What a long, long year. September is one of my "new year anchors". I kind of ignore January. Seasonal Affective Disorder means that I never feel like doing anything more or new or extra or healthy in January. And then there's my old friend February. But March and September are my weigh points. March starts with my birthday and ends with spring. A perfect time for new habits and reflection.
September closes out the heat of the summer and has some of the most beautiful mornings and evenings. It also has both my wedding anniversary and my work anniversary at my current company (7 years for one and 6 for the other if anyone is counting). Lots of things to check in on and think about. Plus, autumn is like a second spring in the gardening world. Lots of plants need their seeds to experience the cold and damp of winter before they are ready to sprout in the spring. Lots of plants benefit from growing roots over the winter so they can really be ready for spring foliage and summer fruit.
Today was the first day in long, long string of days that have been wrapped into a long string of weeks that I woke up clear headed and feeling like myself. Can you believe that I had actually forgotten that it used to be normal for me to pop out of bed with curiosity and chaos in my brain? Chronic pain is weird. It manages to both feel more and less terrible than I let on to other people.
Most of my TMJ pain doesn't feel worth mentioning because most people just want you to tell them when you're better. But it's been 10 months and some days are better but a lot of days are just...the same. Most of the pain isn't very acute. And I sleep through a lot. It's not good sleep and I've been feeling worn down now for so long. On the pain scale where 10 is so bad, all you can do is try to count how many bones there are in your face that are throbbing but you don't have the attention span to finish counting so you just count and get interrupted by the pain, count and get interrupted over and over again, I live at a 2 or a 3.
Spending 10 months at a 2.5 feels like being a car with the headlights left on. It's not a big problem, but then the battery gets drained and the car isn't as reliable as it used to be. How many times can you leave the lights on and drain the battery before other problems start to arise? Every night for a week? Four out of seven nights for how many months?
It's hard to call myself a morning person anymore. Mornings used to be my best time. And I loved mornings alone best. A secret hour or two before the world breaks in, speeds up, and has you running. But not anymore. There are no secret hours. Just ibuprofen and trying to nurse my way into functioning. I miss the way I used to be.
I also miss just feeling alright without effort. Do you know how hard I work just to keep my pain at a 2 or 3? I stretch, take magnesium, get jaw massages, wear my night guard, am vigilant about unresolved conflicts that might leave stress hanging out in my jaw, neck, and shoulder. I devote hours each week to basic upkeep (or down keep) of all of the known triggers of TMJ. And I'm grateful that these things help, but I grieve the body I used to have and the time I used to spend on other things.
I don't really feel like myself lately and I have definitely had less capacity for all of the relationships that require me to do any "heavy lifting". "I'm sorry that you need me to guess what you're feeling and comfort you, my emotional intelligence is at a record low because I haven't slept in 10 months." This has also made me significantly less empathetic. I don't mean to. It's just that the battery is dead. Trust me, I wish I could swim through your emotions with the ease that I used to and help you make sense of them, but I can't. I'll drown because I lack the stamina these days. May we all ask for what we need directly and with kindness.
