mindfulness, resilience, and embracing change.
Discover the transformative journey of birding by ear and how it offers lessons in mindfulness, resilience, and embracing change.
On the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year, the moon and waves are at play. The tide gets real, real low just before… Read More »Illness and The Quiet In Between
Sometimes the best help for chronic migraines is practical help from a teacher who knows how to live with pain. Resources for coping with pain and illness.
Happy birthday to Virginia Woolf, one of the first souls brave enough to look sickness in the face. She’s a muse, although tragic, and a pioneer for sick girls and Migraine writing.
2017 was a crap year for most of us. These top five books to soothe your soul will help wash off the past 12 months so you can greet 2018 refreshed!
During the past four years, I’ve learned many lessons in how to live with chronic migraines. I delve into the most important, most freeing, lesson.
Not all of the friends lost because of chronic illness are made of flesh The backs of shampoo bottles. Street signs and shop names. Catalogs… Read More »Life Without Books: Mourning My Migraine Sacrifice
“Fear – fear’s a powerful thing. I mean, it’s got a lot of firepower. If you can figure out how to wrestle that fear to… Read More »All in a Day’s Work: How to Use the Power of Music to Conquer Pain
When I first began writing this article I titled it “4 Lessons Learned and 4 Things I Struggle With After 4 Years of Chronic Pain.” Only after I finished the first paragraph did I realize that it has only been three years since I have been in chronic pain. Time becomes a fluid, sticky substance when you are sick. Night and day blur into one long, sleepy and sleepless period of temples pounding and stomach churning. The light is abrasive to my eyes so it’s dark all of the time anyway. I sleep when I can, almost eliminating night and day.
At least, that is how it was – for longer than I would like to consider. Things are slowly, very slowly, becoming more normal. I’m becoming more diurnal, going to sleep early and rising
early. My brain benefits from the routine and the normalcy even if my social life does not .
Managing migraines is a bitch, as I am a learning. A bitch that requires commitment to lifestyle changes that are not for the faint of heart. Willpower has never been my strong point (I’ve been a nail biter as long as I’ve had teeth), but I’m exercising that muscle as much as I can these days. I feel strong and powerful and healthy, if not boring and monotonous. I have also recently adopted a sickly, high-maintenance kitten and continue to care for my elderly cat named Kitten, thereby cementing my transition to full on cat lady.
At least, it is all paying off. My quality of life is improving, my sensitivity to light and sound is decreasing, and my average daily pain level is slowly getting smaller. These gains do not come without lessons and struggles, however.
Read More »3 Lessons and 3 Challenges After 3 Years of Chronic Illness
A flash of nostalgia came over me as I picked up the yellow towel on the couch and hung it up. I remembered my nephew flinging it aside last night the moment he got out of the bath, his long hair dripping on his small, cold shoulders. I saw the same image two nights ago when we planted in his garden after his bath. He seems impervious to the cold and intent on getting dirty, too excited to put on a shirt before grabbing his small yellow hoe. We had meant to plant during the afternoon of course, but my sister, his mom, is a self proclaimed hater of the wind and the palm trees in Southern California have been extra vocal this week.
My head throbs now when I hold the yellow towel just as it did when I watched his dear shoulders guide the yellow hoe through a path in his garden. I don’t notice too much. It isn’t too bright or loud, and every day I am learning to be calmer and gentler with myself.
I am trying to be patient with my body, giving it the time and space it needs to heal, and making an effort to enjoy every moment spent with my family.
My shoulders were even smaller than my six-year-old-nephew’s are now when I experienced my first migraine attack. I was three years old and just recovering from a nasty bout with the chicken pox when I experienced excruciating nausea and head pain. To this day I remember not wanting to watch Beauty and the Beast because the television hurt my eyes and how that fact scared me. At that period in my life, like so many budding bookworms in the early 90s, it was a serious emergency if I was too sick to watch Belle tell off Gaston.
Once I vomited (my greatest fear at that young time) the pain subsided a bit and I was able to sleep, but the attacks were not over. I experienced two more in the following weeks which meant a trip to Dr. Dias, my favorite pediatrician, a gentle Indian man with soft hands and incredibly blue eyes.
I have heard my mother tell the story of my toddler migraine attacks to several neurologists and doctors over the years, and she always includes this exchange:
Mom: Please don’t tell me she has migraines.
Dr. Dias: I can tell you these aren’t migraines, but they are migraines.
I now pronounce you diagnosed.
I don’t remember much about being three but most of it revolved around the back yard and my little sister and playing in the sprinklers. It’s easy as an adult to conjure up feelings of goodwill, love, and empathy alongside an image your toddler self. When you picture your young self ill or frightened the desire to comfort is strong and natural. But as we get older, thanks to society or nature or both, that desire fades and sacrificing our health for success, money, convenience, the happiness of others, fill-in-the-blank, is the norm. Whether you’re stuck inside with a chronic illness 23 hours a day or just doing what you need to do to make your day a little easier, each of us could benefit from looking in on that young self every once in a while.
Read More »Baby’s First Migraine Attacks: Three-Year-Old Me Gets a Life Sentence