Body Language

When your body does funky things to you, and does them consistently, it's a message from your body. If you don't initially listen to your instincts about your own body and how it's feeling, your body has to come up with creative ways of talking to you. Your body's language to yourself is far different than the body language *you* use to communicate with other, but it's a similar concept. It's subconscious cues the body is giving off.

Now, I make it a secondary priority (but a priority nonetheless) to listen to my body when it's telling me something. Working out, and feeling shin splints? Adjust the incline. Eczema on my right foot? Getting stressed out, so take a time out. Sciatica going crazy? Rest and pay attention to how I'm lifting and bending or risk throwing the back completely out.

Apparently, my body really enjoys the fact that I listen to it. My body can't shut up. Snow or rain is coming? Easy, achey bones where I broke them as a kid. Barometric pressure dropping quickly? Let's have a migraine! Guess what happened yesterday? It went from beautiful and sunny out, to cloudy like it was going to start a downpour. The barometric pressure dropped so fast that I got dizzy and had such bad floaters and auras in front of my eyes that I couldn't see out of my left eye. There's a pressure from a migraine behind my eyes and at the back of my head, and while the migraine is under control with Advil, I can feel the constant threat of vision-impairing floaters, auras, and blind spots. It finally started to rain during the night, and is now off and on, and I can just FEEL that the barometric pressure is wickedly low. I woke up twice during the night to take Advil AND Tylenol. Just four hours later, I had to take Advil again.

I hate migraines. I hate how debilitating they can be. I fear that they'll actually get so bad one day that I'll stroke. They actually mimic strokes, you know. And they scare the crap out of me. My biggest fear? That I'll die from a migraine and the doctors won't be able to figure it out, and I'll leave my children not only without a mother, but with the legacy of migraines when they're older.

Sorry, morbid, I know, but I sort of have migraines on the brain right now. HA HA HA! I just made a pun. Oy.