Headaches

I suffered from a migraine for almost week before it subsided. It was a storm that raged in waves and lightning and thunder again and again just behind my left eye before slowly pulling away. It was a debilitating kind of pain that meant I could only go through the motions of living and working for five days, communicating from within a black fog of a mood that everyone around me could surely sense. It left me feeling bitter about being unproductive, depressed that I didn't have the energy to teach the way I wanted or to play with my toddler, sad that all I could do was lie down every spare minute as my husband became a single parent for two days.

I waited. Then there it was: the sweet, blessed release, the way a quiet shower will settle in after a storm, washing away pieces of shattered glass.

Headaches make me thankful. They make me think about people who live with pain daily, who may have no hope for release, who simply find ways to survive and maybe even thrive in spite of it.

I wonder if I could.