Brain fog

Needed to say something. Can’t seem to remember what. Don’t know what I lost.

Reblogged from An Unfiltered Monologue.


Has pain affected your relationships?

I’ve been very selective about who I spend my time with lately.  Living with pain has made me selfish.  No more the nice girl who patiently listens to everyone’s problems and goes along with what other’s want to do.  For now, it’s all me, me, me.

In a way, I think this has been good for me.

I’ve discovered that there are some people who I’m always happy to see – people who are kind, supportive, willing to listen without judgement.. and there are those who, well… aren’t.  And there are those who mean well, but that I just don’t have the energy for.

I don’t mean that I no longer want to be friends with these people – not at all – it’s just that I don’t have the fight in me at the moment.  I have found that living with pain is lonely.  Sometimes, being with the wrong people can be even lonelier.

There are certain people that I owe a world of gratitude to.  Living with pain really shows you who’s who.

What do you think – has pain affected your relationships?


Describing pain

One of the biggest difficulties in getting help for a ‘headache’, I’ve found, is actually describing the pain. To start with, it was just “a headache” – a headache unlike any other headache I’ve experienced, but trying to describe how it’s different from a ‘normal’ headache.. and where exactly it is.. well, then I had to get a bit more creative in my descriptions.

I’ve seen a number of quizzical expressions on medic’s faces after spouting out the following gems;

“The top of my neck feels like there’s two dirty coarse metal poles grinding against each other.” (no, really, it actually does)
“The roof of my mouth feels.. fizzy.. and my teeth hurt.. not like toothache, but like there’s a headache in my gums.”
“The ear pain is like a puff of powder exploding in my ear.”
“The nausea? Well, that’s just like the travel sickness I used to get as a kid, but no, I’m not dizzy, I just feel like I’m moving, and sometimes the room moves sideways.”

And where is it? Where in my head? I don’t know!! It’s just.. in there!!

It can be a lonely experience, trying to describe pain. I just don’t know the right words to convey how it feels, and if I did, how would I know, anyway? How do I know that the other person knows how I’m feeling?

How could you ever know if anyone has experienced the same pain?


Gratuitous and almost totally unrelated picture of a cat.

Worse than the pain itself


For me, the worst part of pain has been the things that I have had to give up, the things that pain has robbed me of.

An inability to read has changed my life these past few months. My working life, and therefore my financial position, has changed drastically. Gone are the days of spending hours and days on a laptop, lost in building up my business. Instead, it’s meant me doing the minimum work that I can get away with. The financial stress has certainly not helped my situation.

More importantly, I’m a bookworm, a geek and a perpetual student by nature. My weekly french class was a real joy in my life. Not being able to study french effectively means no trip to France again this summer to volunteer (I can’t afford it anyway, having not been working full-time). My plans to pursue a career in teaching english are on hold, perhaps forever. And the pile of books I want to read has been getting bigger and bigger.

Small things I know. People suffer much more than I have. But it’s the little things, the small changes that I didn’t ask for, didn’t want.. I feel robbed.

What have you been robbed of?