Dr of Chi, Gayle worked on my sacroiliac this morning…mostly. The rain is here and 40° weather, but my head wasn’t too bad this morning. I described it as a veil of pain in the right side of my head.
The acupuncture treatment was great (and *only* $82. with no insurance coverage) and my hips and back still feel good tonight. I developed a hematoma from one needle on my right outer thigh. Ow. My head, however, only lasted 45 minutes. Then the migraine began to blossom. I skipped the senior parent meeting because I’d forgotten a jacket and was too cold. But was on my way to see Shanna for EMDR after noon when my head was doing it’s thing.
I’ve started “reading” again with Audible. Because reading books hurts my head too much (😢). I love reading. However, with so much driving to appointments, Audible should work out great.
Shanna’s appt was very good…and very painful. She worked on my head for quite awhile – integrated EMDR and cranial compression, but the thing was not budging. I told her it was “dug in like an Alabama tick.” And had she ever seen the movie Predator? Because I talk in movie quotes.
I wondered to her if the quote was an insult to Alabamans, but we didn’t think so.
The tears were flowing today… brought on by migraine and unstable depression and she told me I didn’t have to wipe them away. I told her my depression had been out of control lately and she was intent to hear more. I admitted that my depression wouldn’t be such a problem if I didn’t suck so bad. Valid observation, surely.
She asked me to describe my depression to her and I went off on the Black Box description that I’ve used for so many years: Black Box, can’t feel the bottom, don’t know how to climb out, a complete sense of Aloneness… Absolutely terrifying. What she said next was facsinating. Apparently, this is not an unusual description from people who battle depression and have also had a narcissistic parent. In fact, it’s a theme. She thinks it goes back to “the crib.” Where as a young child, a mortal fear developed – somehow. Not intentionally, of course.
I sat there slack-jawed. Omg. This was a theme? 😲 Wowza.
When she took me out of the box during EMDR (she used the doggies since I couldn’t *find* a way out by myself), she asked me to connect with Marc. I found this part nearly impossible. Because if I connected with him, would he not be exposed to the Blackness? That concept horrified me; I had to protect him.
The rain continued all day. And my migraine mounted. I finally tried to open a Maxalt triptan about 5pm.
This day… 4 years ago… I discovered I was a “thing” and not a total Freak! I was slowly opening up and Speaking My Migraine. I was learning that I wasn’t all alone. My college friend Heather would take notice of my “honesty Facebook posts” (no doubt annoying to many!) and in the course of under a year, put me in contact with hundreds of people Just. Like. Me.
My first migraine was at age 6. But I wouldn’t become Chronic until I was in my mid-30’s.
At that time, I knew of only one other living soul who struggled with migraines daily.
I was completely alone. I covered my illness. I covered my pain. I hid my confusion; I was utterly and totally ALONE. I was dancing as fast as I could to appear “normal.” I threw back ibuprofen daily and smiled…and worked at a job I loved as an RN and took care of my 4 kids and cleaned and made dinner and shopped for groceries and attended kid concerts/performances and drove to football practices and soccer games and helped with school projects. I was alone. I had no help. And I was in desperate, desperate NEED of h e l p. I was screaming for help…and no one was listening.
I was completely ALONE. I was dying inside… I was hollow and dying. When I found myself alone at home for an hour or two during the week, I couldn’t clean (like I was supposed to be doing), I would lay on the cold concrete kitchen floor and weep. I wanted only to die…to end my pain which had co-mingled with my depression and anxiety into this warped huge, terrifying monster inside me. I was convinced I must be a Freak. I knew my children would be better off without me in their lives. I knew my husband would be better off without me. I had planned it… When I was dead, he could hire a housekeeper to care for the house and mind the children; she would be a much better mother than I was.
I was vaguely aware this thinking must have some flaws in it. I’d take my phone out and, through the tears, scroll my contacts…searching for a name, any name of someone I could talk to; I could connect with. Scrolling….scrolling…scrolling…I passed each name, considered it, and kept scrolling. Some were friends I’d known for years and years. Some were family. Others claimed to be my best friend. But each of the names just left me empty. I judged they wouldn’t care or understand. Not one of them was an option to call.
Maybe if I could just cut myself…put the pain somewhere else…take it from my heart and my head? Maybe I could lie on the floor weeping until all the tears were gone? Or my kids would come home from school and I’d be needed to make them dinner or drive them somewhere. Always, always having to go out in public. With my stupid smile and mask of Normal.
I look back on that time and cannot believe I survived such isolation and Despair. No one knows or really even cares but me. It scares me to think of just how low I’d fallen.
I climbed out by myself. Spoke with my doctor about medication, found a counselor who cared and understood. I think back on that time… I think about the obliviousness of my “friends” and family. And it terrifies me.
Could someone like me be out there in the light…all alone?
And that’s why I Speak My Migraine. That’s why I won’t shut up. I was DYING in plain sight. Could someone else be suffering too? Do they realize they are NOT alone?
So much pain. Emotional and physical.
Push it out, push it away.
But I know this pain. It used to alarm me. Maybe it still does? Maybe this is the time I slip? Just a lot of talk. It hurts so much that anyone showing compassion brings me to my knees, to tears.