Sitting on the sofa, cup of coffee at the ready, cat snoozing on the lap. All perfectly normal, nothing unusual there in any way. Although normality has taken on a whole new format; the complexities of familiarity, of the status quo have shifted somewhat.
It’s a foggy day, a thick pea-souper if the truth be told. The weather outside is fine however, it’s an odd juxtaposition.
Clarity of thought, clearness of head; was it ever so? You can no longer remember. It is now normal to wake in the morning with a head that feels like it's full of wet cotton wool. Fuggy, foggy, hazy, call it whatever weather related simile you can conjure up, it’s all the same really. Constantly tottering on the precipice twixt ‘banging headache,’ and ‘searing pain.’ The majority of the time teetering on the border, desperately clinging on to ‘mild pain and uncomfortable irritation.’
Once upon a time you had no need at all to be able to sense the presence of your own bonce to be certain that it’s still there. You’ve got that ‘luxury’ now. Pain, cloudiness of mind, they both serve as permanent reminders that the brain is still doing its utmost to carry on regardless. Headache, pressure, weariness of thought, it’s all there and they take their toll. Most of the day is spent battling the best efforts of the brain to ruin the day. Consequently, the minutes, the hours, the days are spent trying to live with the ever present effects of, well, everything.
The concentration, or lack of
Then, maybe it’s the coffee, maybe it’s the cocktail of medication, but thought eventually hits the peak of its lucidity. Painfully close to ‘half asleep,’ nudging vigorously at, ‘couldn’t give a flying duck,’ but it’s as close to clarity as you’ll ever get.
This IS your normality, the new you.
I’m not at my best, can you tell?