Spring and the beginning of the astrological new year – but also simply the new year in many cultures – encourage reflections on cyclicality. I probably won’t write anything groundbreaking here, but I recently reminded myself once again just how important this topic is, which is why I believe it’s worth bringing up. Even more often than once a year.
At the beginning of March, I was traveling to Warsaw for work, and on the day of my departure, I felt exceptionally awful right from the morning. Luckily, my train wasn’t until the afternoon, so during the day, I managed to lie down for a bit, made sure to drink a few glasses of water, and did some energy work. Everything seemed fine until I got on the tram and noticed I was having trouble perceiving human faces out the window. I mean, I saw them, but it was hard for me to figure out where the nose was, where the mouth was, and where the face actually ended, and the neck began. That’s when the thought crossed my mind that it was an aura- a pre-migraine state that rather unpleasantly heralds an impending headache. My doubts were dispelled as soon as I set foot in the train station, because the symptoms became much more typical for me. My vision started moving and shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow. I found an empty bench at the very end of the platform I was leaving from and wrestled with my thoughts: to go or not to go? To take the medication I got from my neurologist (but hadn’t yet had the chance to test out) or not? And finally: “Why is this happening to me again?!”.
The question arose because exactly a year ago, I had a series of migraines that took me out of life for a week, but at the same time, they encouraged me to undergo in-depth diagnostics that I had been putting off or hadn’t even considered. Thanks to this, I got glasses I didn’t even know I needed, checked if my wisdom tooth was planning a sabotage mission against the molar it resides under, and finally – although this happened a few months later – I received an ADHD diagnosis (which I also didn’t expect, but that’s a story for another time). Of course, I also looked into tensions in my energy field, went to physical therapy, exercised more – in short: a model patient. So why was I suddenly sitting on a bench at the train station, assessing whether I was seeing the “Wrocław Główny” sign better or worse, and wondering if I would even be able to make it to the train doors and find my seat? And then, whether I would survive the nearly four-hour journey with what would undoubtedly be a splitting headache, nausea, and chills.
Even though general exhaustion and stress made me want to cry, I also noticed that internally I was quite calm. My natural reaction in such situations is to flee: to what is safe, to what is known, and most importantly: to a place without people. Here, however, I felt a certain inner peace, even though I was in a space that was the exact opposite of what I would naturally seek out. I decided to take the medication, and since my Capricorn nature had brought me to the station well in advance, the aura began to pass by the time the train pulled into the platform, and I regained my full range of vision. The journey wasn’t the most pleasant, but it definitely could have been worse. A year earlier, getting through it would have been impossible. For the next few days, I felt a relapse hanging in the air, but ultimately it never came. I was, however, left with a few reflections.
First of all, it hit me how far I’ve come since last year, when the first attack caused absolute terror that I was losing my sight. I also knew I had to massage my neck, my collarbone area, my temples, and my jaw, because those are the areas that tense up the most for me. Immobilized in my train seat and unable to read or watch anything, I observed my emotions and thoughts. I noticed that I have more space and resilience within me for such situations, which, although unpleasant, no longer dictate my course of action.
It’s in human nature to look far ahead or dwell on the past, and it’s especially hard for us to be in the here and now. That’s when cyclicality comes to the rescue, bringing us to a place that is the past, present, and future all at the same time. I was here a year ago, and I remember how I reacted, how I felt, and what caused it. I am here now- I see what has changed, what I don’t appreciate daily, or what is harder for me to observe. I will return here in the future, so I can already ask myself: is there anything I can do now so that the future me will thank me for it?
When the question “Why is this coming back again?!” pops up once more, it’s worth recalling the illustration of a circle and a spiral. I don’t remember where I saw it for the first time (by no means is it my original concept), but I consider it incredibly important and a great illustration of the heart of the matter. Although it might seem to us that we are returning to the exact same place (a top-down view showing a circle), we are actually moving along a spiral. Even if the circumstances are similar, our approach, our perspective, and our resources are constantly evolving (a side view). This evolution probably isn’t always so regular, but that doesn’t change the fact that there is tremendous potential in repetition, and unpleasant situations can lead to positive observations and ultimately strengthen and motivate us.