Posts Tagged ‘headache’

My Head is Full

April 23, 2019

Like so full.

So much stuff in there.

I have a touch of a headache.

This sometimes will happen when I have been trying to shove too much information into my brain and it just can’t take any more in.

Over the weekend I had to address a lot of homework and do a lot of research.

The research went well, the paper got written, eleven pages thank you very much, but I was still behind.

Not by a lot.

But by enough to make me a feel a touch chagrined with myself.

I had completely missed out a weeks discussion in one of my classes.

I figured out how today when I realized I had read all the chapters well in advance of the discussion and some part of my brain just thought I was totally ahead of the curve.

Plus.

I had met with the professor of the class last week and I just presumed to myself without checking into the actual syllabus that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

I think unconsciously I let myself do it.

I tend to post well thought out, referenced, worded well, well supported, thoughtful post.s

I am typically one of the first people in my classes to respond to a post prompting and I am pretty open and transparent with the work I do, how I am in the world and what is happening personally.

My cohort knows I went through a break up two months ago.

My cohort knows I had shingles.

My cohort knows I juggle a full-time PhD program with full time nannying and a roster of clients, I’m seeing ten this week.

I’m busy.

I dropped the ball in one of my classes.

I can also see that I had a stupendous busy week last week nannying.

The two older kids were on Spring Break and their grandmother has been visiting.

I did not have any time, none at all, to spend on my homework.

I really do rely on getting in at least a couple of hours of work done during the week, sometimes, like today, I can actually even get in two hours of homework a day.

Not always, but anything helps.

Not having a spare minute or moment to do classwork last week put me behind and I didn’t even realize it until I was sitting in a cafe on Divisadero before my Saturday commitment this past weekend.

I literally thought I was going to burst into tears.

I had totally missed the deadline and I didn’t have the book with me that I needed to reference to have posted a discussion.

I made damn sure that came with me today.

I also had to just let it go.

I had to do research for the paper I wrote yesterday and I had to also do a big post for my Creative Arts and Leadership class.

I had to acknowledge that I wasn’t actually going to be able to do the discussion until today.

On top of that.

I have another paper due on Wednesday of this week.

So.

I got lucky.

I got really lucky at work.

Not only were the kids back to school, they had after school activities, I was basically alone the whole day with the littlest guy.

He didn’t have the biggest nap, but he had a long enough one that I did a 1,300 word discussion post with six references to the book in it and I responded to a classmates work as well.

I started looking over the work that I needed to gather up to do the next paper, the one that is due Wednesday, and I could feel my head getting a bit spun.

So.

Lunch break.

Sat down.

Looked outside.

Watched the sky.

Ate a nice meal.

Made some tea.

Got back in it and then the little guy woke up with one of those cries that says I’m not quite awake and something woke me up and I want to sleep more but I will need cuddles to do so.

You don’t know that one?

I gathered him up, snuggled him into my arms and he slept in my lap for another half hour.

It was enough to let my brain simmer down a little bit, but the pot is still dangerously full of stuff.

I went to a cafe in between work and my commitment tonight and I tried to do some more work and I managed to eke out a bit, but really, fuck, my head just said no way, no more.

It is at times like these that I do question what the fuck I am doing.

I know it will pass and I already feel like I have committed myself to it to stop now, but stopping, whoa, it might feel really nice.

When I get stuck I do tell myself to just focus on what can be done today, just today, that’s all I have anyway.

Today.

I did well.

Really.

I did and I need to acknowledge that.

I got caught up and I did the work that needed to be done to prepare for the next paper.

I have my books and notebook packed already for tomorrow with high hopes that I will get another good few hours without interruption at nap time.

It’s a smaller paper, just six pages, but it’s on theoretical framing, so, um, yeah, hella dry.

If I get two hours tomorrow I should be sitting really well.

I also had a client cancel tomorrow night, so I just have one after work.

I’ll lean into it and I’ll get it done.

In the mean time.

Fuck me.

I am tired.

I am in need of tea and a good mindless few minutes of a video that has nothing at all academic about it.

Seriously.

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Strange Little Day

December 29, 2017

I called in sick today.

Which is very, very, very rare for me.

However.

I was really, really, really sick.

I had begun to feel sick last night, in retrospect, I was coming down with a pretty bad headache, bad enough that I didn’t write my blog last night when I got back from my evening commitment.

Pretty unusual for me and when I think about it, pretty indicative of how bad I was feeling.

I don’t always let myself be sick.

Not like I really have a choice, but my brain seems to think that it does, that it can choose whether or not I’ll react to the illness.

Last night I made myself a cup of tea and a little snack and even while I was enjoying it I was not enjoying myself at all.

My head fucking hurt.

And.

I couldn’t take any ibuprofen.

Not since getting the diagnosis of silent reflux from my doctor and when we had gone through all the things I didn’t eat and she couldn’t figure out why the hell I had all the symptoms but wasn’t eating any of the foods that would cause it, she hit on it, almost by accident.

“Ibuprofen?”

Oh yeah.

I take a lot of that.

And pretty much I’m causing my stomach to bleed out, I’ve been ulcerating it causing the reflux, causing all the off again on again pain, which, yes, was probably also exacerbated by the stress of this past semester.

It was a touch stressful, yes, it fucking was.

Anyway.

I have a headache.

It’s rotten bad.

And.

I can’t take the only pain-killer I have in the house, ibuprofen.

I can take it and maybe alleviate my headache, but it will blow my stomach out of whack.

So I make the decision to just go to bed and try to sleep it off.

Like a fucking hangover, which, for the record, it’s been a long fucking time since I’ve had one of those, but that’s what it felt like I was doing, trying to sleep it off.

I was in bed by 10:15 p.m. and had the alarm set for 6:30 a.m.

I woke up once around 3 a.m. to use the loo and the headache was still there and pretty awful.

I stumbled back into bed and prayed that when I woke up it would be gone.

It was not gone.

I got up anyway and got myself into the shower.

My head still hurt and my stomach felt horrid.

I dried my hair and started to get dressed.

It took a long time.

It really took too long a time.

I knelt down by my bed and started my morning readings and prayers and I started to get sweaty, like awful, cold sweat, I got super hot, broke out into a sweat and could barely say my prayers.

I finished, got up, felt woozy, sat down on my chaise and thought, fuck, maybe I should call into work.

No.

I can’t do that.

I have the next four days off and the family needs me.

I got myself up went to the bathroom and checked my face out in the mirror, fuck, I was shining with sweat and now I was chilled.

Eek.

I wiped my face, washed my face, and took a big deep breath, just go make your breakfast and you’ll be fine once you get some coffee in yourself.

I started to make breakfast.

I couldn’t fathom how I was going to eat.

The smell of the coffee wasn’t good, the apple I was cutting up to put in my oatmeal nauseating, I started to get sweaty again.

I couldn’t eat.

I was not going to be able to eat anything.

How the fuck was I going to go into work without eating breakfast?

I turned back to the stove, I poured some almond milk in a heating canister and the smell was way too much.

I turned off all the burners, walked away, left the bowl of cut up apples on the counter, the milk in the can, the percolator on the stove, an egg in a pan of water and I picked up my phone.

I stared at it.

I have to call in.

I can’t go in.

I called.

I lost the signal.

I called again.

Same thing.

I tried one more time.

Got through.

Told my employer I was super sorry, don’t know what was going on, food poisoning, stomach bug, then I started to cry.

I don’t cry.

Ok.

Sure.

I cry if you know me, if you don’t know me, you’re my boss or someone I engage with professionally, I’m not going to cry in front of you (doesn’t mean I won’t cry in the bathroom at work, but that’s different), and I started to cry, which is the ultimate sign to me, I was really sick.

My boss was sweet told me to get some rest and I got off the phone, took off my clothes and crawled right back into bed.

About ten minutes, maybe fifteen minutes of being in bed I sat up with a bolt, I’m going to actually throw up.

No, no, I’m not, I haven’t thrown up in years.

But I wobbled quickly to the bathroom.

And.

Holy shit.

I threw the fuck up.

I barely had time to drop to my knees and pull my hair out of my face.

My super pretty hair, I was having a great hair day, all for naught, the nice hair.

I vomited three times in succession and then got up, rinsed out my mouth, flushed the toilet and tottered back to bed.

I considered grabbing a bowl just in case to put by the bed, but I fell asleep too quickly to do anything about it.

I recall, in a dreamy sort of way, responding to a few text messages that came in during the morning, but most of what I did was drift in and out of sleep for the next five hours.

I got up a little after 1 p.m.

I drank a little water, my head still hurt, but I didn’t feel nauseous.

I made some of my breakfast that I had left on the stove hours earlier.

I was able to eat about half of it.

I talked with my best friend on the phone for a bit and by the time I was done with the conversation I felt better.

Well enough to finish the other half of the oatmeal and drink some coffee.

The headache went away about an hour later and the stomach totally settled.

I have no idea if it was food poisoning or if I was just suffering a migraine.

I don’t remember having an aura, which I typically do before a migraine, and I haven’t had a migraine in such a long time that I wasn’t sure if it was that or just a bad headache.

Either way.

It’s gone.

And.

I spent the entire day at home.

I rested.

I watched Blade Runner 2049 and chilled out.

I feel a lot better.

Good enough that I signed up for a yoga class in the morning.

I will take it easy, but I feel like I’m back to myself.

Sometimes a girl just has to take a sick day.

Grateful as fuck that I didn’t push myself to go into work, I would have probably thrown up in my new car.

No thank you.

I’ve got a super nice day off planned for tomorrow.

I am ├╝ber grateful that I feel better.

Like over the moon.

Night friend.

See you on the flip.

Sweetest dreams ever.

Is It Thursday Yet?

June 29, 2016

Fuck.

I’m ready.

I packed my bag this morning for New Orleans.

The only fly in the ointment?

The weather.

Damn it.

It’s rain and thunderstorms the entire three days I am there.

However.

The temperature is also 90 during the day and low 70s at night.

So, um, I don’t really care that it’s going to be raining.

I can carry an umbrella.

I may not ride the bicycle the Air BnB provides for it’s roomers, but I can walk or get around via a car, I’ve got Lyft and Uber on my phone, they are helpful little things.

I don’t have to figure out the buses or the city mass transit.

I’ll just call for a car and go where I need to go.

And I bet there’s something really romantic about New Orleans in the rain, especially warm rain.

When it rains here it’s cold and miserable.

I don’t believe that I have ever experience 90 degree heat and rain in San Francisco.

I would probably think the world was coming to a close, shit, when it gets over 75 degrees in the city, it’s a freaky heat wave to me.

I have this vision of Susan Sarandon in Bull Durham, yeah, I know it’s not set in Louisiana, but there is a Southern flavor to it, and I am reminded of Sarandon’s character walking home in the rain with a giant parasol umbrella.

Southern Gothic romantic.

So.

Yeah.

I’m packed.

I had a bit of extra time this morning, I was going to go to yoga, in fact, I had set the alarm to get up early so that I could, but I had the worst headache last night, bordering on migraine, in fact had a lover gotten a hold of me I would literally have begged off with a headache.

Not something I have ever done.

I have never said no to sex because I have had a headache.

Anyway.

It was pretty rotten and I crawled into bed early and when the alarm went off, I was like, nope, back to sleep.

I figured I could get in another two hours before I should get up and that’s exactly what I did.

I might have actually gotten ten hours of sleep last night.

Which was fantastic.

I definitely needed it and I think I was fighting off a little something.

That was what compelled me to stay in bed more than anything, yeah, I wanted to go to yoga and it would have felt great and I am not going to be able to make it in to the studio until after my trip, but.

I staved off whatever sick I was feeling.

And today was 100% all the way.

The sleep was sexy and needed and wonderful.

And now I am ready to go.

Except.

Well.

I have two more days of work to get through.

I don’t typically pack so early, normally I pack day of or the night before.

So I have thrown my own internal travel time clock off a little bit.

I would catch myself thinking, more than once, that I was leaving tomorrow and get all excited, then realize, wait, shit, no, I have two more days before I travel.

Hmm.

I am actually wondering if I should repack considering what the weather is going to be like.

I packed three sundresses.

I really want to wear sundresses.

But.

If it’s not sunny, I mean be more comfortable in a pair of jeans.

Then again, I keep telling myself, 90 degree heat regardless of the sun being out.

90 degree temperatures calls for less clothing than I am used to, I just keep thinking cold, San Francisco rain.

Three sundresses, one crinoline, one pair of wedge sandals, and my swimsuit.

I may not swim either.

Then again, that could be fun, a swim in the rain.

Who knows.

Things never go as I plan.

I thought I might be seeing someone tonight and the things never fell together and then I was supposed to meet with my person and that got cancelled and then instead of being in the Castro I am suddenly in the Inner Richmond sitting in a church basement I rarely frequent.

But it was good.

And I saw my people.

And I felt great leaving knowing I done what I needed to do to take care of myself and my recovery.

I had a moment when I was like, fuck it, I’m just going to go home.

Except.

What was I going to do?

Oh.

I know what I was going to do, watch a bunch of Orange is the New Black and beat myself up for not doing the deal and then feel guilty because I didn’t do the yoga too.

I should not do that.

And I argued a little with myself.

But the smart feet won out and when the time came to make the turn to my house or to God’s house.

Well.

It was pretty easy to choose.

And voila.

Head on straight, happy in my self, home sound and safe, happy I took the right turn instead of the left and now I can watch some OITNB without any quilt, thank you very much.

Plus.

It keeps me connected.

I wasn’t drifting, but I was feeling some isolation in my program and consistently doing the deal since the past semester of grad school ended has helped tremendously with that.

Granted I already have grad school stuff on the mind and I actually just now checked my courses from the past year and yes, all A’s.

YES.

ALL A’s.

Granted a bunch of my classes were pass/fail, that’s the nature of some of the courses, (I passed them all, should you be wondering) but the one with grades, A’s, which means, though I have not gotten my last paper back from Psychodynamic’s, I must have gotten a solid A on it.

And my Family Ethics and Law Course.

The one with the big, gnarly take home final, I got an A.

Sweet.

That feels really good.

Not a bad day at all.

Not necessarily the day I planned.

But.

So it goes.

My best days are always better than my best laid plans.

Always.


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