Hope springs a leak.

I keep getting hopeful.  I will find a temporary cure for an ailment, a client will call for a good solid case, my children will say something sweet, or I will bake one hell of an amazing overly chocolately M&M filled GF cookie.  Smiling will happen, happiness will bubble up, the world will seem normal and I will begin to believe I can do it all again!

Then hope springs a leak.

The headache returns. I get tired from working. I get so tired from working that I no longer have the energy to do anything that makes the children want to say anything sweet.  The would be awesome cookie does that GF thing where it wicks all the moisture out of your mouth and turns your once luminescent skin into a drying human husk.

Do you think someone out there could create a hope leak sealant? I know you can’t create a whole new hope I can just attach to myself and move on with, but if you could just make a spray of some kind I could use that could tide me over until the cookies come out right or the headache goes away, I would really appreciate it.

In fact, I bet there is a huge untapped market out there for hope leak sealant. Think of the millions of dollars you, the intrepid entrepreneur, could make by shoring up people’s hope just long enough for them to get things really going.  It’s a hugely underutilized market just waiting for the right inventor to come along.

So get on it already! I need myself some spray on hope!

The revolving ring of self imposed isolation.

Chronic pain makes me whiny.  Whining is unpleasant to be around.  Trust me, I am unhappy being around my own whining, but I have yet to determine a way to remove my own thoughts from my head without drastic ninja sword action.

So when I hurt really badly and I want to call someone to distract me or hang out with me or maybe bring me a silly movie you would think I would make that call.

I don’t because the following conversation happens in my head:

“I really hurt and feel like no one loves me anymore.  Why doesn’t anyone check on me?”

“Well, they have lives silly, you should call them and see if they are available. Also, last time I checked none of your friends can actually read your mind.”

“But all I will do is whine, and all I have to talk about is this stupid headache, and who wants to be around someone who doesn’t have anything positive to say?”

“Your friends do, that is why they call them friends. Besides, they have positive things to tell you. It might help.”

“But they aren’t calling me.  What if this is their subtle way of signaling that they are really tired of listening to me whine about chronic pain?”

“You are being ridiculous, I doubt any of your friends would be that subtle.  Most likely they would simply ask you if you could see a therapist and talk about something else.”

“So now I’m ridiculous and whiny? No one wants to hang out with a stupid ridiculous whiny person.  I’m just going to hide here on the couch, watch someone on t.v. fight fake monsters, and feel sorry for myself because no one loves me anymore.”

So I do.