How can you sleep at night, Mr. Narcissist? We hardly sleep at all, yet I suspect you sleep just fine. After all, you never did anything wrong, and these memories we all fight so hard to resolve are an elaborate fabrication.
What a beautiful, fantasy world you in which you dwell. Beware, for it will all crumble down eventually, and when it does, we will be stronger than ever. Relish your memories of when you had full power and control over us because those times are extinct!
So many things are passed on to our children including some of our most significant struggles. What a joy it is to see the positive aspects of family traits reflected in our children and what a devastating reality it is to see them struggle with pain. My youngest daughter has migraines. She got them from me. My mom and my maternal grandmother both had migraines, and I suspect this genetic condition goes back many generations more than any of us know.
So many things are passed on to our children, including some of our most significant struggles. What a joy it is to see the positive aspects of family traits reflected in our children and what a devastating reality it is to see them struggle with pain. My youngest daughter has migraines. She got them from me. My mom and my maternal grandmother both had migraines, and I suspect this genetic condition goes back many generations more than any of us know.
Today, after missing another school day, my sweet daughter is in bed with her head on an ice pack and her room as dark as can be in the middle of the day. I know exactly how she feels, yet I am powerless to end her pain. It was just after she was born that my migraines became chronic and, ultimately, intractable. She knows what her future could hold, and it both scares her and makes her sad.
Another journey is at hand because we must find a way to control/prevent my daughter’s migraine attacks before they take over her life. I’m so sorry little one. It is part of who we are, but I won’t let it overtake you.
One “black day” is manageable, most of the time. Many of them crammed on top of each other can feel insurmountable. These “black days” have been plentiful recently, and respite is nowhere in sight. Instead of feeling desperation and defeat there is numbness. Even anger is unable to be roused leaving a sense of complacency and acceptance.
There is still hope for the seed of happiness to sprout and grow, but for now, it is firmly buried under the weight of too many “black days.”
Imagine if we could see the emotional pain and scars represented on the skin of those around us. Festering, oozing, open sores on the skin of souls still trapped in their pain and black and blue bruises covering the bodies of those beginning to heal.
What about those with scars? Some may hide scars, embarrassed by their pain and past struggle, even though they had to be so very strong to survive. Those with scars that show, uncovered in the sun, for all to see might be the strongest of all. These are the scars of people who were strong enough to survive, heal, and continue living despite their past.
How different would we relate to people if we could see their internal pain? How different would we present ourselves if our past was visible on our skin?
This recent struggle is overwhelming and at times, unbearable. It feels like running a marathon and sensing the finish line is within reach, but suddenly being forced to run with two broken legs. It is the exhaustion setting in along with the absence of rest that weighs so heavily on the body and mind.
There is no option to quit. There is no option for failure. I will crawl if I must, dragging these broken and bloody legs behind me to claim the prize – healing, rest, and, most of all, peace.
This picture symbolizes how I feel today and all of last week with a non-stop migraine. I’ve been out of order but still trying to function. Every task requires so much more effort. I make so many mistakes that take even more time to go back and correct. The pain has subsided – for now, but I am thoroughly exhausted.
My body feels heavy and weak. My brain feels like it is swimming in soggy oatmeal, and my thoughts are slow and shallow. When I talk, many words are forgotten, slurred, or mispronounced. I make no sense, and I recognize the look on my children’s faces. They are worried, scared, and try to help me, all the while warning me not to do too much. “We don’t want your migraines to get any worse,” they say.
Chronic migraine hurts, and it scares my children. The latest migraine attack is the first time in many months a migraine has lasted more than a day or two. I’m desperate for the end of this episode.
Depression is much more than the feeling of sadness. Feeling nothing is like insulation against the cold, stabbing pain of guilt, anxiety, self-loathing, hopelessness, and isolation. Sadness is a painful feeling, but combining it with all the other feelings is overwhelming.