Feelings

Doctors ask, "What would you rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10?"

Friends and family ask, "How are you feeling?" or "How is it going?"

They seem like simple questions, but somehow they aren't. I have realized that this blog has helped me come up with some quick sound bytes, some easy to digest nuggets of truth, but the bigger picture is - as it always must be - so much more complicated. It turns out, I feel like pain is hard to quantify. How I feel seems to shift frequently, and often in ways that seem out of proportion with the world around me. As I mentioned before, the recovery process isn't linear. But more than that, I have found that the process isn't entirely about physical recovery.

I have been surprised to find that much of what challenges me each day is mental/emotional. I don't know why it surprised me - when I think of it now, it seems perfectly logical that there would be an emotional component to recovering from brain surgery. But I wasn't expecting it. And so there are many days that I am up and about, walking, talking, driving, singing, cooking, and otherwise hitting the marks of "normal" life pretty consistently, and I'll get stuck. Some of these very basic tasks have become overwhelming or too much for me to manage. Sometimes just momentarily, and sometimes for longer. This typically leads to a mental loop of feeling frustrated, guilty, and otherwise at odds with my universe, while trying to reassure myself that it's okay that I'm not at 100% and that there is nothing wrong with needing a little time for rest. I've found that this whole recovery journey has made me grumpy a lot, followed closely by an inevitable wave of guilt for being so grumpy. Guilt has been a frequent visitor, as has frustration, as I keep trying to figure out where my limits are. Days when the headaches/pain are really bad and my energy is especially low, it seems like it's usually related to overdoing it - pushing past what I can reasonably handle and then facing the consequences in the following days. But I find that on a day I don't set an agenda or try to accomplish something, I feel lazy, like I'm wallowing or languishing, rather than recuperating.

It feels like a crossroads, this time of recovery. In pursuit of silver lining, I wanted it to be an opportunity to reset, to identify bad habits and build new positive ones, to work toward the things I've long said I want to do when I have the time. And I guess I am doing that, in small ways, but it just doesn't always feel like progress; this crossroads feels more like being stuck at a very long red light. I might have an idea about my direction, but I don't always feel like I'm getting anywhere.

But these really are just feelings. I know intellectually that I am making progress, that recovery and healing have ebbs and flows, that it's normal and natural to feel frustrated and uncomfortable and cranky as part of this process. In the grand scheme of invisible illness, my story is not nearly as bad as it could be, but it's still unfamiliar and strange to navigate. I understood going into this that there would be good days and bad, ups and downs, but I somehow didn't think it would be quite like this.

Feelings aside, I'm doing fine. I'm seven weeks post-op now, and I'm able to return to many normal life activities. I'm beginning to gear up to return to work in the next few weeks at some point, and I'm trying to build up my stamina so I can get back to my regularly scheduled programming. I'm hoping that by the end of this month I'll be having more good than bad days and that the predominant feelings will be good ones, with grumpiness, guilt, and frustration relegated to the backseat. 

Thank you again to everyone for your good thoughts and well wishes!