One Tender Step

The thing about writing consistently is that blog posts start showing up in strange places.

Like your head.

Offline.

Which is what happened last night.

I fell into a deep, dark depression while trying to go to sleep. Not because something new had happened, but because something finally caught up with me. I had been surviving the pain for weeks. Managing it. Working around it.

But last night it hit me all at once.

How upsetting this actually is.

Even when I’m not in pain, I’m not relaxed. Because the pain will return. And when it does, it is not subtle.

It feels like the right side of my head is exploding.

Constantly.

Pulsing.

And the worst part is that I know exactly how it happens. I know what “wrong” looks like now. Sleeping on my right side is wrong. Lying fully on my back is wrong.

If I do either of those things, my brain explodes.

At least that’s what it feels like.

And that realization finally caught up with me last night. I had been coping, adapting, surviving. But the emotional weight of it hadn’t landed yet.

Until it did.

So I cried.

Except not really.

Because I can only lie on one side now. The “good” side. Which means if I upset my sinuses right before going to sleep, everything becomes complicated. Cry too much and suddenly you’re dealing with congestion.

Which means you have to take a steamy shower.

Which means sleep becomes even more elusive.

So instead I tried to hold it in.

My eyes leaked anyway.

I feel a bit whiny writing all of this. But I also know it’s good for the soul to get it out. Sometimes naming the thing makes it a little less heavy.

So thank you for reading.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

Eventually K came to check on me. I hadn’t realized how upset I was until she asked what was wrong. “Awful,” I said.

And then a sob escaped.

I stuffed it right back down again.

Not healthy.

I know.

My eyes kept leaking. K suggested putting on a meditation and staying with me until I started to drift off.

Thank you, K.

She stayed until I was starting to doze. And honestly, I’m not surprised my nervous system was still pulsing all night.

Of course it was.

I had nightmares.

Dreams about being inadequate. About failing systems. About tragedy.

The usual cheerful nighttime programming.

I woke up at two in the morning, which is also not unusual these days. Normally if I wake within two hours of my alarm, I just get up. I’m one of Those People who wakes up at four in the morning.

But last night I stayed.

I was exhausted.

And when the alarm finally went off, I knew I had made the right decision. I was still tired.

Just slightly less tired.

So I started the day the way I often do now. Breakfast with the kids. Me here in California. Them in Michigan.

It’s surreal.

But it works.

Most mornings we just eat together. But sometimes they tell me about their day. Yesterday there was a performance. First Minion had a LINE.

And he added a dance move.

Which is apparently very important.

Every morning when I meditate now, I also run a neck massager. I suspect that habit is here to stay. A small daily negotiation with the nervous system.

I’m also still waiting for the physical therapist to call to schedule an appointment.

And I’ve realized I’m down to the last day of my muscle relaxant.

Even though I’m supposed to take it for another five days.

So I’ll call the doctor later and sort that out.

But I think that uncertainty is part of what caught up with me last night.

It’s scary.

Managing pain is one thing.

Realizing how fragile the system feels right now is another.

So today is a day of grace.

Not that other days don’t get grace.

But today gets extra.

Gentleness.

Grace.

Hugs.

Yoga.

Mindfulness.

Self love.

Because sometimes healing is not about pushing forward.

Sometimes it’s about taking one careful step at a time.

And trusting that eventually the nervous system will remember how to be calm again.

One tender step at a time.