I'm sorry you ended up with a migraine so soon after being able to resume your normal activities post-skating injury, Rita. I hope this is a better week for you.
Thank you for this week's words and for posting all these links. Pavlovitz’s essay is spot on, and Kirsten Power's article has reminded me of what Dr. Nicole LePera ("the holistic psychologist" on IG) says about traditional psychiatry—that it often pathologizes normal responses to trauma.
Thank you, Marian. I appreciate the good wishes. I'm discovering that TBI headache is different from migraine, but often turns into one. I think there's so much we don't really understand about pain and trauma and mental health. Some of my discarded words were about parhologizing rational responses to stress and harm. My insurance company required me to go on medication in order to continue coverage for therapy, despite my therapist saying I didn't need it. Some depression is situational, and what we need to get better is support. I refused to take meds I didn't need, and lost access to my therapist's support. That created a different kind of harm. Argh!
I thought it was pretty outrageous, too. In that period I learned how to lean on friends and family for support. The main thing that helped was changing the situations that I could change (which I had already been doing with the therapist's support, but I was very much in-progress on all that!)
I'm so sorry about your wrist and tbi--I'm glad to hear you are starting to get better. So much of what you write resonates with me. The past few years have been challenging, to say the least, and I too am currently living a toddler lifestyle after herniating another disc and having two pulmonary embolisms for Christmas. I have largely given up twitter, the news, and most social media in an attempt to keep the existential dread at bay. I feel like my body recognizes the danger and it is real--it just isn't going to kill us right this minute.
On that cheery note, I hope your tbi heals soon. I'm glad I have rediscovered your writing :-)
I have known just a little about your medical challenges, and I am so sorry for all you've been dealing with and going through. I know my experience has been milder--but just enough for me to understand exactly what you are saying. I feel a constant push-pull with the world. I can't figure out how to be in it, just like I so often can't figure out how to manage my physical healing. I typically try too much and then have a setback (like I did last week). And thank you for validating my perception that the danger is real.
Oh, friend, I understand pain and the many emotions that come with it. I love the concept of somatic tracking, and I realize I've been doing it instinctively for a long time when I'm in a migraine cycle. I watch what I eat, isolate myself from the outside world, listen to binaural beat music, and so on. I'm going to Google it after I leave this comment.
And I'm so buried in my grief right now that I can't think of anything else. But I do get what you are saying here. ❤️
I sure hope my words didn't suggest that more typical grief is somehow easier. I think it's easier to see and understand, but much harder to bear. I'm thinking of you all the time. I wouldn't expect you to be thinking of much else right now. ❤️🩹
Your liking of my recent post brought me over to your post. I appreciate your writing and have a couple of thoughts.
When I provided services to a lot of students with TBIs from athletics and/or bike accidents on campus, so often, the students would try to do too much too soon and end up prolonging their recovery.
The same was true for students who had various chronic illnesses; when they were feeling good at the beginning of the quarter, they would take on too much and crash and burn by the end of the quarter. Some of those students would eventually take the reduced course load I had supported for them and were able to minimize their crashes.
So, forgive me if I speak to you like a student.😊 From what you said in your essay, it just sounds like you're perpetually taking on too much—both tangibly and philosophically (the state of the world). Our culture is constantly pressuring us to “do more and be more” and praise those who “overcome” their disabilities. (The Overcomer syndrome is a whole thing.)
It may be that you will need to take it down a notch all the time to avoid the cycle of busy-pain-quiet repeat. I have had a lifetime of practice at this, so I have an advantage!
Thank you for taking the time to read and respond so thoughtfully. We're never to old to get schooled, are we? I really appreciate you sharing your wisdom with me. I basically had the same conversation with my doctor a few weeks back. I asked her if she could give me some kind of protocol, so I could know what I could do and when. She said it's different for everyone, and that I most likely needed to add things back more slowly.
I think I just really struggled this week with the place I'm at in recovery. I'm not all better, but I'm better enough that my brain wants to be occupied. What better thing to fill it than all the troubles of the world? :-) I sure do recognize the busy-pain-quiet cycle--that's migraine, for sure. I am really working on taking it down a notch. I quit full-time work 2.5 years ago. Clearly, I've got more room to grow.
I'm guessing those students were very lucky to have you.
I just now saw your response to my comment. I am glad you weren’t offended.
I think it is human nature that we all want to put alike things in nice, tidy boxes. But, as your doctor said, every body is different (even if they have the same diagnoses). In my former job, I was able to stress this point over and over with students, faculty, and administrators.
Ah, Rita. If only we could address one thing at a time and recover fully before moving on. But, the world does not work that way -- or is it us who don't? I attended a funeral for someone close to my husband the same day I learned of my own father's death. Afterwards, I went to the grocery store, and it was as though the world was a documentary playing out around me, with me watching on a screen. AND those are just the "normal" kinds of grieving! All that to say, I hear you on the not knowing how to heal completely when it seems the injuries keep coming.
I do think you have the right instincts: Focus on what is within your sphere of influence. Small projects. Sun. Family. A heart of compassion. Try to let the rest go until you see a clear path to how you can support something more.
I think it is the world that does not work that way. And us (or me, at least): Events don't happen once and end; they come back to us again and again. I think we absorb injuries and losses, but we don't necessarily move on--so by the time we have a good number of years under our belts, we have an accumulation of grief. Well, that sounds bleak, doesn't it?
I'm so sorry for the loss of your dad on top of the loss of another important person. Seems natural that just one of those losses would be disorienting. Isn't it so strange when your personal world is shattered but the larger one around you just keeps humming along as it always does? I had a similar experience once in a craft store, during the time my marriage was ending. I felt in a daze, wondering why we have whole stores dedicated to frivolous things no one needs, and I felt completely separate from all the other people in it. Almost like a Twilight Zone experience.
Thank you for the suggestions and care. They are very much appreciated.
Your essay really resonated with me. I found parallels with the fatigue I experience on a chronic basis. I’ve been researching nervous system regulation to see if it can help. I have thought about exactly what you described with feeling safe. I am safe in my home with my family. But when I look out into the wider world it’s hard to feel that a sense of safety right now. I feel I’m almost lying to myself, which then doesn’t make my body feel safe either. It is a hard one to navigate. I keep coming back to acknowledging what is and trying to find safety within, that doesn’t mean I just end up stuck at home. It’s a tricky one to navigate. I thought you captured it well in your essay.
It must have felt frustrating having to rest again after you were starting to be able to do more after your injury. I really related to having to stay at home but wanting more. I do get lonely and fed up when I can’t go out much. It can be hard to figure out what the right balance is. I hope you have a better week this week and can find the right balance for you. It is a tricky one to navigate, so I greatly appreciate you writing about it. It makes me feel less alone with it all. Thank you.
And your comment here helps me feel less alone. I understand that feeling of almost lying to yourself. I want to be a person in the world. I want to know what is happening in it. I want to do my part to be a good actor in it. When I retreat from it to care for myself, it's hard to do those things. It is really hard to find a balance that honors and cares for competing wants/needs. Instead of walking through the world in a more steady way, I yo-yo between heavy engagement and retreat. Writing this, I realize I also yo-yo between seeing myself as healthy and ill. Your words (both here and in your recent writing on Creative Spirits) along with Teri Adams's (above) have me understanding that I need to think more deeply about illness and disability as those things apply to me.
Yes I feel I yo-yo between both those situations too. I struggle with finding a steadiness. I did find it helpful reading Teri’s comment. On good days I find it hard to hold back. There is almost a sense of trying to catch up. I soon see myself as well and should be doing all the things. But the fatigue then soon comes knocking. I really need to put more of a steady plan in place. I find planning the school holidays the hardest to do. I always end up pushing myself, as I want to do things with my son, and my husband doesn’t have enough holiday to cover it all. Grandparents can help some of the time at least. One to think about!
Rita, it is so lovely to read your writing. I'm so grateful that you didn't leave it in drafts. As a fellow migraneur, this resonated so, so deeply with me. And I also live in that discomfort and tension, recognizing that things are so broken in our culture, and also feeling so very small to do anything but tend to my little plot of life. Thank you for offering this reflection, it's such a beautiful offering of solidarity.
Thank you, Meg. I really appreciate you taking the time to let me know that this post resonated for you. I'm sorry to hear that you are a migraineur, too. What a lousy club to belong to--though there are so many great people in it! I really want to believe that tending to my little plot of life is enough. I do, in my rational, conscious brain. It knows how important that is, and that it can have ripple effects beyond our plots. I think that if most of us would do that, the world could be such a different place. But on some other, deeper level, that never feels like enough. Especially now.
I'm sorry you ended up with a migraine so soon after being able to resume your normal activities post-skating injury, Rita. I hope this is a better week for you.
Thank you for this week's words and for posting all these links. Pavlovitz’s essay is spot on, and Kirsten Power's article has reminded me of what Dr. Nicole LePera ("the holistic psychologist" on IG) says about traditional psychiatry—that it often pathologizes normal responses to trauma.
Thank you, Marian. I appreciate the good wishes. I'm discovering that TBI headache is different from migraine, but often turns into one. I think there's so much we don't really understand about pain and trauma and mental health. Some of my discarded words were about parhologizing rational responses to stress and harm. My insurance company required me to go on medication in order to continue coverage for therapy, despite my therapist saying I didn't need it. Some depression is situational, and what we need to get better is support. I refused to take meds I didn't need, and lost access to my therapist's support. That created a different kind of harm. Argh!
Your insurance company's stance seems outrageous to me, Rita. I hope you've been able to find at least some of the support you need elsewhere.
I thought it was pretty outrageous, too. In that period I learned how to lean on friends and family for support. The main thing that helped was changing the situations that I could change (which I had already been doing with the therapist's support, but I was very much in-progress on all that!)
I'm so sorry about your wrist and tbi--I'm glad to hear you are starting to get better. So much of what you write resonates with me. The past few years have been challenging, to say the least, and I too am currently living a toddler lifestyle after herniating another disc and having two pulmonary embolisms for Christmas. I have largely given up twitter, the news, and most social media in an attempt to keep the existential dread at bay. I feel like my body recognizes the danger and it is real--it just isn't going to kill us right this minute.
On that cheery note, I hope your tbi heals soon. I'm glad I have rediscovered your writing :-)
I have known just a little about your medical challenges, and I am so sorry for all you've been dealing with and going through. I know my experience has been milder--but just enough for me to understand exactly what you are saying. I feel a constant push-pull with the world. I can't figure out how to be in it, just like I so often can't figure out how to manage my physical healing. I typically try too much and then have a setback (like I did last week). And thank you for validating my perception that the danger is real.
Oh, friend, I understand pain and the many emotions that come with it. I love the concept of somatic tracking, and I realize I've been doing it instinctively for a long time when I'm in a migraine cycle. I watch what I eat, isolate myself from the outside world, listen to binaural beat music, and so on. I'm going to Google it after I leave this comment.
And I'm so buried in my grief right now that I can't think of anything else. But I do get what you are saying here. ❤️
I sure hope my words didn't suggest that more typical grief is somehow easier. I think it's easier to see and understand, but much harder to bear. I'm thinking of you all the time. I wouldn't expect you to be thinking of much else right now. ❤️🩹
Omg, not at all! 😘❤️
Your liking of my recent post brought me over to your post. I appreciate your writing and have a couple of thoughts.
When I provided services to a lot of students with TBIs from athletics and/or bike accidents on campus, so often, the students would try to do too much too soon and end up prolonging their recovery.
The same was true for students who had various chronic illnesses; when they were feeling good at the beginning of the quarter, they would take on too much and crash and burn by the end of the quarter. Some of those students would eventually take the reduced course load I had supported for them and were able to minimize their crashes.
So, forgive me if I speak to you like a student.😊 From what you said in your essay, it just sounds like you're perpetually taking on too much—both tangibly and philosophically (the state of the world). Our culture is constantly pressuring us to “do more and be more” and praise those who “overcome” their disabilities. (The Overcomer syndrome is a whole thing.)
It may be that you will need to take it down a notch all the time to avoid the cycle of busy-pain-quiet repeat. I have had a lifetime of practice at this, so I have an advantage!
Thank you for taking the time to read and respond so thoughtfully. We're never to old to get schooled, are we? I really appreciate you sharing your wisdom with me. I basically had the same conversation with my doctor a few weeks back. I asked her if she could give me some kind of protocol, so I could know what I could do and when. She said it's different for everyone, and that I most likely needed to add things back more slowly.
I think I just really struggled this week with the place I'm at in recovery. I'm not all better, but I'm better enough that my brain wants to be occupied. What better thing to fill it than all the troubles of the world? :-) I sure do recognize the busy-pain-quiet cycle--that's migraine, for sure. I am really working on taking it down a notch. I quit full-time work 2.5 years ago. Clearly, I've got more room to grow.
I'm guessing those students were very lucky to have you.
I just now saw your response to my comment. I am glad you weren’t offended.
I think it is human nature that we all want to put alike things in nice, tidy boxes. But, as your doctor said, every body is different (even if they have the same diagnoses). In my former job, I was able to stress this point over and over with students, faculty, and administrators.
Ah, Rita. If only we could address one thing at a time and recover fully before moving on. But, the world does not work that way -- or is it us who don't? I attended a funeral for someone close to my husband the same day I learned of my own father's death. Afterwards, I went to the grocery store, and it was as though the world was a documentary playing out around me, with me watching on a screen. AND those are just the "normal" kinds of grieving! All that to say, I hear you on the not knowing how to heal completely when it seems the injuries keep coming.
I do think you have the right instincts: Focus on what is within your sphere of influence. Small projects. Sun. Family. A heart of compassion. Try to let the rest go until you see a clear path to how you can support something more.
Take care...!
I think it is the world that does not work that way. And us (or me, at least): Events don't happen once and end; they come back to us again and again. I think we absorb injuries and losses, but we don't necessarily move on--so by the time we have a good number of years under our belts, we have an accumulation of grief. Well, that sounds bleak, doesn't it?
I'm so sorry for the loss of your dad on top of the loss of another important person. Seems natural that just one of those losses would be disorienting. Isn't it so strange when your personal world is shattered but the larger one around you just keeps humming along as it always does? I had a similar experience once in a craft store, during the time my marriage was ending. I felt in a daze, wondering why we have whole stores dedicated to frivolous things no one needs, and I felt completely separate from all the other people in it. Almost like a Twilight Zone experience.
Thank you for the suggestions and care. They are very much appreciated.
Your essay really resonated with me. I found parallels with the fatigue I experience on a chronic basis. I’ve been researching nervous system regulation to see if it can help. I have thought about exactly what you described with feeling safe. I am safe in my home with my family. But when I look out into the wider world it’s hard to feel that a sense of safety right now. I feel I’m almost lying to myself, which then doesn’t make my body feel safe either. It is a hard one to navigate. I keep coming back to acknowledging what is and trying to find safety within, that doesn’t mean I just end up stuck at home. It’s a tricky one to navigate. I thought you captured it well in your essay.
It must have felt frustrating having to rest again after you were starting to be able to do more after your injury. I really related to having to stay at home but wanting more. I do get lonely and fed up when I can’t go out much. It can be hard to figure out what the right balance is. I hope you have a better week this week and can find the right balance for you. It is a tricky one to navigate, so I greatly appreciate you writing about it. It makes me feel less alone with it all. Thank you.
And your comment here helps me feel less alone. I understand that feeling of almost lying to yourself. I want to be a person in the world. I want to know what is happening in it. I want to do my part to be a good actor in it. When I retreat from it to care for myself, it's hard to do those things. It is really hard to find a balance that honors and cares for competing wants/needs. Instead of walking through the world in a more steady way, I yo-yo between heavy engagement and retreat. Writing this, I realize I also yo-yo between seeing myself as healthy and ill. Your words (both here and in your recent writing on Creative Spirits) along with Teri Adams's (above) have me understanding that I need to think more deeply about illness and disability as those things apply to me.
Yes I feel I yo-yo between both those situations too. I struggle with finding a steadiness. I did find it helpful reading Teri’s comment. On good days I find it hard to hold back. There is almost a sense of trying to catch up. I soon see myself as well and should be doing all the things. But the fatigue then soon comes knocking. I really need to put more of a steady plan in place. I find planning the school holidays the hardest to do. I always end up pushing myself, as I want to do things with my son, and my husband doesn’t have enough holiday to cover it all. Grandparents can help some of the time at least. One to think about!
Rita, it is so lovely to read your writing. I'm so grateful that you didn't leave it in drafts. As a fellow migraneur, this resonated so, so deeply with me. And I also live in that discomfort and tension, recognizing that things are so broken in our culture, and also feeling so very small to do anything but tend to my little plot of life. Thank you for offering this reflection, it's such a beautiful offering of solidarity.
Thank you, Meg. I really appreciate you taking the time to let me know that this post resonated for you. I'm sorry to hear that you are a migraineur, too. What a lousy club to belong to--though there are so many great people in it! I really want to believe that tending to my little plot of life is enough. I do, in my rational, conscious brain. It knows how important that is, and that it can have ripple effects beyond our plots. I think that if most of us would do that, the world could be such a different place. But on some other, deeper level, that never feels like enough. Especially now.
Never feels like enough - yes, exactly
Migraines scare me, truth be known. I feel you're a strong person to deal with them and then write about them. Hoping you're doing better by now.
Pavlovitz is often the most reasonable voice around. Thanks for the link to this article. Off to read it now.