My head hurts.

Yes, I am suffering from the common malady: a headache.

I know exactly what I can do to help it go away. Take two Excedrin, drink a bunch of water, have a snack (I haven’t eaten in six hours) and sniff peppermint oil (trust me, it works) and within a half an hour I will feel considerably better. Yet for the past two hours or so (since the headache started) I have done none of those things.

Instead, I have just felt sorry for myself. I also complained to my husband and one of my kids, who happened to walk by, that my head hurts. Also, I thought about posting that I have a headache on my Facebook status and considered texting my best friend to let her know that my head hurt, but I didn’t think it to be interesting or compelling enough to bother (pretty sure that was a good call). But actually do something about it, nope.

The result: I have had pain for at least 90 minutes that I did not need to have and that, in fact, I am very much in control of overcoming. And instead of doing anything productive to cure it, I just ruminated about it. What is wrong with me? Why would I be in pain, able to get out of pain, and choose not to take action?

Then it hit me: this is a fantastic analogy for many of the small, annoying problems of life. How often my figurative headaches, like my literal headache, grind at me and yet I choose not to do the simple acts that would solve them.

So, what was I thinking?

If I ignore it, it maybe it will go away. Maybe if I just ignored it long enough, my headache would go away without me having to do anything about it. While in this case that is likely true, why wouldn’t I do something to speed up the process?

It’s really not that bad, so why bother. As far as headaches go, this is not a serious one, so instead of dealing with it quickly before it gets worse, I do nothing. Yet, wouldn’t it be better to deal with a problem when it is small, instead of when it is large?

It is really inconvenient to deal with this. I didn’t want to get out of my bed. Plain and simple. It’s warm and cozy in here. Not so warm and cozy not in here. The things that would help me get over my headache were not immediately in front of me. I would have to go downstairs to get food, a bottle of water and the Excedrin. I would have to find what I did with the peppermint oil. I would have to stop my other activities (watching TV, wasting time on the internet and writing this blog post) to take care of the problem. But really, let’s be honest, the big barrier was leaving my bed. In other words, in favor of avoiding short-term discomfort (getting out of bed) I put up with longer-term discomfort (a headache).

I don’t want to ask for help. I know that if I asked my husband to get me the water, aspirin and make me a snack, he would. But I was unwilling to ask him because I didn’t want to appear lazy (which I am, see reason just above) and I didn’t want to inconvenience him (which it would, but he would have done it because he is pretty nice to me).

The lesson: My ability to deal with any “headache” is in direct correlation with my willingness to take care of it.

A half an hour has passed since I decided to pause writing this blog post. I did, in fact, go find Excedrin, make a snack and drank a huge bottle of water. And –surprise—my headache is gone! In fact, I feel pretty good. How long did it take me to do all of the things that resulted in me feeling better? Less than 5 minutes. How long did I suffer from the headache needlessly before I was finally motivated to deal with it? Over an hour and a half. How stupid am I? Don't answer that.

Will I remember this next time I have a headache—literally or figuratively? I certainly hope so. Now, on to tackle some of the figurative headaches that have piled up in my inbox.

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