Walden Chronicles VIII – Swimming Inside The Migraine Brain

How can I tell you I went back to swim with the butt of a fist still pounding my brain?

How can I say it just happened. My arm shifted up, turning the wheel. The car swerved, taking the road that led to the pond.

I wasn’t planning it. It happened. It happens when thump upon thump, the mind is gradually ground into ground. Anything for relief. Even if relief is going back into the water that caused it.


I lie on an ice pack at night. Cold numbs the pain. Cold water surrounds the brain. Squeezes the pain feelers, the tiny fingers of blood tighten. Tense.

Sleep. Knits up care. I swim. In a pool of open arms. A universe of space in my brain. Forgetting to feel.

Release. Arm over arm. Breathe in, blow out. Slip, slide. It doesn’t matter that I go nowhere. Nowhere is here now. Feeling without fear. Not to feel, to fear the thump, the thud. I float in a sea of cold forgetting.

But I cannot float forever.

Land returns to ground me.

The thump returns to misery.



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