The other night, I went to bed and I slipped out of my body. I was about four feet above myself, looking down at my body beneath the covers, when I realized what was happening and returned home. I notice I do this more often lately. Especially over the past year, and especially over this past winter spent in Pennsylvania.

As much as I love where I am living, the climate here has definitely had a negative effect on my trigeminal neuralgia, which is possibly the understatement of the year.

The song “Comfortably Numb” has taken on an entirely new meaning for me. I have always enjoyed Pink Floyd, and it has always been one of my favorite songs, but ever since my hospital visit in 2013, for some reason it brings me back to that day. Back to the hospital. Back to those moments when the nurses and doctors pumped me full of non-narcotic pain medication, and asked me over and over, “Is that better? Is that better?” and I said, “It hurts… it hurts… it hurts.” And the doctor said, “Don’t worry, we’ll find out what these headaches are,” but their reassurances were only empty promises.

Ever since that summer, I have not been the same person. Many a time, I have burst into tears just thinking about it, but crying never helps. Sometimes I am walking along, moving through my house, and all of a sudden I drift out of my body. I float above my head, then pop back into my physical form. As much as I know I have work to do here on Earth, I enjoy leaving my body. Leaving that stinging needle pain, that aching, that constant burn, and the varying other pains that cross my face and neck daily.

I think it’s interesting that I can do this, though it’s never good to make a habit of it. Remain grounded. We are here for a reason, to learn, to do good for ourselves and for others. At night, I sleep, and I become “Comfortably Numb.” Staying within myself is paramount.

But sometimes, it is a struggle.