Monday, September 9, 2013


8/31/20-lucky-13, journal entry

Five-ish miles.

I begin my Saturday morning ritual by starting with a walk around the left half the perimeter of the ducks’ Mirror Pond at Manito before shifting into a slow jog. The slow jog winds through the cement path that ends at the bricks of 21st and Manito Boulevard, where I kick it as I head up and turn south where I were turn down and head north, its center with dark crow feathers I harvest for my yearly vases.

Then, as I run through Oak Grove (collecting delicious acorns for Goddess Carol and her pendants), running up and down the oak tree lined curve, I realize that THIS DAY, the Saturday before Labor Day, at this very time that I’m running…11-ish in the morning…on this day and at this time…this is the anniversary of when my brain began to bleed.

After jogging, I walk the the right half of the duck pond’s perimeter, collecting blue/purple and light brown feathers and pocket them in my five-K pack midst the acorns…and cry. I cry that deep sob that burns from throat to chest, that physically shakes my whole body.

My diagnosis won’t happen until the 23rd, but I still remember the exact moment my brain bled. And bled. And the pain. That exact moment.

I was just out of the shower after my ritual run through Manito Park and had hit the Farmers’ Market, when I suddenly felt like I was gonna pass out. Not just the queasiness and faint that I feel while having labs done, but like I thought I was gonna die. I couldn’t keep my head up. I lay on the floor, thinking this was just an anxiety attack but more intense. Pain started in the right side of my brain and spread out in concentric circles. I lay there for an hour til I could stand, and yet when I stood, still wobbly, I congratulated myself that I beat this attack without Xanax. Except that pain continued to throb at that same spot, especially when I shook my head.

So I continued to run and gave the opening address at WSRID, while noting my cluster headache in my speech. The headaches would ease slightly with Tylonol-3, but they never let up. Little did I know…my brain was bleeding. My brain was bleeding.


What makes me wickedly wicked happy

~My favorite brain bleed response from my Goddess friend Rouly…”Fuck that! You need brain earrings!” And she was right, and I still wear them daily.

~Henna tattoos. (Thank you, Sheridan Goddess.)

~Mama Goddess Gatherings.

~Julia Goddess’ Sunflower Forest

~Montgomery, Alabama in April

~Indianapolis, Indiana in August

~its museums

~Angel, the homeless man who has mental illness but wasn’t suffering and welcomed me to Indianapolis and our great conversation about nature. (Mental illness isn’t curable but people with it can certainly survive and thrive. Angel has a place to stay and is completely lovely!)

~that I forgot my black shirt. So I love my sundress excessive fabrics, but I thought that black skirt and shirt would be more appropriate for an RID presentation…except the black shirt that I thought I brought, was actually the skirt of my swimsuit. Luckily, a department store was nearby and the lovely sales lady Yolanda let me wear out my choice. (Hey, it made for a great opening story for the presentation!) Our “Mental Health Interpreting: FAQs” collaborative presentation was well received.

~the 1960’s costume theme…I was paraded on stage as part of the top ten in a competition. I didn’t win but I did get 6th place.

~ (Updated) Goddess Jamie, my Brian Sista, after her own brain surgery and stroke, goes home on the 23 of this month. The anniversary of my own diagnosis…and her birthday. (I love her.)


I have a brain bleed, my first EEG. I am terrified. (in the hospital on 9/24/2012)

I am brain bleed free.


So the 23rd will be the actual anniversary date of my diagnosis.

Things have changed for me. Energy suckers are no longer part of my world. Priorities shift when faced with death. I feel things intensely and my love and gratitude for my Mama Goddesses fill my entire being.

I am well.

I’m still running, but I still have symptoms.

Certain lights, in particular, florescent lights and the light that shines through horizontal slats of blinds that are closed still get me. Makes me sweat and feel like I’m gonna pass out again. I still have Xanax at the ready for those moments and when I can’t seem to climb out of the anxiety ridden PTSD horridable dreams.

Headaches are still not “just headaches”…yet…

But I’m running. I am running, and I could care less about time and placing.

And I honor Goddess Jamie in a special “I See You” ritual…only she knows about the particulars…this is a private moment between the two of us. Brain Sistas.

And I thank my Goddess Gathering of support. I love you.

Happy Anniversary to me!

Prevail~Prevailing Brain Bleed Goddess


GL, 8/31/2013. Prevail.

No comments:

Post a Comment