There are days I feel like Prof. Lupin from Harry Potter, wild hair and all, and today is one such day. For the most part, I consider myself more of Prof. McGonagall, all decked out in green, and I even have the green cape and point witch hat to prove it! I’d love to be able to turn into a cat from time to time, but being a frog is enough work. But when the full moon rolls around and the migraines hit me like a ton of bricks, I have to wonder what on earth is going on in my brain.
I woke up this morning feeling as though Thor himself was inside my skull, trying to smash my bones. I closed my eyes and had a brief existential crisis. OMG how am I going to work? While fumbling around in the dark, I suddenly remembered that today is Sunday, and that I could flop back and wallow in misery. A few minutes later, the pain was so bad I simply had to get up and put some fluids in my body. Normally I am pretty good at tracking the moon phases, but ever since moving to Portugal I’ve neglected this, and if it hadn’t been for some moon photos I was sent yesterday, I would have continued blissfully unaware. Ah, but full moon is tomorrow here in Lisbon, and my pounding head confirms it.
How is it that I am able to sit in front of the computer and type? Am trying a new tactic – confuse the brain and hopefully the unwelcome transmogrified Thor will disappear. I wrote last week that Sundays are usually my holy days for sleeping in. Ha! Not today. By 06:45 I was up and about, pottering around the kitchen and laundry room, hoping to have both places to myself before the rest of the residents woke up. So before 8:00 rolled around I had run one load of laundry, cooked breakfast, and fiddled around with the cameras. The second load of laundry ran along happily while I ate my breakfast in peace.
I truly wish I were not so sensitive to the moon phases, but it is what it is, and the older I get the more intense the reactions. I can’t explain it, and I wish I knew whether there was a connection between (post) menopause and this werewolf-like migraines that are like clockwork with the full moon. I keep staring at my hands and feet, fearing that I might just begin do grow paws and claws any minute now, certainly have the wolfy disposition!
I know, I know, it’s all in my head – but that is precisely the problem. My head. But who am I to complain? I’d rather have an aching head that prevents me from seeing straight than a broken heart that stops me from living, right? Even Prof. Lupin learned to live with his full moon terrors and ended up with Tonks. Hmmm, maybe I should ask him to teach me how to deal with all the Death Eaters floating about.
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