Today was one of those days when I really loved my job. Maybe love is too strong of a word, but I felt very energized and excited about the work I do. This comes on the heels of a very crappy day. Let me just say it started with waking up at 7 AM with a migraine so painful that I would have preferred to have my dentist bore a hole in my head with her drill. Sometimes, when I have horrible migraines, I think about all of the painful things that would feel better than the actual migraine I was experiencing – this is how I came up with the dentist bit. My other favorites include:
- A jackhammer to the head/face
- A sledgehammer to the head to be swung by any of my favorite MLB players
- Banging my head against the wall…any wall
- Being stabbed in the eye (whichever eye is experiencing the pain)
OK, so this is morbid and kind of spooky, but what else can I do with my time when I’m dealing with a 17-hour migraine that, at times, I think just might kill me?
Back to my crappy day. It was not a 17-hour migraine – more like an 8-hour migraine. I was able to work once the meds kicked in, although I was higher than a kite for the first few hours. I refuse to get in to what exactly made the work day so crappy. I will not think about it any more than I already have because it is not healthy for me to stew about this. It is not healthy for me to go back to what I was feeling yesterday. All I will say is “Circus Tickets.” I know what this means and 20 years from now, I can look back on this and recall the situation. That’s all that matters.
So, it’s no wonder today was better.
On a completely different note, I found this picture at my parents’ house a couple of weeks ago. It’s a picture of my sister, me, and my mom.
(Apparently, I can’t get this picture to appear – I’ll try again later)…
From the looks of things, we were at the “nature center,” as we liked to call it. We did that a lot when I was young. I can so clearly remember running down the hill by the apple orchard, holding on to my big sister’s hand and squealing with excitement as I got that funny feeling in my stomach as we descended. What happened to those times? How did I get to be 33 years old? How did I get to be so critical and negative? I remember being 4 or 5 years old and only caring about playing outside and going to the zoo or the “nature center” with my family. Now I worry about, well, everything. I care what people think of me – people that really shouldn’t make a difference to me. I worry about having enough money to pay bills. I worry about getting a terminal illness. I worry about someone I love getting a terminal illness. I worry about getting old. I worry about failing – in work, in marriage, in life in general.
I don’t really want to be that young again, mainly because I really don’t feel like reliving all the bad times – broken hearts, high school, deaths, etc. But just for a few minutes, I’d like to have that feeling back. The feeling of no worries. The feeling of being excited about running through the sprinkler, waiting for my dad to come home from work, helping my mom fold towels, and eating a pb&j sandwich.