Bodily betrayals

I have mentioned my chronic pain problems, due to numerous mishaps in my teens; they are debilitating not only physically, but are also crushing to one's self-esteem. Because I had headaches more days than not from when I was 16 into my early 20s, and because although those headaches abated somewhat with physiotherapy from that time on, BUT also because some of those headaches came with ear pain, which is a classic symptom of a TMJ injury (which I had), I attributed all headaches to the same cause. So I felt very slow off the mark indeed when, at around 31 years of age, it dawned on me that some of these headaches came at the same time every month. From that realisation, I was also able to identify the differences between the headaches I got from my injuries, and those from my hormones.

Which multiplied my sources of inadequacy; if I wasn't failing to manage a normal day's activities because of muscle spasms, then I was failing to manage a normal day's activities due to my body's own natural rhythms. Which is how I am today, having rung Q in a panic yesterday lunchtime as I felt like I'd just been hit across the head with a block of wood, having been taken by surprise by a very short cycle (the next joy on the horizon -- menopausal, perhaps? With such young kids? What a poster girl I am, in my bleaker moments, for all that is wrong with the older mother). Luckily he was able to come home fairly quickly and take S out while I slept for 2 hours. Despite the sleep, I went to bed at 8 that night, but my night was interrupted repeatedly by the throbbing pain in my head; I'd felt too nauseous to take painkillers before bed. I took some this morning and managed a couple of hours reasonably well, but late morning, I found myself looking in panic around the chaos of my house and my youngest son having a snack in front of the TV, wondering how I am going to manage to do the most basic of tasks, things which everyone around me seems to be on top of ...?

And yet, here I am able to put my thoughts into words & broadcast them willy nilly. Actually, this is a therapeutic experiment. I wondered if I could at least release the emotions, maybe I would regain some functionality. And it's a bit like the servant who whispered to the stream that the king had donkey's ears -- what was that story? -- this, I suppose, is my stream, ironically safer than hers, because I forget who overheard her whisper, but for better or worse, I'm pretty sure that my messages remain uncommunicated!

Phew! Now I'd better try to find something for me & the little guy to do together.