The headache? It’s baaaaaaack. It started yesterday. Even after the pounding stopped I felt a tingling pool at the base of my neck, like my brain was floating loosely just under the skin. I took the day off from work today—I never use my sick days—but I have them, and I suppose they are meant to be used. This means that I also didn’t write today, not a word. This is not about what may or may not be medically wrong with me. Rather, I think my brain is trying to tell me something more symbolic…
It is not happy. Not with where we are (and by we I mean me, the person; and the brain inside me, which wants me to be a better person than I am, and constantly berates me for my shortcomings). Not with what we’re spending our days doing. Not with the plans that keep falling apart.
I don’t feel stressed out, but maybe I am and I just didn’t notice it. I must be putting pressure on myself when I’m sleeping: YOU ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH. YOU ARE NOT READING ENOUGH. YOU ARE NOT WRITING ENOUGH. YOU MAKE TOO MANY EXCUSES. YOU MAKE ME SICK.
All that caps-lock screaming would give anyone a headache. No wonder my brain is coming loose.