It Feels Like Letting Go

In the months since launching this website, I’ve received hundreds of emails from other hydrocephalus patients, family members, and supporters. The overwhelmingly common theme of these messages has simply been “how do you cope with the frustration?” Truthfully, I really don’t have a good answer for this question.  I can only let you know that if you are dealing with the aggravation, discouragement, and fatigue of life with hydro (or any other illness, for that matter), you are not alone - and I am definitely no exception; I am frustrated too. Clifton and I have put ourselves out there by sharing our story, and one of our big messages to the community has been to take an aggressive, proactive, multi-disciplinary approach to overall health - and to work as hard as you can to control the factors that you can. But sometimes, you just have to let go, stop trying to fight at every single turn, and just trust the people around you to catch you as you fall into their arms - literally and figuratively. 


So, this is where I’m at. Since my last blog post a few weeks ago, we have been re-grouping and making some adjustments to my overall rehabilitation plan. I’m four months post-op now, and while I am physically the strongest I have ever been, and emotionally I am happy and at peace, my headache pain is once again off the charts - and the decision has been made to try to let my brain rest a little bit, while we have the chance. Even though I’m in pain, my medical team doesn’t have reason to believe my shunt is failing, so now is the time to take these steps back. On one hand, I’m relieved and content to wait it out for a while, just treat the pain as I can, and live my life quietly - outside the arena. I need the rest, especially since I haven’t had the best track record for time between surgeries these past few years. But on the other hand, it’s frustrating and disheartening, and it’s definitely not my nature sit out of the battle, and not push for constant improvement. Pain is a lonely island - especially when you are well enough that the outside world believes you are completely “normal”. Let’s be honest… I’m basically the queen of “fake it ’til you make it”. 
However, I need this right now. 
I need this time to walk alone and reset my resolve. 
I need this time to pull back and start over. 
And my brain needs a minute.. or a few weeks. 

There is a Matthew Perryman Jones record that I’ve had on repeat the past couple weeks, called Feels Like Letting Go. It pretty much sums up how I’m feeling.


Oh my love 
help me open my heart again 
tear it open let the rain fall in 
wash this hardness underneath my skin 

Oh my love 
let me hear your voice come through
I wanna know the love inside of you
make this dark heart believe in what is true

I know that in the dark there's a fear of letting go
I know that in my heart that I fear what I don't know
and this feels like I'm letting go
and this feels like I'm letting go
I'm letting go


If you follow this blog or have read the content of this website, you know that music is a crucial part of my life, and my recovery process. Although I’ve been a musician for most of my life, it wasn’t until this past year that I learned the profound physical affect that music and rhythm can have to soothe the central nervous system. Music also has a powerful way of putting words and melody to emotions you can’t otherwise explain. On my Instagram account, I regularly share music that I’m listening to, and I am starting to create and share #musicheals playlists on my Spotify account, because I believe that music is both a language and a fellowship, and it is created to be shared. 


I hope that wherever you are tonight, you can be still, breathe, and listen to some music. We’re all in this together. Stay in the arena when you can, and take a break when you need to.  

In relentless pursuit, 
Am