Summer Storms

It's September, it's the long weekend, and it's all changed.

After an amazing summer of record heat and unheard of limited rain, which has left most lawns brown and stunted and most children (and those adults fortunate enough to have enjoyed vacation time themselves with nothing else to do but laze around or putter in the yard) various shades of deep dark tanned brown, the weather turned this past week and now instead of low 70's overnight we're met with low 50's when we step out to grab the paper from the mailbox first thing.

The drop in temperatures was accompanied by a weather system that hit us with some wicked thunder storms with intense winds and lightning and lots of rain - so much so that the sump pump is running again as it tries to keep up with the water that has seeped down to the footings of the basement. Some neighbours were watering their foundations of late, hoping to avoid having the clays shift and exert pressure in new locations once they got wet again - which we knew they would eventually - it couldn't stay that dry that long. Not here.

No, the grass is green this morning, and lush and thick and needs a trim - something we've done so infrequently this summer that I wonder if I've even bought gas for the mower, or if what's left in the red plastic gas can was left over from last year... Remind me to get new gas before the snow flies - something tells me we'll need it for the snow blower come January.

I actually missed the changes this week, sorta - not missed as in the emotional longing for them, but as in not being present for them, thanks to the changes in my brain that I'm still trying to deal with and understand, as I spent most of the week fighting a series of headaches and related issues, alternating between seeking silence and solace beneath the blankets in bed, and fighting through the cloudy, constant, clatter inside my head while trying to help bring 4 jobs to a close at the same time for month's end. That's the trouble of being the only one who knows the intricacies of projects and having to hand them off to someone else while in a diminished state.

We managed, we always do, and things always get done. Though I really could have done without the dizziness and constant motion issues and seeing spots and that ringing in my ears that is always there like some demon on my shoulder, most times ignored, but in those moments when you need peace and quiet the most it rises above the din to take centre stage and become almost deafening. And then theres the stabbing brightness from within, jolting you with intensity and then instantly fading away through muted tones back to black, coupled with a never-ending loop of static like on the old tv, constant fuzziness in the background, my brain unable to properly organize and process the multitude of inputs being received.

Hell must be like this.

When all you want is to be able to close your eyes and get away from it all, to find that perfect stillness that is, and when that's the place where you find relief the least. That's just cruel. For its not an external storm that you're watching through the front window of the house, the purple skies rolling and rumbling pierced with forks of yellow-white electrically charged lightning, and the sideways hammering of driving rain against the walls. This is your own private thunderstorm, inside your head, behind your eyes, and its got you trapped, caged, prisoner. That lightning is your own doing, and its brought its own hammering, pounding thunder and rain, and the drugs only do so much to knock the edge off and muffle the echos of pain, the rest is up to you, and all you have left is to wait out the storm...

I hope this changes too.