'Love is patient, it is kind, it is not jealous,does not brag, and is not arrogant. It is not rude,it is not self-seeking,it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things.' 1Corinthians 13:4-7"
My wise friend Julie posted that yesterday. And oh my god, what a whammy. I'm running out of attack-the-migraine meds, I've got a week and a half to go before I hit the neurologist again for more Botox, and probably at least 3 weeks after that before said botox kicks in. And the unknown here is what we're going to do about the #epicfail of trying to reduce my every day migraine preventative meds. I do not love my life. I have recently laid in bed, writhing in pain, imagining different ways that I could die, or even my family and I could die together so that no one would have to take care of the girls with their heinous food allergies. There, I said it. Chronic illness is a total bitch man. But let me tell you about life, love, and Valentine's Day.
When I get to the bottom and start imagining ways to die, I usually start telling God that something's gotta change and either he's going to save me or I'm going to end up addicted to drugs just for starters. Luckily I've got some great friends and family, so when Valentine's Day was approaching and I got roped into providing two types of cookies for a certain preschool class, plus bread, juice, jam, and frosting just for Sasha, I was able to call for backup. And 'though I did pay a friend of mine for a couple of days of baking, that money probably did not cover the 7AM freak-out-wake-up call he got on Valentine's day because I had a huge migraine and was on the don't-drive-while-on-these-meds, still needing help assembling everything. We miraculously managed to get both girls to school on-friggin'-time, complete with cards and baked goods! I don't know how to love this life, but sometimes it still loves on me.
I don't have answers for all the ugly days I spend under a blanket in a dark room, where the meds don't touch the pain and nausea of a migraine. But the girls and I haven't yet lacked for a blanket or a room. When I'm too tired and sick to eat, food is still an option. Knowing that doesn't always make it better, but if love is a choice, and if love is hard, and requires forgiveness, and hopes all things and endures all things, then maybe I can get my ass out of bed one more time. I cannot forget that people love me, since that fact is made clear to me daily. I can forgive myself for forgetting and try again to live, and possibly try to love life again. I may even be able to forgive the people who expect me to be "normal" and do normal people things like go on playdates, have a "normal" job, take happy pictures etc. My life is a disaster, I'm definitely single, and that may have been the best Valentine's Day ever.
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