Reminders
Drop the story line that you've been telling yourself. The narrative feeds the ego. The narrative separates. Drop the narrative and you'll open yourself to connecting to the thousands of others who are struggling in the same way you are right now.
My neck has been hurting for the past week. Since I've slept on it, I now resemble a pigeon with his head stuck in mid-peck. I've had trouble breathing, exercising, working, and thinking straight. Try as I might to set my neck straight, the problem persists. I go through the day, the pain eases up, and go to sleep with the hopes that a good night's rest will fix it right up. But then I wake up in the morning and have difficulty turning or lifting my head up since every twist and turn tells me to lay the fuck down in bed.
I've never had to deal with chronic pain before -- sans a broken ankle back in middle school. Usually I've gotten better over a few days. Maybe it's age. Maybe it's stress. But over this past month, I've been hit by a string of illnesses: the flu, a stye, and now this chronic neck pain. I've forgotten how normal and healthy feels.
But through the whole shitbag of dicks I've been thrown this past month, the pain has deepened my respect and gratitude to my mother.
My mother suffered for back pain for several years following my birth. There were complications with me coming out, and she was bed-ridden for months. I've seen pictures of myself as infant basketball, so I'm not entirely surprised. She used to tell me that she constantly thought of killing herself, but she persevered because she couldn't bare to leave my brother and me alone.
She's gotten better since, but she tells me that her back has never been the same since I was born.
A bad week with neck pain is hardly notable. Still, it ain't exactly pleasant. But through that having borne that pain for this long, it allowed for me to connect with a mom in a way that was formerly too abstract to vibe with. Pain is something we all know, but it's rarely the sensation we remember. Thus it tends to be hard to identify with folks going through it, except with a sympathetic look and condolences.
But going through this now, jutting my neck out as I write this, I understand a bit more why my mom would be filled with thoughts of ending it all. And I love her that much more for sticking it out.
My neck has been hurting for the past week. Since I've slept on it, I now resemble a pigeon with his head stuck in mid-peck. I've had trouble breathing, exercising, working, and thinking straight. Try as I might to set my neck straight, the problem persists. I go through the day, the pain eases up, and go to sleep with the hopes that a good night's rest will fix it right up. But then I wake up in the morning and have difficulty turning or lifting my head up since every twist and turn tells me to lay the fuck down in bed.
I've never had to deal with chronic pain before -- sans a broken ankle back in middle school. Usually I've gotten better over a few days. Maybe it's age. Maybe it's stress. But over this past month, I've been hit by a string of illnesses: the flu, a stye, and now this chronic neck pain. I've forgotten how normal and healthy feels.
But through the whole shitbag of dicks I've been thrown this past month, the pain has deepened my respect and gratitude to my mother.
My mother suffered for back pain for several years following my birth. There were complications with me coming out, and she was bed-ridden for months. I've seen pictures of myself as infant basketball, so I'm not entirely surprised. She used to tell me that she constantly thought of killing herself, but she persevered because she couldn't bare to leave my brother and me alone.
She's gotten better since, but she tells me that her back has never been the same since I was born.
A bad week with neck pain is hardly notable. Still, it ain't exactly pleasant. But through that having borne that pain for this long, it allowed for me to connect with a mom in a way that was formerly too abstract to vibe with. Pain is something we all know, but it's rarely the sensation we remember. Thus it tends to be hard to identify with folks going through it, except with a sympathetic look and condolences.
But going through this now, jutting my neck out as I write this, I understand a bit more why my mom would be filled with thoughts of ending it all. And I love her that much more for sticking it out.