Under Pressure

This spring has been brutal in terms of many things. To begin, the weather here has sucked in a huge way. True, the Colorado Rockies don't get tornados or tsunamis or earthquakes so as far natural disasters go I guess I shouldn't bitch too loud. But neither are our springs what one would call delicate; we don't bloom from one season to another. Nay, the bulk of the snow melts and then Mother Nature holds on to cold, gray and more cold for as long as she bitchily sees fit.

Where I'm going with this is: all this crazy weather means huge barametric pressure shifts, which if you're a migranie sufferer means pain. Big pain. Ongoing pain. Work-stopping pain. The kind of pain that makes one want to scream and rant at everybody that there's a bomb exploding in my head, goddammit and thank you very much.

Migraines a funny, not in a ha-ha way but in an odd way. They are, literally, all in your head. They don't have the weight of a broken limb or the glamor of a stroke. If you get them, you understand. If you don't, you find the person who does get them to be an enormous pain in the ass. There are times when I can go for a couple of months without one. Then there are times like now when my life nearly comes to a standstill because my head hurts so much, my arms are going numb and I can't see for all the black fuzzies in my eyes.

I know I can't blame it all on the weather, there is stress galore in my life right now. But to pick on The McStrokey would not be sporting, plus I don't have a bone to pick with him right now anyway. Shooting at his dad, whose body fills with more cancer everyday, is not lady-like -though sometimes I do it just for shits and giggles anyway. Then there are all those kids of mine with their daily demands of dinner and clean clothes. Whatever. All I know is that I hope the sun comes out soon, stays out and I can again move my head without wanting to scoop out the innards and toss them in the compost bin.