Saturday, 29 December 2012

Boring Post About Boring Things

So I'm boring.  Hands up, I admit it.

I might as well as I'm constantly being told it's the case.  My boringness seems to be particularly noticed and highlighted around this time of the year when I'm asked what my Christmas and New Year plans are and the answer every year is always the same - quiet.  The thing is though, quietness to me is somewhat of a necessity in order for me not to want to stab myself in the eye.


Have you ever had a migraine?  If you have, did you want to be around a lot of noisy drunk people?  Or, did you spend your time doing nice quiet activities, possibly involving a bed and a darkened room?  Did you feel like you were being boring by not 'sucking it up' and 'living a little', or did it seem like the totally sensible non mental thing to do?


I live my everyday life with that 'migraine'.  According to the Hyperbole and a Half's 'Better Pain Scale'  I'd estimate I rank between a 5 (Why is this happening to me??) and an 8 ( I am experiencing a disturbing amount of pain.  I might actually be dying.  Please help.) most days.






I honestly can't remember the last time I experienced any less than a 3 (This is distressing.  I don't want this to be happening to me at all).  I don't say this for pity, just for clarity.  The way a 'normal' person feels the day they have that 'migraine' is how I feel all the time.  I reason I don't look as bad as you do when you have a migraine is because I'm so used to it.  And foundation. Lots of foundation.

People seem to be able to tolerate one off instances of being unwell enough to mess up plans or make a person feel less sociable, but when it becomes the norm, somehow it's seen as the person giving in when actually they are just feeling the totally appropriate need to adjust their daily lives in the name of self preservation.



Would I be a different person, with different interests if I hadn't been diagnosed with arthritis at the age of 21?  Most definitely... but I don't care.  

A few years ago (after one too many binges at the local all-you-can-eat-buffet after receiving bad health news and deciding to fix it by eating my feelings) I decided that in order for me to not go completely bat poo insane, I needed to cut the links 'normal' people have between health and happiness.  I like my life, I like my quiet hobbies, I like that they are realistic hobbies that aren't going to tire me out so much that I'm going to lose all interest in them and make me feel more guilty than I do most days anyway (damn catholic upbringing).  

Would I be an ultramarathon runner if my life hadn't turned out the way it did?  I seriously doubt it, but who knows? Would I be a crusty baguette (the nemesis of the TMJ 'issues' patient) taster for a living?  Would I finally have perfected my quiff and followed Morrissey on tour?  Who knows.  My life is different that most people my age, but you know what, I've always been a weirdo so it almost makes sense that my life has turned out so differently to most twenty somethings.

I've been turning to Dr Seuss a lot lately, but let's face it Dr Seuss basically exists to affirm the lives of weirdos like me so it seems only fitting to end this post with a quote:

Now excuse me while I spend my Saturday evening watching the Gilmore Girls for the fiftieth time... and liking it.





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