Not Dead or Dying

Today I tried an hour-long session of manual lymph node drainage with bits of traiger mixed in so that I wouldn't be "overwhelmed" by too much lymph at my first session or something like that. It was wonderful. It gave me new ways to look at my migraines and the pain and something that's like visualization except I'm capable of doing it, and everything felt really good even if it didn't get rid of the pain it helped give me tools to cope with the pain and lessen it and make it not matter as much. Very handy. I also became aware of quite how much I live in my head, not just in the metaphoric sense, but I carry myself from my shoulders on up and basically ignore the rest of me except as it connects to my head. My head rules everything. It's the bratty kid in class who takes over all the attention and ruins it for everybody else. I have to learn to acknowledge the head but then quickly move on to everything else. You are not the boss of me.

Then I went to the Saab dealer to get the recalled piece of my car fixed and get my $100 oil change that they say I'm supposed to get as a peace offering to my car, hoping it will start liking me better and stop having huge problems all the time. My phone right now only charges when it feels like it, so it was completely dead and I had no concept of time as I waited at the Starbucks down the street and read the Onion and did yesterday's RedEye crossword and Sudoku, still stoned on Lymph and Traiger. It was oddly pleasant.

When I got home and checked my email, I learned that my friend from camp who had all her guts transplanted in October and has been in the ICU ever since died this morning. While I'm heavy-hearted and feel terrible for her parents and family, I'm less sad or upset than I expected or somehow think I should be. I guess with all the months of misery and knowing every time I checked the blog her family kept of her progress that it could say that this was the day she finally died, that entry finally appearing wasn't much of a surprise. She'd been getting a little better, but really, she was still suffering and living a sad pantomime of a life. I thought about her a lot when I started complaining to myself and others about my own current life position and inabilities, since the world's my fucking oyster by comparison. After all, I can do things that really are living. Even if I can't eat certain foods or drink hard liquor or go party my brains out or work a normal job, I can feed myself through my mouth and eat many many many things that taste wonderful and I can still drink beer and smoke pot in moderation and I can even take care of myself on all basic and most higher levels 99% of the time. And my migraines can't kill me. So for as frustrated as I get looking at all the people who can just fucking live and not have to think about it or fight with their bodies on a day-to-day basis, I've been worse myself and I could be a whole lot worse, as in dying or dead.
Maybe I'll start chanting "not dead or dying" every morning while I shower and brush my teeth. See what that does to my psyche.