IT’S A DIRTY KIND OF WIND

Hello everyone, everywhere,

When I last talked to you I told you I’d been dealing with this concussion, and I also said I’d go to the doctor. Well, I did that the next day, and he pulled me out of the studio for a week–eight days, actually. I went back to see him today, and he cleared me, but he warned me to be very careful, and stop if I was getting any headaches.

So I’m back Wednesday. We don’t have anything big coming up for a couple of weeks so there’s no big pressure. I’m really missing being there. It’s just that these bloody headaches have been hard to deal with. They have subsided slowly, and I’ve still got a couple of days before I go back. If I’m not ready I’ll extend that. I won’t put myself in danger again. (This month, anyway).

Michelle came to my place to work tonight because she was worried that I shouldn’t be driving today, and I agreed. The story we’re going to give you tonight is reality–this is my story. This is what I’ve been living with, and I want it out there because there are a lot of people who are going through it, and they’re not sure what to do. Unfortunate. I can write out my feelings; a lot of people find it hard to say what they’re feeling, and they’re the ones I feel for because I know how difficult it is to find the words. This story had to be written, and I hope it helps someone out there.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest. Until next week…(and I’m so happy I can say that). There were a few days that I was truly afraid. I couldn’t think, and I thought maybe I had hit the wall and there was no more. The brain is a very delicate thing. Okay. Story.

I KNEW YOU WOULD COME BACK

Jim Single Drumming

I was angry, confused, in a dark place.

I was already injured; I needed no more.

I was stricken with headaches, anxiety.

I was down on my knees fighting arthritis.

I was fighting fibromyalgia, a disease that goes after the muscles in your body.

The harder I fought, the harder it hurt.

You see, it is not only the pain. It is the damn thoughts that get you.

I had my one ace in the hole stripped away.

I was pulled from my instrument, and told “No music; even listening.”

Too much.

Eight days. Rest.

Rest was the verdict.

So I sat alone for eight days in crazy town.

On the fifth day, I quietly played Yo-Yo Ma.

Inch by moment, I felt a strength returning.

What is all this about?

A concussion–a brain injury, that’s what.

This is my story. Everyone else has theirs.

I’m a serious writer and a very serious musician.

 I did not need more; I had plenty, thanks.

Again ,somehow, I’ve made it through, though there were those times…

I knew I would come back eventually–I am in awe.

And the journey continues.

That’s all.

(NEVER EVER GIVE UP)

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By jamesghutcheson

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