It is not the fairest arrangement in the world, the migraine sufferer and reality and the little dance that we have with one another over and over again.
The day started off well, I got three big pieces written, two of which I am pretty happy with and I was going to start on a fourth when it felt like the hammers of Hades clamped on to my skull and they have been planted there ever since. Ia m not asking for your pity or your advice, I know what limited things I can do and I have done them. I know you all feel bad or me, and I appreciate the non-patronizing ones among you. I do not want links to websites telling me to soak my feet, freeze my skull, electroshock, diversion therapy, endorphin release and the thousands of other things that some good meaning people, and some horrible shills, have posted on the Internet over the last decade or two.
You know what I want, honestly? If you said yes then this next part is going to get a little graphic. If you said no, look at something else and come back and read something new by me tomorrow, or don’t.
I want to be able to wake up and not smell blood. I haven’t woken up when my migraines are bad, without a bloody something in YEARS. Eyes, nose, ears, biting my mouth raw, nipping parts off my tongue. Or maybe not grinding my teeth, talking in my sleep so loud I wake others up. Being so hot that I have had the air conditioner on for years without abatement. I want to stand up and not feel the world spinning, I want to sit down and not have my pulse pound in my temples like a runaway locomotive. I want to wake up at the ghastly hours I need to and simply be a whole person, a complete and whole person who is not broken and losing bodily fluids, in agonizing pain, or the ever-present wall of depression, anxiety and self-loathing that comes with knowing I am not going to be able to do the things I wanted to do for yet another day.
I don’t even want that every day, I would take one day a month. I would take one doctor’s appointment a year where they even believed me anymore. Y’all ever wonder why they never change my medication to try something new? They either think it is terminal or they think I am lying my ass off for the free, non-narcotic, medications they give me that take so little off the edge of things that they might as well do nothing at all.
So yes, I am bitching my head hurting, and yes, it dramatically affects my mood, and yes I would do anything to make it all stop, and yes, even that thing crosses my head from time to time.