Beans to spill?

I am always a bit torn, when writing here, between being brutally honest or scrimping on the details for the sake of privacy. That fine line between drama and truth. You see, I am not entirely sure I know what to say about what has been going on with me lately. It's been a sort of slow movement, gradual and almost imperceptible over a some months; but now that I look at it, I can perceive the build up.

via brown dress with white dots from emerson made

From a blog perspective, I have this slightly uneasy relationship. Some people who read the blog are those who know me in the real world. Mainly they've known me for years and are my trusted friends, to whom I have divulged my blog secret (yes, I write a blog, yep I know it's unusual, yes I do share my thoughts with the world and no, I am not quite sure why, but yes I do love it). For this category of reader, I figure whatever I write here will just be a facet of what they already know. Then there are readers who know me, either because they have stumbled on my secret blog or because my husband, who is inordinately proud of what I 'create' here, tends to furtively show colleagues and acquaintances. This is quite touching but also leaves me with the impression that maybe his boss reads. 'Hi there', if you do, but forgive me if that makes me ever so slightly guarded about what I write. Then there are my blog friends; those who I may never have met but who shower me with empathy and kindness in comments and emails and without whom, frankly, this would be a lot less meaningful. And then there is the great unknown Internet out there, of readers who drop by, revel in all things Lou, and then carry on with their day, unknown to me.

This blog is a personal blueprint of me, which at times is so personal, but forever positioned as this open experiment where I write as if I am chatting over the telephone to one person, but actually the sound vibrations on that phone line can be picked up by thousands of others. This is why so many bloggers expend so much time discussing this point, and yes, when you think about it, it does feel really strange. I try not to think about it too much...

And so to the beans to spill...what's going on with me? An incremental set of circumstances, some medical and some psychological, and some where those two arenas collide. I have an unexplained, undiagnosed pain in my face; a year ago they thought it was tooth ache, but there is nothing wrong with my teeth. I have seen specialists (who were confounded by what it is), I have taken medication (with disastrous side effects and no results), I have googled every pain website there is. The fact remains: I have this pain, it's affecting my life and there appears to be no diagnosis and no treatment. My reaction to this fact veers from acceptance to abject panic at the prospect that I will have this forever. I do however acknowledge that compared to what some people go through medically, this is small fry.

So last week I tried to devise a plan; with some help from various sources to get this sorted. I rely on a discreet little group of friends who get random emails at odd hours saying things like 'you've known me for donkeys years, do I seem different to you?' I am trying to get to the bottom of whether the worry I feel about this pain is actually real.  Is the worry causing the pain? Is the pain causing the worry? So I am going to look at it close up and in the eyes and see if that helps. I have enlisted homeopaths and osteopaths and other people with 'path' in their title. So bear with me...

Meanwhile not blogging for a week was in some ways liberating, in some ways odd, in some ways strangely lonely (what? no comments!). I feel like I have an old friend whom I have not seen for a while and there is much to catch up on. The news and thoughts will filter through in coming days...

via brown dress with white dots