Migraine King of My Head

Sometimes I feel like Mr Migraine is the king of my head. It comes when it pleases, and keeps me prisoner in my own body. Another day, another migraine. Another day taken over, ruined by the pulsating nauseous ridiculous pain of a migraine that rules in my head like a king. Nausea. Room spinning. Feeling like a knife is plunged deep into my skull as the migraine viciously contracts and expands my brain. What can I do? Except sleep? Except bury myself under the covers. Feeling yet again like a failure, for being irritable, for being in  bad mood. Alarmingly the isolation factor and the upset factor doesn’t help decrease the migraine. It only turns the migraine up a notch. I feel like a failure for allowing this migraine to command and boss my head around.  I feel like a failure for being irritable, for being negative, for being un-supportive and for not knowing what to do with a head that does not seem to function.  For not being more loving. I feel like a failure because I simply could not beat this migraine when I was so determined for it not steal another day of my life.   I want to die in the moment because the pain is unbearable. But I grit my teeth, determined to get through another day, another migraine.

The tears gush out. The left eye is drooping. The left ear is crashing. It is throbbing alongside the left side of the pain. It feels like someone has stuffed a knife deep into my skull on the left side of my head just above my eye, and all I can do is curl up into my bed and try and sleep it off. I don’t always want to take medication to rescue myself from a bad migraine. I can’t become an inmate to medicine that doesn’t work anyways. I feel totally alone. Totally alone and isolated. I feel like I am on a battle field where no one seems to care. Where no one seems to check in on me and ask ‘Hannah are you OK.’ It is just one bad negative day in weeks of trying to stay upbeat, of trying to remain calm and stress free. And then when the bad day comes – I get told off for being negative.  I feel like its my fault for not being able to let go. For not being able to let go of all the negative emotions, as my head roars in pain, and the migraine laughs at me, and tries and creates upsets where there shouldn’t be upsets. It whispers in my ear louder and louder like a gushing storm you are a failure. You are a failure. And I am weeping because I can’t cope with the pain.  Mr Migraine takes away my well balanced, well-established peace.

Through this pain, I stumble out of bed. Determined not to let the migraine be the king of my head, get dressed slowly as not to aggravate the pain, to not make the pain even more angry, even more aggressive. I don’t even think of eating – it’ll only make it worse. I make my way slowly out of the house into the fresh air, and attempt to go to work, only by the time I am on the tube I already regret it. It was a mistake. The movement, the noise, the light makes it even worse, and I grapple to hold onto something as everything spins out of control. I lean my head on a random stranger in the tube, because I feel like I am falling, falling into a quagmire of swampy endless discomfort. Mr Migraine is not my friend. I am drowning, and I am determined to beat this thing. Except I have failed. I make it to work. I last 10 minutes, before a colleague says ‘You don’t look good, Hannah, go home’. I argue and say I don’t want to create a bad impression. I want my employers to think good of me. But Mr Migraine has beat me again. Has beaten me hard.  Has beaten me senseless that I can barely move, that I can barely make it home in one piece. I make my way back out of the sorry looking building and go home. It seems like an eternity before I get home. I feel nauseous. Every bump, every movement is felt acutely, the painkillers aren’t stilling the pain. They don’t numb the pain. I just want my bed.

I finally crash. I crash land in bed, with the covers pulled up closely to my chin. Another blanket thrown over my eyes and I fall in a restless slumber of endless pain. I can’t turn or move – it only provokes, irritates Mr Migraine even more. So I lay still – hoping, praying, wondering when this will all come to an end. With a heat pack over my head. I wonder why I am being punished? Why me? Why do I get stuck with the migraines? Why can they not go away?

Mr. Migraine is not just a headache. It’s debilitating. It hunts you down, and knocks you out and you become a prisoner of this migraine. It pretends to be your friend. The gentle throbbing of another headache lures you into a false sense of security believing that it won’t happen, and yet it happens. It totally knocks you out. Unprepared. Forgotten how bad the last attack was. I learn the hard way. I need to be prepared. I need to make a diary of when the migraines come. So that I can fight it back.  But can I? Can I fight this when they seem to be getting more vicious by the moment?

Today I failed. Today the migraine beat me. Today the migraine made me feel in a bad mood. Today the migraine made me feel irritable. Today the migraine made me feel negative. Today the migraine stole my peace. Today I feel insecure and unworthy. Today I feel unlovable. Today I feel all alone and isolated. Today I don’t want to fight this nasty thing again.  I want to be free like a butterfly. That is what I want. Today I don’t want migraines to take over my life anymore. Today I just want understanding, patience, and love. That is all I ask.

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