Am I sick or just crazy?

It's been a rough few days here. I have been enduring a migraine. I hate those bastards: they steal my thoughts. I don't feel human anymore. I can't bear bright lights or loud noises. I can't sleep at night. I can just barely choke down food. I can't talk sensibly or interact with my family in any meaningful way.

Needless to say, writing is right out. It takes all my focus to write my own name; getting out my usual thousand words? Not gonna happen.

If I take a lot of painkillers -- and I mean a LOT, like dangerously close to overdose -- then I can function for brief amounts of time. I can carry on a short IM chat, or sit down to a meal, or have a sensible conversation. Not much more than that, though, and there's no telling how long the respite will hold.

I have been enduring these marathon pain-fests two or three times a year since I was eighteen. I get weird compulsions when things are bad. The one that stands out in my mind right now is, I want to wear a veil or scarf over my head -- usually my shawl or whatever afghan I'm wrapped in -- as though covering my head and ears will muffle the headache or something. The other main compulsion this time -- they change from episode to episode -- has been a craving for ice cream. THAT compulsion, I can totally live with.

Yeah, I know, the image of me sitting in my bedroom with a shawl over my head like an old granny is enough to make you laugh. But the compulsions can be so strong, that simply writing it out just now made me cry.

It's rough sometimes, this being crazy thing. I have no doubt, some of my friends would avoid me like the plague if they knew. Maybe somebody reading this will think twice about claiming me as a friend, after this. I can't help that; I can't tell you what to think.

I can't help this; I've had OCD since I was little. MOST of the time, it doesn't interfere with my life in a significant way. I can live with the counting, I can live with the obsession about not touching, I can live with the weird word phobias. Just part of the fun of being me. For the record, I have never had a destructive compulsion; no voices telling me to shoot up college campuses or anything like that. Just things like respelling a word over and over until the letters come out to an odd number, or something stupid like that.

Look at it this way: all that counting has improved my math skills out of all measure. ;-)

The only time I get scared is when the compulsions change suddenly, without warning. Like when I have migraine.

ANYWAY, after an eternity -- six days or so this time -- the worst of the pain has finally passed. Thank you, Jesus. I'm getting back to normal. All I have to do is catch up on my emails -- I hate falling behind -- and reconnect with my family.

And get back to writing. That's good, too. One nice thing about the ending of one of these episodes. It's like a baptism, in a way. Like I've just come through the Slough of Despond or something, and come out the other side with a fresh slate. I feel like I can do anything, write anything, and it will be good. All the old doubts are washed away, at least for a while.

That's good.

In other news, I feel the need to write about my sister and her cancer. I've sat down and tried to write it out about three times now, and no dice. But it's coming, and soon. Consider yourself warned.