Sometimes I wish I were given to headaches. They are a marvellous excuse to retreat from life when it gets heavy. You just lie in a darkened room. Come to think of it that’s probably why I don’t have headaches. The thought of lying in a darkened room with nothing to do not appealing to me.
My first mother’s-in-law choice of weapon to shut up her brood and her husband were sudden, if predictable, onsets of migraine. Not that I doubted her migraines. I didn’t. I have seen migraines in action, not least one of my colleagues (I was her sidekick) working in her darkened office, tears involuntarily streaming down her face with the pain of it.
Alas I am not [given to headaches]. I remember two; what’s called tension headaches, in my early twenties, in quick succession. They were amazing. My head in some sort of crushing my skull vice grip. Nearly pushing me over the edge. I’d have killed (a fly) for some morphine.
What brought on this sudden thought of headaches? Maybe my quest for eighty days in the desert. After serving life in blogland. If only I weren’t such a people person I’d love a silent retreat. But then, I suppose, being self employed, leading a nine to five solitary life, solitude which I have cherished from my earliest childhood, I engage with people more than people who are drowned in people.
Tell me about your headaches. Real, imagined, metaphorical ones. In absence of any of the above, toothache will do. Backache. Pain in the neck. Stubbed toe. Pulled muscle. Which reminds me: Last night, bloody hell, one of my calves took it upon itself to remind me of its existence. What a cramp!
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Bitch on the Blog 