A bad day...

6:48 AM on my day off. That’s about 5 hours of sleep. No, 4. About the same as last night. I can’t sleep. I want to sleep but I can’t. The vibrating noise from my husband's aggressive fan rumbles through my walls and I can’t handle the noise. My brain is on fucking fire listening to the God damn vibrations. He doesn’t get it, the stimulation. He doesn’t know what it’s like trying to drown that out night after night. Like a damn car starting up in my bedroom where the engine runs all night. It’s too loud. I can hear it all. I can hear the light bulb some days, screaming inside my skull. Little vibrations. Little screams. The fridge, too noisy. It vibrates.

My jaw is in pain from the tension, a migraine creeping in over the left side. I can’t close my jaw but I need to close my jaw. The pain. It’s always pain.

Dr. Ron’s words repeat in my head as a child.

“Have you talked to your Dad about braces?”

Yes Doc. He said my teeth are straight enough.

“But you’ll have jaw problems.”

Sorry Doc, my parents health coverage only covers one kid and my big sister already cashed in on that deal.

My jaw. Click, click, click every time I chew. Fill out the form. Have I had any head trauma? Do six concussions count? Three car accidents? Getting the shit kicked out of me from my high school bully? Yea, I’ve had head trauma. And the stutter, the intermittent stutter after the last fall, that’s creeping its way back too. The-the-the red stuff in the fridge. It’s made of you know, the vegetable. Or is it a fruit. What the fuck is it called? Ketchup. The ketchup. Yea that’s happening too.

Two hours of sleep, four hours of sleep. Sometimes six if I’m lucky. Pain. I’m used to pain. The pain in my head. The pain in my uterus when my insides are being dramatic. The pain in my ovaries. Yea I feel that too. Not everyone can feel it. I can feel it. Like a little time bomb just went off inside. Every. Single. Month. Drugs, diet. None of it matters. None of it works for long. It pretends to just for a little while.

Never any relief. The pain in my knees, the pain in my neck, the pain in my head, the pain in my stomach. God, my fucking head! The pain in my head is always too much. It’s always too much. Grocery stores still make me sick. The bookstore makes me sick. The bookstore. The fucking bookstore… makes me sick, I love the bookstore. I hate the bookstore.

Sleep I need sleep. What was I doing? Sorry sir, I can’t use my words today, my brain is on strike, caught up in a fog. Can you pass me the… the thing. The the uh. That thing! The pen. Thank you. The pain in my eyes. The pain in my fingers writing this. Yoga. Water. Magnesium. Next? Did I get outside today? Did I check all the boxes off my list. Did I make lunches? The leak in my coolant. I need to check on that. The pain in my elbow while I type. Always the right side. Rinse. Repeat.

My air purifier is on full but it’s not blowing clean air. The filter needed changing months ago. It’s just for the white noise to drown out the vibrations but it’s becoming too loud too. Little screams. Little whistles are coming from it now. It’s too much. Ear plugs next. They hurt my ears. They don’t work. The vibrations. I can always hear the vibrations.

The pain in my head. The pain in my fucking head. I can’t quiet it. Tylenol check. Advil. No no not the Advil. The Advil ruins me. My stomach. The pain in my stomach. The Tylenol. My head. This screen is too bright. Never quit on a bad day. Never quit on a bad day. Never quit on a bad day.

-A