Category: Writing

I Battle Chronic Migraine
chronic migraine · daily prompt · Humor · Writing

I Battle Chronic Migraine

Amy63 Comments

What do you enjoy doing most in your leisure time?

A tongue in cheek title, but it’s a serious post today, folks. I received a spam comment from a “life-of-the-party” type telling me that WordPress can easily access all of my information and surely I could make up some stories. Well, clearly this person doesn’t read my blog at all, which means I take little value from the statement. But they do have a point. Much to the spammer’s chagrin, today I won’t be making up a story or writing a poem. nor will I be performing interpretive dance.

In my leisure time I enjoy battling migraine. In my workday, I battle migraine. When I’m writing a story, I battle migraine. It’s a war, made up of many battles. Some battles migraine wins, and some I do.

I wear purple battle armor

I’ve suffered from migraine since I was 12 years old. I’m going to scream this from the rooftops: migraine is not a headache, although that is the most commonly known symptom of migraine. Many symptoms accompany migraine. And there are many types of migraine. I started out with the headache type when I was 12. And then progressed to the aura which is followed by headache as a young adult. Then I got slammed with the shadiest, dirtiest, low down piece of crap migraine I’ve ever had: vestibular migraine. Vestibular migraine is characterized by vertigo, which is the sensation of spinning. It is also characterized by a rocking boat sensation, where you don’t have balance and you walk funny. A headache, sweating, stomach upset, vomiting, tinnitus, and a host of other unusual symptoms are also seen with this type of migraine. This migraine seems to be chronic for me. I live with it every day, all day. Migraines are often genetic. They can also be traumatic brain injury induced. Migraine is a neurological condition, not a headache. There are several types of migraine, and some of them are quite shocking. They are all beasts.

Types of migraine

I consider myself a bad ass for dealing with this shit every single day of my life, continuing to work and trying to live a somewhat normal life. Having vertigo for over 24 hours and throwing up nonstop, ending with a trip to the ER, where they can’t help, is not something I would wish on any enemy that I would ever have – infinitum. Many of my family members have migraine of varying types, severity and chronic states. If you line up my family members next to each other, put on a blindfold, move to the side, wave your arms around in front of your face, you will poke every single one of my family members in the nose and yes, you will have poked a migraineur.

What causes or exacerbates it? Having a brain. Also, the barometer rising, the barometer falling, the barometer being too high, being dehydrated, not getting enough sleep, getting too much sleep, too much stress, not enough exercise, turning your head wrong, these are all things I can bring on a vestibular migraine for me which, as I explained is chronic. It’s running in the background in my code. It comes to the forefront when it wants.

I have medication, but they don’t work quite as well as they should, and it’s always about tweaking the medications for us chronic migraineurs. You cannot cure migraine. Migraine is a neurological condition. It is controllable. For me, medication is essential. CBT and other types of behavioral therapies help. Vestibular rehabilitation exercises help. Getting up out of bed when you feel like you’re going throw up yet again and you can’t stop spinning helps. But imagine having to do that every day.

This is key to understanding

I don’t expect to ever be cured of this, and I don’t expect anyone to understand how you can be completely disabled at times by something you can’t see. But people who have an invisible condition or disability will understand what I’m talking about. What I do in my leisure time is I fight migraine. It is a war. I will fight to the death.

In my other free time I poke fun at Blahganuary, because I can create. I write stories and poems because I am a creative. There’s a section of my brain that isn’t filled with misfiring neurotransmitters and conductivity overstimulation or hypersensitivity. The calm area is where I get into the writing zone and chill.. I just also happen to have a chronic neurological condition that at times is disabling. I never let it win, and I never will.

While I was writing this piece using dictation, WordPress heard me say vestibular wrong. It typed out “Mr. Buler.“

(“Buehler? Beuhler? Buehler?” anyone?)

So to WordPress, thank you. I now have a nickname for my condition. When it acts up, as it is known to do, I will tell Mr. Buler he can kick rocks. I may even say it out loud in public, just for fun. “Mr. Buler, could you not have stayed home today? I mean, you didn’t even bring your battle gear. I have mine. And I’m going to use it.”

©️2024, itsamyisaid.com, All Rights Reserved.

June is Migraine Awareness month
Want My Passwords, Too?
daily prompt · Humor · Writing

Want My Passwords, Too?

Amy29 Comments

Name an attraction or town close to home that you still haven’t got around to visiting.

Why don’t you tell us some attractions or towns close to your home, Blahganuary? Hmm? Where would you like to visit? What do you like to do for fun? What is your mother’s maiden name? Post your password and I’ll tell you if it’s strong enough or not. What’s your date of birth? In which city were you born? What are your distinguishing features? Touch the screen so I can read your fingerprints. What’s unusual about your middle name? Do you live near the beach? Do you have a car? What’s your phone number? What’s the name of your favorite bank? What is your routing number? What about your signature makes it unique? Show us.

That’s All She Wrote
daily prompt · Writing

That’s All She Wrote

AmyLeave a comment

What’s your dream job?

This prompt has been posed to us before somewhat differently. Read my response here.

As for today’s prompt, which is slightly more specific than the previous prompt I answered, I’ll give an example rather than explain it.

Below, you will find a post I made on another social media website 13 years ago. On the face of it, it’s describing a mundane process, but the undercurrents are where the tale is being told. It’s the sum of the parts, not the whole. My dream job is the sum of the parts. The processes that go into making the final creative product: the whole. Creativity, as a whole. The pieces play a role.

Door closed, cats out of room, ear plugs in. Fingers perched on keyboard, itching with the question of where to start.
Writing a compelling cover letter is like writing the story of You. You must know your audience, read the job description to determine style, sense of humor, what the position asks of you, and how YOU can be what they want.
You write a cover letter to get an interview. You sell yourself as a brand to achieve that end. Will there be some fiction? Maybe. It’s best called “embellishing the truth,” though.
I write letters that get attention. Always have. That’s because I know it’s a skill that must be developed, it’s a story that must be told, it’s a tiny little book that needs to grab its intended viewer’s attention immediately. You don’t have much time; choose each word with care. There are hundreds, sometimes thousands of other people trying to get the same job – you must stand out.
So. I’ve finished this cover letter, and will read and re-write it until it states exactly what it needs to in order to get me an interview.
The interview is Part 2 of the selling of You. But more on that later…

Thanks for stopping by. Before you go, if you missed it, part two of Susie’s origin story has been posted. Read it here.

Susie’s Origin Story – Part II
cats · Writing

Susie’s Origin Story – Part II

Amy25 Comments

If you haven’t read Part One, start here and come back to Part Two.

I can’t remember the exact details, as it was 2008, but I know my mom and I were running around like an expectant parent and grandparent, trying to get the cat in the birthing box, supply her with food and water, along with a litter box. We were feeling excitement about the impending babies. Mama Kitty stared at us with confusion and probably a touch of wondering about our sanity.

My mom had seen cats and dogs give birth before, but I had not. I’ve had cats and dogs all my life, but they’ve never come to me quite in this way: right off the press. Four for the (free) price of one.

While Mama Kitty was laboring in her nest, we kept checking every twenty minutes or so – no kittens. My mom became a little concerned by an hour in and no kittens, but she wasn’t panic level yet. By three hours, she told me there was something wrong, and if she didn’t have the kittens in the next ten minutes, we’d need to get a laboring cat into the car at 9pm-ish, and take her to the emergency vet. You can imagine the prospect. Logistically and financially, we were not prepared.

We looked in the room one final time, and…there were kittens in the nest! Three, in fact. The one holding up the conga line was Bubba, a big-headed gray kitten who was the one doing the somersaults and taking up the most room in Mama Kitty’s belly. Next to be born was Rafa, a solid black spicy boy. Finally, Susie was born. She was smaller than her brothers and she was a brown tabby.

You might be wondering how they acquired their names. I named Bubba, as he just looked like, well, a Bubba. He held the whole process up, didn’t seem to know that, and was a scarf around his mother’s neck for at least a month. Rafa was named after Rafa (obviously). I was going to name Susie “Tiger Lily,” but my mom was having none of it. “You named all of the other cats, I want to name her.” So, her name became Susie – except that it really isn’t. Her name is “Thuthie,” which is how I pronounced my baby doll’s name when I was two years old.

Mama Kitty with her tiny crew. It’s hard to see, but there are three kittens nursing. You can see how protective and proud she is of her babies.

For several weeks, we left the little family to bond and came in only to check water, food and litter status. I’d often find Bubba as a scarf around his mother’s neck – perhaps her favorite accessory. Mama Kitty was a great mom to all of the kittens. When she was able to leave them for a time, she would escape the nursery for some attention from the humans. She knew when to return to her babies, though, and so she would.

Bubba, top right. Susie adjacent to Bubba. Rafa mostly not seen, but that is his tiny body and tail. The babies all had stripes when they were born, as is very common. The stripes remain into adulthood, but are only seen in the sun, except for Susie who is a tabby with obvious beautiful swirls, spots and stripes.

The kittens grew fast, and soon became menaces – in a mostly good way. We’ll explore how Bubba lived up to his name, how Rafa meant Serious Business while eating, and how orange poo got all over the nursery floor, bedding and walls, which caused this panicky human parent to frantically call the vet.

Join me for Part Three: The Kittens Take Over. Coming soon…

©️2024, itsamyisaid.com, All Rights Reserved.

Susie’s Origin Story – Part I
cats · Writing

Susie’s Origin Story – Part I

Amy28 Comments

It all started with Mama Kitty.

Mama Kitty, 2016

She was a pretty Tortie, a green-eyed stray with a home. I know, that seems paradoxical, but in reality she was. Her home was about four houses down from mine. She would walk the fence in the backyard to come to my house. As is the case with the Cat Distribution System, we couldn’t figure out why she began to show up. But as this is a cat house, cats who show up get fed.

Mama Kitty was different. An anxiety suffer for most of my life, I could tell that she suffered from panic attacks and anxiety. Any attempt to bring her into the house to eat on the landing, she would run away. After a time, she would enter the house to eat, but the door had to remain open for her to have a clear escape. I know all too well that feels like. Anxiety is stifling and the flight response is overwhelming. Once she was done eating, she would go back outside and disappear for a few days. She slept on our front porch glider that was covered for winter.

It was during the late winter of February/March 2008 when one day we noticed Mama Kitty was a bit round in the belly. A few pets to the area revealed what we didn’t need a vet to tell us: Mama Kitty was pregnant. Capturing her to bring her into the warmth of the house became of utmost importance. As I mentioned, it was winter. If she’d had the babies outside, they all would’ve died. As I’ve also mentioned, Mama Kitty had an anxiety disorder. Getting her in the house without causing a full-blown panic attack was going to be challenging, if not impossible. The guest room became a nursery.

We prepared a large cardboard box with old sheets inside and placed it in the closet on the floor. This would serve as the birthing area. Cats will seek out confined areas that are private in which to give birth. After several attempts to capture Mama Kitty, we succeeded, but she was terrified. Our course of action was to place her into the guestroom and shut the door. I would visit the room and coax her out to eat and have a gentle scratch or two (hundred). She was a very loving, sweet cat – but she was terrified of men, dark pants and boots. (You can guess why.) She eventually ventured out of the nursery and was comfortable enough to sit on my lap in the living room.

It was one such occasion that she was on my lap and I was rubbing her. She allowed me to rub her belly, and I often felt the babies rolling around and kicking each other. There was one baby that was very active and seemed larger than the others. We could count three with our hands, but weren’t sure about a fourth. Mama Kitty was not a very large cat. She was quite small, in fact, so we weren’t quite sure where she would store a fourth baby.

On the early evening of April 15, 2008, Mama Kitty was enjoying a relaxing massage in my lap when she suddenly stood up and quickly jumped to the floor. I noticed after she jumped that there was water on my lap. Her waters had broken and she was in labor.

Stay tuned for Part II . . .

©️2024 itsamyisaid.com, All Rights Reserved

Happy Birthday, Ms. Hurston
daily prompt · favorite author · Writing · Zora Neale Hurston

Happy Birthday, Ms. Hurston

Amy2 Comments

What could you do differently?

What could I do differently? Or what I am going to do differently? The latter. Due to the current prompt being underwhelming, regularly scheduled prompt response is being replaced by a birthday wish for Zora Neale Hurston.

Zora Neale Hurston

Born on this day in Alabama in 1891, Ms. Hurston was a part of the Harlem Renaissance. She was an author, a filmmaker and an anthropologist.

I first learned of Ms. Hurston in an undergrad American literature class via introduction to my favorite novel Their Eyes Were Watching God. I often refer to her as a true wordsmith. I feel as though her words are able to cast spells and almost hypnotize. Sublime words that dance around the reader’s head. I can see her words. They are the color of honey.

I am forever grateful to the graduate student who taught that American literature class years all those years ago.

Happy Birthday, Ms. Hurston.

Some of my favorite quotes by Ms. Hurston:

Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board. For some they come in with the tide. For others they sail forever on the same horizon, never out of sight, never landing until the Watcher turns his eyes away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by Time. That is the life of men.

Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God

Goodreads

He looked like the love thoughts of women. He could be a bee to a blossom-a pear tree blossom in the spring. He seemed to be crushing scent out of the world with his footsteps. Crushing aromatic herbs with every step he took. Spices hung about him. He was a glance from God.

Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God

Goodreads

There is a basin in the mind where words float around on thought and thought on sound and sight. Then there is a depth of thought untouched by words, and deeper still gulf of formless feeling untouched by thought

Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God

Sometimes, I feel discriminated against, but it does not make me angry. It merely astonishes me. How can any deny themselves the pleasure of my company? It’s beyond me.

But in the main, I feel like a brown bag of miscellany propped against a wall. Against a wall In company with other bags, white, red and yellow. Pour out the contents, and there is discovered a jumble of small, things priceless and worthless. A first water diamond, an empty spool bits of broken glass, lengths of string, a key to a door long since crumbled away, a rusty knife-blade, old shoes saved for a road that never was and never will be, a nail bent under the weight of things too heavy for any nail, a dried flower or two still a little fragrant. in your hand is the brown bag. On the ground before you is the jumble it held so much like the jumble in the bags could they be emptied that all might be dumped in a single heap and the bags refilled without altering the content of any greatly. A bit of colored glass more or less would not matter. Perhaps that is how the Great Stuffer of Bags filled them in the first place, who knows?

Zora Neale Hurston, How it Feels to be Colored Me

Goodreads

Perhaps I am just a coward who loves to laugh at life better than I do cry with it. But when I do get to crying, boy, I can roll a mean tear.”

©️2024 itsamyisaid.com, All Rights Reserved

Time Traveling Up Ahead
daily prompt · Uncategorized · Writing

Time Traveling Up Ahead

Amy15 Comments

If you had a freeway billboard, what would it say?

I read the prompt suggestion today, and my reaction was, “Meh.” I scrunched up my face and was underwhelmed. So I’m going to break the rules a little bit and use the prompt to springboard (similar to billboard, but not at all) to something I wrote a while ago, and which ties into yesterday‘s prompt.

I’ve heard people say energies can inhabit a place long after a person has passed. It’s general knowledge in the paranormal community that ghosts/spirits can remain in a place, their energies reliving a certain time of their lives, for whatever reason, their presences seen in the same place, enacting the same scene for…ever (or until they have made their peace and move on). Perhaps these times were overwhelmingly happy or devastatingly sad.

What I question is this: is it possible for us “living right now” people to ingrain a happy memory onto a time and place so that others see or “feel” a presence when they are in these places?

As of today, living and breathing, I often pass places where I’ve created happy memories and wonder if anyone near or in those places now can feel the happiness that I helped create and lived once upon a time. In other words, do our living energies imprint our feelings just as spirits are able to when they pass?

I find myself searching specific areas with my eyes, curious if something akin to “The Time-Traveler’s Wife” is possible (horrible film, by the way, but compelling story).

For now, I don’t know. I feel no differently in these places, I see no out of the ordinary phenomena; it’s just me and my memories.

And I cherish them.

©️2024 itsamyisaid.com, All Rights Reserved.