A Pounding Head and Peculiar Dreams

I woke up this morning with a migraine, and if I didn’t have a class to teach this morning, I’d probably call in sick. It was hard enough getting out of bed as it was. I didn’t sleep particularly well last night. I had a very active night of dreaming, some of which was quite nice, while other dreams were just plain weird and left me wondering why in the world I’d dreamed about such things. I woke up several times throughout the night, and a few times I had trouble falling back to sleep. Unfortunately, every time I woke up, regardless of the reason, my head was pounding.

Of course, I had absolutely no trouble going back to bed after getting up to feed Isabella this morning, nor did I have any difficulty hitting the snooze button when my alarm went off. I would have been perfectly happy to stay in bed for a few more hours, preferably without the migraine.

I’m hoping my head will get better as the morning goes on. If it doesn’t, I plan to teach my class, return the objects I’m using to storage, and head home. Some days, you just have to do what absolutely needs to be done and leave the rest for another day. Today is shaping up to be one of those days.

Miserable Weekend

I had a terrible weekend, but unfortunately, it wasn’t unexpected. I got my COVID vaccine Friday afternoon, and as usual, I had a pretty miserable reaction to it. I got the shot around 3 p.m., and almost like clockwork, twelve hours later, at 3 a.m. Saturday morning, the headache, body aches, and fever began.

This happens every time I get the Pfizer vaccine, and thankfully, it generally lasts only about 24 hours. Of course, knowing it’s coming doesn’t make it any more pleasant. I spent most of Saturday trying to sleep because I figured that was better than being awake and feeling absolutely miserable. Thankfully, around 3 a.m. Sunday morning, the fever and body aches finally subsided.

The headache, however, decided to stick around. On a pain scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the worst pain imaginable, Saturday’s headache was about an 8. Yesterday, it had dropped to a 5, and this morning, it’s hovering around a 2. At least it’s moving in the right direction, though I’d be much happier if it would just go away altogether.

Unfortunately, feeling miserable wasn’t the only thing that made this weekend unpleasant. I’ve also been dreading today at work, and that certainly hasn’t helped matters.

I have a meeting this morning that I’m not looking forward to. Without going into too much detail, my director and I have to deal with a situation involving our boss that should never have become an issue in the first place. Something relatively minor has been blown completely out of proportion, and now we have to spend time and energy trying to convince someone that he’s wrong and being unnecessarily difficult. Frankly, I think he’s being an idiotic asshole about the whole thing, but I suppose telling him that wouldn’t be the most productive way to handle the meeting. As tempting as it might be.

Then there’s the class I have to teach this afternoon. Normally, I enjoy teaching classes at the museum. It’s one of my favorite parts of my job. This particular class, however, has been giving me fits. The request was an unusual variation on something I do fairly regularly, and for whatever reason, I’ve had a difficult time figuring out how best to approach it. I think I’ve finally gotten the presentation into some sort of shape, but I still have some polishing to do before this afternoon’s class. I’m still not looking forward to teaching it, though. Hopefully, it will go better than I’m anticipating. Sometimes the classes I worry about the most turn out to be the ones that go surprisingly well.

The rest of the week is going to be busy, too, although thankfully, there’s nothing else on my calendar that I’m actively dreading. There are plenty of classes, meetings, and events to keep me occupied, and I’ll be putting in some long hours. I also have to work Saturday morning, so my workweek won’t officially end until 1 p.m. Saturday.

At this point, I’m already looking forward to Saturday afternoon, and it’s only Monday morning. After the weekend I just had and the week I’m facing, I have a feeling that one day off on Sunday isn’t going to be nearly enough time to recover.

But first, I have to get through today. Maybe another cup of coffee will help. I doubt it will make the meeting any more pleasant, but at least I’ll be properly caffeinated when I have to bite my tongue.

Here’s hoping the week turns out better than I’m expecting. It certainly has plenty of room for improvement.

Eleven Years Later

Eleven years ago this past Wednesday, I packed up my life in Alabama and moved to Vermont. I had no way of knowing just how much my life would change over the next eleven years. I knew I was beginning a new chapter, but I certainly couldn’t have imagined everything that chapter would contain.

I still remember how Vermont felt when I first arrived. The crisp autumn air, the mountains, the beautiful scenery, and the sense of possibility were almost intoxicating. After spending most of my life in Alabama, where I often felt constrained by other people’s expectations of who I should be, Vermont offered something I hadn’t fully realized I was missing: the freedom to simply be myself.

For the first time in a very long time, I felt like I could breathe.

I haven’t stopped loving Alabama. It will always be part of who I am. My Southern accent certainly hasn’t gone anywhere, and neither have my memories of growing up there. I still love Southern food, Southern hospitality, and many of the traditions that shaped my childhood. In fact, that Southern hospitality I was raised with has become an essential part of how I approach my professional life. I’ve developed a reputation for being welcoming, helpful, and willing to go the extra mile for visitors, students, and colleagues. Making people feel welcome and comfortable comes naturally to me because it’s simply how I was raised. It’s something I’m proud to have carried from Alabama to Vermont.

The two states may seem worlds apart politically and culturally, but they share more than people might think. Both have strong rural traditions, a connection to the land, and communities where people look out for one another. The difference, at least in my experience, has been the freedom I’ve found here to live my life without constantly worrying about whether I’m meeting someone else’s expectations.

Of course, moving to Vermont didn’t magically make everything better. In fact, some of the most difficult years of my life came after I moved here.

Not long after arriving, I lost one of my closest friends. His death devastated me, and the grief sent me into a depression that lasted for years. I had moved to Vermont hoping for a fresh start, only to find myself struggling just to get through each day. There were times when I wondered whether I would ever feel like myself again.

Therapy, unfortunately, didn’t help me the way I had hoped. If anything, it sometimes seemed to make matters worse. What did help was my friendship with Susan. She listened when I needed to talk, offered encouragement when I couldn’t find any for myself, and showed me a kindness and patience that I will never forget. I don’t know what I would have done without her during those years.

Depression also took a tremendous toll on my physical health. I gained a considerable amount of weight. Then came the diagnosis of type 2 diabetes.

I still remember crying when my doctor called to tell me. I was devastated. Diabetes was something I had feared, and hearing that I had developed it felt like one more thing going wrong in a life that already seemed to have more than its share of difficulties.

Looking back, though, that diagnosis became a turning point.

I was fortunate to find a wonderful primary care doctor shortly after moving to Vermont, and he has been with me ever since. He has encouraged me, worked with me through different treatments, and never made me feel as though my health problems defined who I was. With his help, my diabetes gradually came under control. Eventually, I was able to manage it through diet, and my weight began to come down.

The changes didn’t happen overnight. There were setbacks, frustrations, and times when progress seemed painfully slow. Along the way, I was also diagnosed with sleep apnea and began sleeping with a CPAP machine. My migraines, which had sometimes left me in nearly constant and debilitating pain, required their own long journey of finding treatments that worked.

Today, my life looks remarkably different.

I’ve lost a significant amount of weight and gone through more clothing sizes than I care to count. Sometimes I look in the mirror and still have trouble recognizing the person looking back at me. I can wear clothes now that I never would have imagined fitting into a few years ago.

But the most important changes aren’t the ones I can see in the mirror.

My diabetes is well controlled. I no longer need my CPAP. My migraines haven’t disappeared, and I still have some truly miserable ones, but they are no longer the nearly constant presence they once were. I have more energy, I feel better physically, and I can do things that would have been much more difficult just a few years ago.

Not every health problem has improved. The years of excess weight took a serious toll on my liver, and I was eventually diagnosed with cirrhosis. That’s something I’ll have to live with and carefully monitor for the rest of my life. My hope is that, with continued care, the disease will progress slowly enough that a liver transplant will remain a distant possibility rather than an immediate concern.

I’ve learned that improving your health doesn’t necessarily mean undoing every bit of damage that’s already been done. Sometimes it means doing everything you can to make the years ahead better than the ones behind you.

And that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.

Yet, when I think about how much my life has changed since moving to Vermont, my health is only part of the story.

One of the greatest surprises has been my career. When I moved here, I never dreamed that I would eventually have what I consider my dream job. I had always loved history, teaching, and museums, but I never expected to find a position that would allow me to combine all three.

My work has given me opportunities I couldn’t have imagined eleven years ago. I’ve worked with fascinating historical objects, helped preserve people’s stories, developed exhibitions and educational programs, and introduced countless students and visitors to history in ways that go far beyond what they might find in a textbook.

I’ve also had the opportunity to teach, something that has always been close to my heart. There is a special satisfaction in watching students make connections between the past and the present, especially when an object helps them understand something that previously seemed distant or abstract.

Looking back, I realize that my Southern upbringing and my love of history have come together in ways I never anticipated. The hospitality I learned growing up in Alabama has become just as valuable to my work as the historical knowledge I acquired through years of education and teaching. Helping people feel welcome to explore, ask questions, and discover something new is one of the most important things I contribute professionally.

Over the years, my responsibilities have grown, and I’ve found myself taking on new challenges that have pushed me professionally and personally. My current role is one I could never have imagined holding when I first arrived in Vermont. There are days when work is exhausting, frustrating, and overwhelming, but I still consider myself incredibly fortunate to do what I do.

How many people get to say they found a job they never knew they wanted, only to discover it was exactly where they belonged?

I’ve changed in other ways, too. I’ve become more confident, more willing to speak up for myself, and more comfortable in my own skin. I’ve learned that I can be a Southern gentleman, a gay man, a Christian, a historian, and a Vermonter without any of those identities having to cancel out the others. They are all parts of who I am.

My faith has changed over these eleven years as well. Grief challenged it in ways I never expected, and there were times when I questioned things I had believed for most of my life. Yet those struggles also helped me develop a deeper understanding of faith, one rooted less in rules and expectations and more in love, compassion, and acceptance.

I’ve also continued writing this blog, sharing my thoughts, memories, frustrations, hopes, and occasional embarrassments with all of you. In many ways, writing has helped me understand my own journey. Sometimes I don’t realize how much I’ve changed until I look back at something I wrote years ago.

And, of course, I can’t talk about my life in Vermont without mentioning Isabella. That little black cat came into my life in 2016 and has been my constant companion ever since. She has brought me an enormous amount of comfort, affection, and amusement, even if she does occasionally seem to believe that my sole purpose in life is to serve her every whim. She’s been with me through some of my darkest days, and I can’t imagine my life without her.

Not everything about these eleven years has been serious, though.

I still laugh when I remember those first days in Vermont, when I was unpacking boxes and sleeping on an air mattress because my bed hadn’t arrived yet. Apparently, my curiosity about the local gay population was stronger than my desire to finish unpacking, because I opened Grindr to see who was around.

My bed hadn’t arrived, but a man did.

We hooked up, and the amusing thing is that I still see him occasionally, sometimes by chance and sometimes by design. I suppose that’s one way to make yourself feel welcome in a new state. 😂

My romantic life hasn’t exactly turned out the way I hoped it might. I still haven’t found that special someone with whom to share my life. I’d be lying if I said that didn’t sometimes make me sad. But I haven’t given up hope. Eleven years ago, I couldn’t have imagined much of the life I have today, so who’s to say what might happen tomorrow?

I’ve made wonderful friends here, lost some friendships to time and distance, and learned that relationships don’t always remain what we expect them to be. I’ve experienced kindness, disappointment, laughter, loneliness, and moments of unexpected happiness. In other words, I’ve lived.

When I think about the man who arrived in Vermont eleven years ago, I wish I could tell him a few things. I’d tell him that the years ahead wouldn’t always be easy. That he would experience heartbreak and grief, struggle with his health, and sometimes wonder whether he’d made the right decisions.

But I’d also tell him that he would find a career he loved, build a life of his own, discover strengths he didn’t know he possessed, and gradually become more comfortable with the person he had always been.

Most importantly, I’d tell him that he would find a place where he belonged.

Vermont isn’t perfect. No place is. There are things I miss about Alabama, and there are certainly things about Vermont that can drive me crazy. Eleven winters have done little to convince me that bitter cold is one of life’s great pleasures. But somewhere along the way, Vermont stopped being the place I had moved to and became home.

Perhaps that’s the biggest change of all.

Eleven years ago, I came here hoping for a better life. I didn’t find a life without hardship, disappointment, or loss. What I found was the opportunity to build a life that felt more genuinely my own.

And as I look toward the years ahead, I realize that I’m not finished changing, growing, or discovering what life has in store for me.

For the first time in a long time, that thought fills me with more hope than fear.

A Late Start to Friday

I got to sleep late this morning—or at least what counts as sleeping late for me. I fed Isabella and went back to bed, and somehow managed to sleep until 5:30. I almost never get to sleep that late, and I probably could have slept even longer if Isabella hadn’t decided enough was enough. She has her schedule, after all, and apparently me sleeping late is not part of it. Eventually, I gave in to her persistence and got out of bed.

The only reason I could allow myself the luxury of going back to sleep in the first place is that I’m going into work late this morning. Before heading to the museum, I have to stop by my doctor’s office to have blood drawn for some routine tests. Unfortunately, that means I’m fasting, so I’m really missing my morning cup of coffee. Water just doesn’t quite have the same effect first thing in the morning.

Once I finally get to work, I’ll probably make myself a cup of tea and have a late breakfast. By then, I suspect I’ll be more than ready for both.

At least it’s Friday, and I’m definitely looking forward to the weekend. The weather is supposed to be beautiful, with sunny days that should make the fall colors look even more spectacular. This is one of the most beautiful times of year in Vermont, when the mountains and hillsides turn brilliant shades of red, orange, and gold.

After a busy few weeks, a quiet weekend with some sunshine and beautiful fall scenery sounds pretty wonderful to me. I hope everyone has a great Friday and an equally wonderful weekend!

Some Approximation of Awake

I stayed home yesterday with a migraine, and unfortunately, it’s still not completely gone this morning. I’m feeling better than I did yesterday, but I’m definitely not back to 100 percent. If I didn’t have so much to do, I could very easily convince myself to stay home again today.

Unfortunately, I have several upcoming classes to prepare for, and there’s only so much I can put off before the work starts piling up. Sometimes, even when you know another day of rest would probably do you good, responsibilities have other ideas. So, unless this migraine decides to take a turn for the worse, I’ll be heading into work and doing my best to get through everything that needs to be done.

At least Isabella was kind enough to let me sleep in a little this morning. I’m not sure whether that was an act of feline generosity or simply an oversight on her part, but I’ll take it. Now I’m awake—or at least some approximation of awake—with a cup of coffee in hand, trying to convince myself that I’m ready to face the day.

Hopefully, the coffee will work its magic, the lingering migraine will continue to fade, and I can have a productive day without overdoing it. Right now, though, I’d much rather crawl back into bed.

But the day awaits, so I suppose it’s time to get moving.

Not Quite the Weekend

It’s Friday, but unfortunately, it’s not quite the end of my work week. I have to work at the museum tomorrow. Thankfully, we’re no longer regularly open on Saturdays, so I usually only have to work one or two Saturdays a year for special events. Tomorrow just happens to be one of them.

There really isn’t much more to say today. I had a migraine last night and ended up going to bed early. I’m still feeling some mild effects from it this morning, but thankfully, I’m feeling far better than I was last night. Hopefully, those lingering effects will fade as the day goes on.

I did have a really lovely dream last night, though. I woke up in the middle of it and really wished it had continued when I fell back asleep. Maybe it did, but if so, I don’t remember it. I do remember enough to know that it was a very nice dream—and that the man in it was pretty wonderful. Too bad he wasn’t real.

So, this is going to be a short post because I really can’t think of anything else to write. Sometimes, there just isn’t much to say—and that’s okay.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

A Strange Day

Yesterday was kind of a strange day. Usually, when I have a migraine, it either comes on suddenly or is already there when I wake up. Sometimes the pain is mild enough that I can go about my day. Those are the migraines I have almost every day, and if I stay busy, I can usually push the pain to the back of my mind.

Other days, the pain is so intense that every smell, bright light, or noise makes it worse. Those are the migraines that hurt so much that even resting my head on a pillow is painful, and all I can do is hope I fall asleep quickly. I’ve had headaches intense enough to wake me in the middle of the night. Thankfully, the medications I take mostly prevent those severe migraines unless there is precipitation in the forecast, and even then, the medicine usually moderates them. Then there are migraines when the pain falls somewhere between those two extremes.

Yesterday’s migraine was different.

I saw an aura around lunchtime, and the migraine initially seemed like one of the milder ones—but it felt different in a way I can’t fully explain. At first, the worst part wasn’t the pain but the secondary symptoms. Noise was the least troublesome, but my sense of smell became incredibly intense. I had to stop by the grocery store on my way home, and the smells of the store and the people in it made it difficult not to vomit. The bakery, the seafood department, people wearing too much perfume, and those not wearing enough deodorant—what I call the “Vermont funk”—were all overwhelming. Light became almost as troublesome, so I spent most of last night in the dark.

As I said, my migraines usually come on suddenly and either remain at their original pain level or become much worse fairly quickly. This one began slowly and continued intensifying over several hours until the entire right side of my head was screaming in pain. Literally, the tinnitus became so loud that it felt as though my head were screaming. My right eye felt as if an ice pick had been driven through it and was coming out at the base of my skull. The pain covered the whole right side of my head, but it was most intense in those two places.

Another symptom was what is often called migraine brain fog or cognitive dysfunction. I struggled to concentrate, follow a conversation, or formulate a response. Even the simplest thoughts required more effort than they should have.

I was relieved when I finally managed to fall asleep, and I woke up feeling much better. I still have a shadow headache this morning, but I can handle that. I have too much work to do as I prepare for classes and meetings, so perhaps staying busy will help keep it in the background. I’m just praying that this shadow migraine remains a shadow and doesn’t decide to return in full force.

Thursday

Today is one of those days when I wish I could stay in bed all day. I went to bed early last night because I had a migraine that was steadily getting worse. I still have a dull headache this morning, along with the foggy-headed feeling neurologists call the postdrome phase—sometimes referred to as a “migraine hangover.”

If Isabella hadn’t demanded breakfast and nature hadn’t called, I would probably still be in bed instead of writing this. Unless the headache and fogginess get worse, though, I’ll go to work today. It usually improves once I’ve been awake and moving for a while. I still have plenty to do at work, so staying busy should help push the headache to the back of my mind—and hopefully make the day pass a little faster.

Anyway, have a great day, everyone!

Interrupted Dreams

Last night was a strange night. I’d had a migraine for most of the afternoon and evening, and it was bad enough that I took a late-afternoon nap. The nap didn’t help the migraine, but eventually it eased enough that I could read. I got really into my book and finally had to make myself put it down around 10:30 and turn out the lights. Unfortunately, turning out the lights did not mean falling asleep. So, I resorted to a time-honored tradition that many guys have used to help themselves fall asleep. It worked, and sometime after 11, I finally drifted off to sleep.

Isabella had been trying to get me to go to bed since around 9 pm. Apparently, she knew perfectly well that regardless of how late I stayed up, she wasn’t changing her schedule. Sure enough, at 4 am, she woke me up to feed her.

She also woke me from a rather odd dream. I didn’t appear to be in the dream at all, and all I’ll say about the subject matter is that it had the plot of some fairly kinky porn. I seemed to be watching everything from above, almost as if I were watching a movie rather than participating in the dream. After Isabella roused me and I fed her, I went back to bed.

That’s when something even more unusual happened: I went back to dreaming, and the new dream seemed to continue the previous one. Somewhere along the way, though, the kinky porn plot began turning into a love story that appeared to be heading toward a throuple. Eventually, that dream ended and another began. This time I was actually in the dream, but it was much more romantic than erotic.

I’ve mentioned before that remembering dreams has never happened very often for me. You might remember Saturday’s “Moment of Zen: Sweet Dreams,” and I’m guessing some of you figured out that it was inspired by waking from an erotic dream. Strangely enough, I wasn’t in that dream either. Again, it was more like watching a movie. Judging by the state of certain parts of my anatomy when I woke up, however, apparently I’d found the movie pretty sexy.

I didn’t remember that dream nearly as clearly as I remember this morning’s dreams. Then, another morning last week, I woke remembering a dream that wasn’t erotic at all but much more mundane. So, for whatever reason, I seem to be going through a period of unusually vivid and memorable dreams. I’m not sure why. If I’d started a new medication, I might blame that, but nothing has really changed.

Sadly, all those dreams did nothing for my migraine. I still have it this morning, but I’m going to work. If I called out sick today, it would mean I’d missed three of the last four Mondays because of a migraine. They’ve all been legitimate migraines, but I also know how people can gossip when someone seems to miss work on a regular schedule. I don’t want it to start looking like I’ve developed a convenient case of the Mondays.

If the migraine gets worse—or simply doesn’t get any better as the day goes on—I may come back home. For now, though, I’m going to give Monday a try.

Needless to say, between too little sleep, bizarre dreams, and a lingering migraine, I’m looking forward to this Monday even less than usual.

Hello, Hello, Hello

I have a doctor’s appointment this morning. I had planned to take the whole day off, but something came up at work, so I’ll have to go in for part of the day.

I was also off yesterday for my Botox appointment. I always take the whole day off when I have Botox treatments for my migraines because my head is almost always sore afterward. I’m sure anyone’s would be after 37 injections in the head, neck, and shoulders. Sometimes the soreness itself causes a headache, which was the case yesterday, so I was very glad I didn’t have to go back to work after the procedure.

Today’s appointment should be much easier. It’s just my regular checkup. I know some people hate going to the doctor, but I actually enjoy seeing mine. I really like him, and I can already hear him knocking on the exam room door and saying, “Hello, hello, hello,” as he walks in.

He’s a really nice guy, and he has been incredibly supportive of my health over the years. He’s been there for me through so much during the past ten years, through good times and bad, and I’ve always felt like he genuinely cares about how I’m doing. At this point, going for a checkup feels a little like seeing a friend you haven’t seen in a while.

Hopefully, everything will be good at my appointment, and then it’s off to work for the rest of the day. Not quite the day off I had planned, but at least tomorrow is Friday!

Almost Friday

It’s Thursday, and there really isn’t much to say this morning. I’m drinking my coffee and contemplating the day ahead—which reminds me, I need to stop and get more coffee on the way home. Running out of coffee is not a situation I want to find myself in tomorrow morning.

The only thing on my agenda today is an appointment with my podiatrist this afternoon, so I’m only working half a day. I certainly won’t complain about a short workday, especially this close to the weekend.

Otherwise, it should be a fairly quiet Thursday. Sometimes, there just isn’t much going on, and that’s perfectly fine.

Have a great day, everyone! The weekend is almost here.

Healing for Body and Spirit

“‘But I will restore you to health and heal your wounds,’ declares the Lord.”

—Jeremiah 30:17

Yesterday, I took a bad tumble while hiking, leaving me scraped, bruised, and aching all over this morning. It brought to mind the comfort Scripture offers whenever we are hurting, whether those wounds are physical or emotional.

Some days, we simply do not feel well. Our bodies ache, illness drains our strength, or an injury reminds us that we are more fragile than we would like to admit. At other times, the wounds are hidden—grief, loneliness, disappointment, or the quiet exhaustion of carrying too much for too long.

God cares about all these wounds. Jeremiah’s promise of restoration was originally given to a people who had suffered physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Their healing would not happen all at once, but God had not forgotten them. He was still at work restoring what hardship had broken.

James also reminds us that we do not have to endure suffering entirely alone: “Is anyone among you sick? Let them call the elders of the church to pray over them… And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up” (James 5:14–15). Prayer does not always bring the immediate healing we hope for, but it places us—and those we love—within the compassionate care of God and the supportive embrace of our community.

Whether our pain is physical or emotional, we can turn to God when we feel weak. Healing may come through medicine, rest, time, the kindness of others, or strength enough to face another day. Whatever form it takes, we can trust that God sees every wound, remains beside us in our suffering, and continues the patient work of making us whole.