...And Now for Your Regularly Scheduled Program

Whew-boy...

That was something else. I'm hoping I'm at the end of a period of my life. I think it will leave forever-marks on my psyche. Migraines are no joke.

Since December of last year, I've gotten my all-day, every day migraines down to once a week or less. Halleluiah.

Halleluiah. Halleluiah. Halleluiah.

Why does pain always feel like an eternity? Why does joy feel like but a moment?

What I learned:

1. Be grateful for every. little. thing. When I was first trying different things to stop the migraines, and I had been taking medications for a week or so (anti-seizure!), I got to the point where I wouldn't have a migraine until late morning. I became so grateful for that small grace period. I didn't know it was something to be thankful for before. Those small quiet times of peace. I know now.
2. If it hurts you (or anyone else for that matter) in the long run, don't do it. I can't justify eating any old way anymore. The consequences are too severe. My diet affects whether or not I have migraines and I keep to it diligently. I don't think about the foods I'm losing, but the freedom I'm gaining. It's too easy to reach for that which gives you the smallest pleasures right now, only to bring you the heaviest sorrows later. Don't be fooled--it ain't worth it.
3. Time is precious. I can't be wasting it dawdling or worrying over trivial things. There are too many significant things to look forward to and to experience. It's kind of paradoxical to me because I figure I should be living now like I'm already in heaven. There, I'll be making the most of my time, doing meaningful, significant work, even though I'll have all the time in the world. So why am I not doing that now, when I have so few seconds to spare?
4. I am who God made me. And God didn't make me in sin. That happened when I was born into this world. Therefore, I won't confuse my sin with me. Also, God wants me right now. That means all the things that people tell me: that I'm not good enough, that I should change, that they don't like who I am--that all don't matter. God knows who I'm supposed to be. So I'll only listen and answer to Him on the subject of where I am and where supposed to be--thank you very much.

It's not all over, however. I still have many periods of brain fog, during which I struggle to think and follow what's happening outside of me. I'm still fighting the battle. I'm still fighting. Because the last thing I learned is that pain does not endure. I endure.

Letters to My Family

I challenged myself to write a letter a day, for 40 consecutive days, to my husband, my son, and my daughter. That came to 120 letters. In a word-exhausting.

What I learned:

• that this was more a learning experience for me, than a sharing experience with my family because I don't think they were impressed with the letters,
• that trying to stay positive when I was having down days proved almost impossible,
• that letter-writing is overrated,
• that I don't have as much to say as I thought.

All in all, I'm glad that I've hit my goal, but I'm more glad that it's over. I know that my children will probably be relieved that they won't need to accept any more letters.

It was an interesting...experiment--one that I don't think I'll try again, at least not to this extent. Not along with writing multiple blog posts and a poem everyday. Too much is too much. I'd like to have enough time to say something, if not insightful, then at least practical. Some days I know I only blathered because time ran short.

I guess there's another lesson in there somewhere... I encourage everyone to lose their minds in this experience--and then find it again at the end.*

*I don't necessarily guarantee that your mind will be found again.