Just between you and me, it’s been a bad weather week in my head
It’s another one of those days.
Today I’ve been tired since I got up
tired in the shower.
My head started aching soon after
threatening to become a migraine.
It did.
“The fog comes in on little cat feet…” [Carl Sandburg]
Nothing gentle or stealthy when my fog comes in.
Another one of those mornings I wake up exhausted – more than when I went to bed
(too late) last night.
The pain started in my head, migraine on the horizon, taunting me.
I roll over in bed with the alarm. Head spins.
I get dressed and showered (Oh. No it’s the other way around)
If I don’t, I’ll be lost.
Rush not to be late but will leave too late anyway.
It’s the day I take the subway one stop too far.
Forget and get lost getting to where I go every Saturday.
Achilles. Walk around the reservoir. I want to do it alone.
Really I don’t know what I want.
But my guide is gentle – coming with me and with another guide [two for one]
I need to be in my own cocoon. Ear buds on, silent.
slowly slowly slowly trying to walk away the fog.
Be present.
My guides watch.
They walk with me watching out for something whatever it is
My fog can be stormy, I can lose sight, lost
The murmur of their voices behind me
Talking to each other. But watching…
“Do you want me to warn you of dips in the road?”
“No… only if I’m walking into a moving vehicle.
“There may be tears but don’t ask me why” I say.
Unseen vaguely heard. They have my back
But I know they are there. I am not alone.
I will not go one stop too far.
Exhausted, I climb into the bus home –
head aches on the horizon return with a vengeance.
half a pill. and sleep
Yes, a pill.
a pain pill that also makes me sleep.
Because I can’t stay awake or anything but close my eyes
feel my head sharp and hurtful.
Tears and at a loss. What now?
I don’t know.
I do know it is a week of bad weather – weather I know too well
I forget, from one minute knowing and a second past.
What did I mean to do? to say?
Where is whatever it was I am looking for?
At least I remember to write this down.
At least I remember to tell you.
Laurie R.
A Brain Injury Life 
Nice piece, Laurie. I hope that your bad weather has resolved for a while. I have had an extremely difficult summer with multiple personal and family issues hitting me one after another for 6 weeks. I made it through but not optimally. Hoping for brighter skies ahead for you and for me.
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Maria, I think we spoke about your summer, which has been such a trial. There is no “optimal” in such situations. Knowing you, you probably managed better than you think you did. I’m so sorry about your tough times, and wish you, too, brighter weather in your head and in your life.
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Dear Laurie,
Thank you for sharing your experience with us. It helps me a lot to read about other people who go through the same or similar things I go through since my brain injury.
Your poignant writing has, once again, brought me to tears.
God bless you and do continue sharing.
Julia Maria
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Thank you so much, Julia, for your kind and empathic comments. I hope your move went well, and that you are continuing on the difficult path back from brain injury, despite the struggles you are coping with daily. I apologize for not responding to your email, but have been overwhelmed, exhausted, and as you know… well, it’s just hard to get things done.
Take care of yourself.
May God bless you and bring you peace – in your home and in your heart.
Laurie
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Thank you so much for your good wishes, Laurie. And yes, what I need the most is that inner peace that can only come from God.
Many blessings!
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This is the first time I’ve read a piece of yours and want to thank you for so eloquently expressing the this phenomenon. I’ve had intermittent bad days for 30 years and am now finding them more frequent and more difficult to integrate/recover from. I’ve thought about it as fog of course but not taken that further to a weather phenomenon and in doing that you’ve made clear it is something that comes and goes but doesn’t have to move in and rule.
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Cari, I’m fascinating by your perceptive (and hopeful) response, taking my words one step further.I once took a meditation class. You’re meant to be present, mind clear, anxiety set aside. When a worry drifts into the home that is you, remember it is just a visitor. It doesn’t live there; it came and will go; it is not “you.” When we ride out the storm, maybe there are fewer bad weather days? Maybe we’re on a path to acceptance?
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I’m not sure what acceptance looks like, Laurie, but I do have the perspective of doing this for 30 years and at this point I don’t look for or even want a return to the life that was mine back then. I’ve worked too hard and learned too much to fit this soul into that small shoe, pardon the pun. I know who I am now from the tips of my toes to the tops of my ears and neither apologize for nor feel shame for who I am. Overall, if you don’t like me, that’s your issue and not mine. Acceptance? I know it’s not rejection so I guess it is.
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Laurie, for me, somehow the act of describing an experience takes a bit of the edge off the pain/misery of the experience. You’ve done a wonderful job of capturing the experience – the act of capturing is the art of naming/taming it. Thanks.
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Your perspective helps. Writing for others is new to me, and hard. My intention was to reach out, give. But my compulsion to “capture” may also be a gift for myself.
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