In which my head blows up

Yesterday, I was reading a blog from one of my co-bloggers, Dad Gone Mad. He was talking about his first migraine and how he only thought he knew what they were about until he’d had one himself. I think this is true about many things, including mental illness—the idea that until you experience it first hand, you really have no idea what you are talking about when you write it off as something that someone should be able to pull himself or herself out of or “suck it up.”

I don’t remember my first migraine, but I remember when they started. I was about 6 months pregnant and, like many of my current maladies, all began with the amazing hormone change that was brought about by one of the loves of my life, AJ. AJ just happened to go with me to my last neurologist appointment, which was, incidentally, my first appointment with this particular neurologist. When he asked when they started, and I replied that they occurred when I had AJ, the neurologist showed a wicked sense of humor, turned to AJ and said, “Ah, so it’s all your fault, then?”

Well, yeah, maybe. Or, maybe I was predetermined to have them as I got older. I don’t know half of my medical history, so I’m missing an important link as far as these are concerned. My mom has only had them for the last few years, but I started mine in my early twenties.

It could be because I’m more tightly wound than most. My levels of stress and anxiety tend to be through the roof. I have to moderate myself carefully to keep them at a manageable level. It means that I have to be very self-aware to avoid a meltdown. I’m usually successful. For me, that is. But stress isn’t my only trigger. Rain, stress, not enough sleep, too much sleep, waiting to long to eat, too much sugar, not enough sugar, msg and caffeine are all triggers for me too. Count noise and light in as well. I’m a sensitive little bugger.

I’ve pretty well given up caffeine, except for chocolate. Don’t ask me to give up chocolate. I rarely eat it as it is, but I won’t give it up completely. Since I’ve been eating more healthfully, my migraines have decreased to about once a month when they were at 3-4 per week. I consider that a success.

There is no doubt they are debilitating. When I’ve got one, I’m not going anywhere. I’m sick to my stomach, with an ice pack on my head and in bed with my Duder dog, who is sensitive to my moods and will not leave my side when I have a migraine. I may lay there for 2 days completely awake, but in pain. I have to give up weekends with my family and even work during them, at times, if I can. It’s been termed chronic pain and just like any other chronic pain it doesn’t truly go away for good. It’s always there. Lurking. Like those bad pictures you took in the 8th grade that you know someone will find and put on Access Hollywood if you were to ever become famous.

I’m just learning to manage it. I’m sorry that Dad Gone Mad had to experience what he did. I’m grateful, though, for one more person that truly understands what the experience is like and has more empathy, however.