no silver (or green) bullets

Nope. Extremely disappointed to announce, marijuana is NOT the cure for my migraines. The migraine came back, and there were a few hours today that I couldn't tell if I was still unable to think because of the pot or because of the migraine. Losing each thought as soon as I have it seems to be a symptom of both having a migraine and being stoned.

So my next brilliant idea was to go get a massage. My mother and brother have both gone to physical therapy at this Chicago chain and my mom had mentioned before that they do therapeutic massage, so I went for a therapeutic massage. The guy was kind of odd and very high-strung for a massage therapist, but he was good at the massage part. He didn't get rid of the muscle knots or the migraine, but he loosened things and the migraine was not an issue so long as I was laying in the dark silence being worked on. I just need a full-time live-in masseuse, or maybe to go back (or elsewhere) in a few days and tell them to just get rid of the fucking knots. I don't know. I'm out of ideas again. And I'm bored and lonely, because I can't do anything.

My mom called me this afternoon to see how I was doing and started in on "you should call your doctor and see if you can get in right away" and I snapped at her because it's pretty fucking clear to me at this point that modern medicine hasn't figured migraines out yet and I've tried pretty much everything there is to try and I'm even subjecting myself to guinea pighood and the last thing I want to hear right now is what else I "should" be doing, particularly from a person who is neither an expert nor experiencing it herself, and worst of all is my mother. She was on IM later so I apologized for snapping at her and she actually said (without sarcasm) "Sorry I tried to help! I know I should just tell you I love you and hang up." So I guess she understands and is learning, and that is good.

Remembering and communicating every detail of my life seems to be my main compulsion and driving force. I realized this while stoned. The fact that I couldn't express what I was thinking verbally or in writing was making me nuts. Also, I became aware of my constant judging and rejudging of every thought I have for accuracy, allowability, and admitability. It's pretty crazy and exhausting. I imagine not everyone's brain works this way, and I wonder if I can learn to quiet mine down. Obvious solution: drown myself in marijuana. Obvi.