The Adventures of Miss Migraine is an ongoing column about my life with chronic migraine. A version of this post appeared first on my blog of the same name on September 5, 2012.
First, I am grateful for words, for language. I am grateful for the skill and intuition to shape them into meaning, into beauty, into stars, into beginnings, endings, middles. I am grateful for narrative, for storytelling and all the forms it takes, for the comfort it brings me, for the comfort I hope to bring to others through it. I am grateful for language in all its unspoken forms: the way the body speaks through movement, through touch; the way birds sing to each other as the sun spills above the horizon; the ways bees dance to guide each other to pollen.
Second, I am grateful that my favorite flower, the purple morning glory, returned to the empty lot across the street from my house this year. Their vines twist upward around the links in the broken fence, flowers spreading themselves wide for the dawn, curling up to rest in the afternoon heat. There’s is the truest purple, the most beautiful color, I have ever seen. And I am grateful to look at them day after day, to touch their silken petals and whisper praise, to feel them singing to the sun — not with voice, but with color. That song touches me on its way to the sky, and I feel renewed.
Third, I am grateful for my home, which is not a place, per se, but a state of being. Home is my husband, my dogs, my family living 300 miles away. Home is waking up to my husband making my favorite whole wheat waffles before I leave for a long trip. Home is returning to our house, the place we physically inhabit, to one wagging tail and one wagging nubbin, and one all-encompassing hug. Home is feeling safe, free from pressures and responsibilities; home is the ability to restore my spirit among the people who love me. Homemade waffles help, too.
This post was inspired by the book Freeing Yourself From Anxiety by Tamar Chansky, which I reviewed here previously. What are you grateful for?