It’s the day after a migraine. Yesterday was the worst in a very long time. It was once suggested I “write into” a migraine – stop whatever I’m doing and write about how I feel. I assume that person never had a migraine – writing is the last thing on earth I do when my eyes can barely open. Usually I take medication when I feel a migraine coming on, then a few hours later I’m spacey but pain free. Not so this time.
Today’s psychology task – write two letters. One from my body to me. One from me to my body. Here goes:
I have Restless Legs Syndrome.
I rarely talk about it. It sounds like a benign and trivial condition everyone experiences at some stage. To some extent that is true, but my restless legs are severe and chronic.
And normally extremely well managed.
Like most problems, there are people who have it much worse. While I have a lot of associated nerve pain, if I take regular medication it’s fine. I rarely notice it and when I do it’s not too bad. In that aspect of my life, I found a little pocket of normality.
My psychologist talked about recovery, and I said (amongst other things), what’s in it for me? Which sounds appallingly self-interested – because it is! But it is the crux of my recovery issue. Everything I do in my life, is for other people – even my recovery. And without having intrinsic reasons to travel this rocky road, it is nigh on impossible to keep trudging along.
