- Nov 8, 2016
- 49
- Tinnitus Since
- 11/2016
- Cause of Tinnitus
- Dental work
Had a spike last evening. Like a kettle boiling in my head sort of spike. No chance to keep my mind in a coherent state. Dark thoughts seeping in; thoughts of never-ending misery to the last of my days. Sleep near impossible; only through a miraculous meditation in the dark do I get myself into what seems a xen-like state, and simply go along for the ride and then somehow to 5 hours of shuteye.
The wake-up happens in a largely silent place; only lasts for half a minute before the raging kettle is back in force. I know I have a planned day out with friends, and the whole T setup is now starting to majorly piss me off. I get out of bed, have breakfast, furiously wash the dishes, and get myself ready. Next, I'm out in the car, driving to pick everyone up, and a new tune comes up on the radio. I swear, the most uplifting melody I could have possibly imagined when it starts playing. I Shazam it, and proceed to listen to it several more times. Mood is starting to lift up; along the way I discover a new pleasure enjoying listening to the car engine revving up, or even just calmly cruising along.
It's a crisp morning, the sun is just over the horizon, and I'm soaking in every ray I can expose my face to. Everyone is now in, and we're on our way to the sticks.
It turns out to be this gorgeous area; rustling brooks, towering boulders, and everything you can wish from late fall. We're trekking up and down the trails; sweating from the climbs, and gazing at every vista that reveals itself during the breaks. The sound of leaf litter being kicked around is by now replacing any memory of ever having crossed swords with T. Sure, I can hear it if I strain to, but it's way at the back of the queue, so why bother.
Several hours later, and by then I can't tell how many, we're all nearly sapped of energy, but oh so rejuvenated; I feel re-born, if such a thing can actually be felt. It's time to replenish our batteries, and we head to this, literally and figuratively, middle-of-the-road joint for some grub. If you ask the patrons, they'd probably tell you the food is bland and average at best. I don't care; I can just as equally be in a Michelin starred restaurant. Reliving the day is on the menu, and we all take turns sharing what delighted us most. I think it's heaven.
Now the day is almost over, and here I am, trying to make sense of it all. Was there some lesson to learn? Savor and magnify every pleasure, however little, life presents? Perhaps. Have faith that contentment and joy can still be found, even in what seem the darkest of times? Could be. I just hope this day stays with me forever.
Thought I'd share; I'm probably still sky-high on endorphins.
P.S. The song is "Soul food to go" by The Manhattan Transfer.
The wake-up happens in a largely silent place; only lasts for half a minute before the raging kettle is back in force. I know I have a planned day out with friends, and the whole T setup is now starting to majorly piss me off. I get out of bed, have breakfast, furiously wash the dishes, and get myself ready. Next, I'm out in the car, driving to pick everyone up, and a new tune comes up on the radio. I swear, the most uplifting melody I could have possibly imagined when it starts playing. I Shazam it, and proceed to listen to it several more times. Mood is starting to lift up; along the way I discover a new pleasure enjoying listening to the car engine revving up, or even just calmly cruising along.
It's a crisp morning, the sun is just over the horizon, and I'm soaking in every ray I can expose my face to. Everyone is now in, and we're on our way to the sticks.
It turns out to be this gorgeous area; rustling brooks, towering boulders, and everything you can wish from late fall. We're trekking up and down the trails; sweating from the climbs, and gazing at every vista that reveals itself during the breaks. The sound of leaf litter being kicked around is by now replacing any memory of ever having crossed swords with T. Sure, I can hear it if I strain to, but it's way at the back of the queue, so why bother.
Several hours later, and by then I can't tell how many, we're all nearly sapped of energy, but oh so rejuvenated; I feel re-born, if such a thing can actually be felt. It's time to replenish our batteries, and we head to this, literally and figuratively, middle-of-the-road joint for some grub. If you ask the patrons, they'd probably tell you the food is bland and average at best. I don't care; I can just as equally be in a Michelin starred restaurant. Reliving the day is on the menu, and we all take turns sharing what delighted us most. I think it's heaven.
Now the day is almost over, and here I am, trying to make sense of it all. Was there some lesson to learn? Savor and magnify every pleasure, however little, life presents? Perhaps. Have faith that contentment and joy can still be found, even in what seem the darkest of times? Could be. I just hope this day stays with me forever.
Thought I'd share; I'm probably still sky-high on endorphins.
P.S. The song is "Soul food to go" by The Manhattan Transfer.