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Angel Of The Migraines

by | Jul 22, 2015 | Caregiver, Chronic Illness, How To Help A Friend With Chronic Illness, Medical Mystery Tour, Migraines, Pain And Pain Disorders | 8 comments

I have a wonderful life.  Great husband, great family, and I love my job…it’s not perfect, but it’s good.

Except…

For flippin’ migraines.

Growing up I got one in a blue moon and really, they were bad, but I wasn’t stressed out about them.

I’d just get one and think, “Oh, this sucks. I have a migraine.” And I’d take some medicine, drink some really strong instant tea and it would go away.  Later, I’d get them and take a cocktail of Benadryl and ibuprofen to go to sleep and it wouldn’t be a big deal.

Five years ago, I woke up one morning, laid in bed for a little bit with my husband, got up and started to get ready to leave town for my grandmother’s funeral.  I bent over to pick something up off the floor, stood up and next thing I know I hear my husband yelling “Jennifer! Jennifer! Open your eyes and look at me! Jennifer!” What the heck? Why?  Then I realize I’m in a really weird position.

One doesn’t normally find herself sitting in her laundry basket.

Then I realize I’m still naked.  Then I realize I need to throw up.  Then I realize the only other time I’ve seen my husband so scared was when I passed out from a fever a couple years before. And can I say that since my step-son’s best friend at the time was one of the EMTs working, I’m really happy my husband didn’t call 911 so he could find me naked in my laundry basket?  What does it say about me that I’m more worried about that than the fact that I was unconscious and naked in my laundry basket?

So that set off a round of doctors, emergency rooms, MRIs, CT scans, and heart monitors. And daily migraines.  Yep, I said daily migraines.  My husband’s thought is that I hit my head against the wall when I passed out, and maybe it knocked something haywire even though my head didn’t hurt and no damage has been found.  The best news out of all of this is that I actually have a brain.  I have pictures.  It’s there.  Contrary to some people’s belief I do have more than just empty space between my ears.

So I went 6 months having daily migraines.  I was taking a cocktail of medications to manage the pain, because these are not normally the type that are aided by Imitrex or things like that. I had to take an anti-inflammatory, a pain medication, muscle relaxer, and my dear old friend Benadryl to get rid of the pain.  And I needed to sleep. I was working in a place that had a lot of chemicals, so after 6 months of working half days we decided that it was best if I found a new job.  So I did.  And my migraines have dialed down to a couple a week.

I have two kinds of migraines, which is part of my problem.

I have the classic which is where you get the aura and have squiggly lines in your vision and it feels like someone is jabbing an icepick in your brain.  Those are rare for me. Then I have my normal ones where it feels like the angel of migraines came with his boxing gloves to punch me in the left eye. It’s always the left side. And either I wake up with it or suddenly I realize, “Oh, hey, I have a migraine”.  There’s no warning like the others.  And with my normal ones there are three levels of pain.  “Oh, hey, my head hurts.  Ok.” is the mildest. Then there are the ones like today, “Crap my head hurts, but I can function so here I am, but leave me alone”. And then the worst are the “Oh freakin’ hell, somebody kill me now!”

Recently, I’ve been introduced to a new circle of hell – the DOUBLE migraine.  Really?

Because the others weren’t bad enough?  This is where I get one aura, my head starts to hurt really bad, then after that aura goes away I get another one about 20 minutes later.  Seriously!

The pain from that is excruciating and double.

Along with my own personal pain and agony that goes along with these migraines, I have to deal with other people.  Most of my migraines are like today.  I look fine.  I’m at work.  I’m functioning.  I’m typing a flippin’ blog for crying out loud.  If you’re paying attention, I look like I’m a little off.  But to the casual observer I look fine.  Something may come up and I’ll say “Oh, I’ve got a migraine.”

But when they’re bad enough I need to call in to work, load up on drugs and sleep all day, I get “but you could work the other day”.  Yeah, out of sheer force of will and there was too much I had to do.  And then there’s my husband.  He’s the only person on the planet I wish would get just one migraine.  Just one.  I don’t get them just to ruin his plans.  I don’t get them because I just want to miss a day of work.  I don’t get them to get out of cleaning.  There are the granddaughters. God bless them.  I hate it the most for them.  There are times it is impossible for us to be in the same house when I have a migraine.  And unfortunately, they’ve learned to ask “Do you have a headache?” when they come over and something seems off.  They still need to be able to be little girls, so I try to tell whoever is responsible for them that they don’t have to be quiet and if they want to come give me a hug it is really okay.  But most of all, it’s the people that want to offer me solutions.  Like I haven’t tried everything already.  And 5 1/2 years later, I have a pretty good idea what causes them, but you just can’t avoid the weather.  Although, I kinda like my husband’s ex-mother-in-law’s idea…medicinal marijuana.  I really hate being perceived as a whiny-a$$ baby who complains all the time, so I don’t share with many people.

So there’s my migraine rant.  I hate them and they hate me.  I hate that it inconveniences others.

But there’s nothing I can do about it.

A Letter I Can’t Send: You And Me

by | Jul 15, 2015 | A Letter I Can't Send, Abandonment, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Boundaries, Family, Fear, Grief, Help For Grief And Grieving, How To Help A Friend Whose Child Is Seriously Ill, Loss, Pediatric Caregiver, Pediatric Mental Illness, Relational Aggression, Sadness, Stress, Teen Bullying, Trauma, Trust | 5 comments

You have broken my heart;

you have cut me to the bone;

you have stabbed me in the back;

you have endangered my children;

you have stolen from me;

you have threatened to kill me and it seems every time we talk you spew out nothing but lies.

I failed you. As the person who brought you into this world, it was my convoluted job to make you appropriate for society.

If you had been an only child, would it have been different? If you had been an only child, would I have given you more leeway so I did not sacrifice your siblings humiliation, safety and discontent?

We moved for you. It was the area, the neighborhood, the school, the doctors. I did everything and gave all in hope that the problem wasn’t really you.

Doctors, therapists, counselors, hospitals; things a mother should never have to say about her child, I said.

In the end, I failed you.

For many years, I was a mighty warrior set out to ensure your health and happiness, but you broke my spirit and I gave up. I want so badly to let you in, but the price is so high and I am emotionally bankrupt.

You deserved a stronger mother, one who could stay in the fight, one who could be more understanding, one who could battle for more than 19 years. I am so sorry you ended up with me, who tried to make you fit in a cookie-cutter mold. I still have no clue what kind of mom could have helped you.

It wasn’t me.

I battled uphill to mend my broken life while trying to protect yours. The spiraling, all-consuming, soul-sucking, constantly being kicked and punched, that was all beyond me.

I’m sorry I am so broken and weak that I can’t afford to be hurt again. Everyone in your world has disconnected over the years in the simple and often subconscious act of self-preservation. But in everyone’s life, there should be at least one constant, one person you know will always be there. You don’t even have that.

I hurt you.

I insulted you.

I embarrassed you.

I punished you.

I hospitalized you.

I let you down.

I lied to you.

I threatened you.

I had you arrested.

I closed my door to you.

I laughed at you.

I walked away….

I didn’t ever deserve you, and you certainly didn’t deserve me.

Lost In The Life I Chose

by | Jun 16, 2015 | Depression, Guilt, Happiness, Help With Relationships, Marriage and Partnership, Marriage Problems, Pregnancy, Romantic Relationships | 6 comments

I have a good life.

I have a Bachelor’s Degree in elementary education and a good, stable job. I have amazing friends and family and a husband who loves me. I know all of this. Most days I am incredibly thankful for all of it. Most days. But then, the doubts start creeping in…

Am I where I wanted to be at this point in my life? No.

I was supposed to be happily married with a home and children of my own to raise. Isn’t that what the fairy tales promise?

Instead, I got married young to a man who has this incredible potential but refuses to get off his butt and do something with it. He’s had five jobs in four years, all of them at call centers. Each time he promises it will be better, but 4-6 months in he gets stressed out and apathetic and I’m back to pinching pennies to get by.

And kids? Pffft. Right. Even if, by some miracle, I was able to get pregnant, how am I supposed to raise a child when I married one? I know that I shouldn’t expect him to change who he is to meet my expectations as he is still the same person I married.

But I’m not.

And that, I guess, is the root of the problem. I am not the same person I was two years ago, much less the six we’ve been married or the nine that we’ve been together. But, even as I type this, I feel that I am being disloyal to him somehow. He loves me. He has never abused me, physically or otherwise. I feel guilty and well, to be perfectly honest, I feel like an ungrateful bitch.

I’ve never been on my own. Never had my own space. I’ve always had to answer to or been responsible for someone else. The funny thing is, I chose this. I chose to marry the man who I knew was irresponsible. But, faced with the option of marrying or being alone, I chose marriage.

I settled, I see that now, but not in the way you may be thinking. I don’t mean, “Oh my GAWD what was I THINKING?!?!? I’m so much better than him!” What I mean is, I settled into the idea of being married because I was terrified I would never find anyone else. I was never the pretty, popular girl, with her choice of dates. I was was the overweight, mousy, wallflower trying to blend into the background.

So, when someone actually did pay attention to me, I tended to latch on for dear life.

I settled, and now…now, I don’t know. I used the Almighty Google to try and find someone who knows where I am coming from, but in every post I found there was a paragraph about how the poster had found someone better than his/her significant other. That’s not the case with me. The choice isn’t between my marriage and someone new.

Ultimately, the choice is between my marriage and myself.

I don’t even know if any of this is making sense, or if I sound like a blathering idiot…

There Is Nowhere To Go

by | Jun 9, 2015 | Dermatillomania, Loneliness, Self-Esteem, Teen Depression, Teen Self Injury | 0 comments

I am under 15, and I live with dermatillomania.

Because of my problem, I have trouble with self image and sometimes get very depressed. My parents don’t know. The Band has suggested that I confide in a friend who will help me. I have no such friend.

One of my friends is a science geek. I feel like a dork so I will never tell her.

My other friend is too girly. She doesn’t take anything seriously. Sometimes she asks about my scars, but I am too ashamed of them, so I say it is nothing. She forgets and continues to talk about herself. I don’t even want to be friends with her. I don’t want to tell her.

There is nowhere to go, no one to confide in. None of the school counselors would ever understand. I am alone. I feel so bad.

I purposely try to hurt my self so I can pick at the scabs later. A small 1 centimeter scratch turned into a half inch gouge just from continued picking and scratching. How do I dig myself out of this 1,000,000,000 foot hole without killing my self?

A Letter To My Eighth Grade Self

by | Jun 5, 2015 | Fear, Love, Romantic Relationships, Self-Esteem | 0 comments

Hello Beautiful,

I know you don’t see yourself as beautiful right now, but you are. One day, you will recognize it and will find your own strength and power in believing that about yourself.

But that’s not what I want to tell you right now.

I know you have your dreams resting on the blond with the dazzling smile. That’s a dead-end dream. One day, he’s going to be in his 40’s, still hanging out with his college frat buddies, getting drunk and playing stupid games. He’s going to move away soon. Let him go. He’s nothing to your future.

But you know the sort of awkwardly cute guy who entertains you in science class when the teacher has his back turned? He’s falling for you. Hard. It will take a few years, but he’ll be head over heels for you when you’re 16.

He’s going to get contacts. Without the glasses in the way, you will forever fall in love with his gorgeous brown eyes, even if it takes you almost a decade to fall in love with the rest of him.

He’s going to stick by you, and protect you, and support you forever, even after you break his heart in high school.

Here’s the thing I want you to remember:

Never

Let

Him

Go.

Ever.

Even when other relationships try to tear you apart, never let him out of your heart. One day, you will wake up to find that you love him more than you ever thought you could love someone. You will see that he is your perfect match in every way. You are so very alike in ways that you never would have guessed, and you will compliment each other in the ways you differ.

He needs you, very much. You have gifts you can use to greatly bless his life. And you need him, desparately. He will heal wounds inside of you and love you like no other. He will cherish you and appreciate you, and you will wonder why you didn’t see it all along.

One day, you will see all the times you both just barely missed the chance to be together. But have no fear. One day it will happen. You will finally have your opportunity to make magic together. It will take a long time, but it will happen. And once he is really yours, you will finally understand what it was you were always looking for.

Chin up, dear, good things are coming.

 

All my love,

The older, wiser You

Age

by | Apr 23, 2015 | Coping With Divorce, Divorce, Loss, Major Depressive Disorder | 0 comments

Just a few thoughts on age. I still get together with my friends, some of whom I knew in high school. We’re all thirtysomething (yeah like that TV show when I was a kid), but I could almost swear, at the core, we’re all still those kids. Surely, life experience causes us to collect memories, which good or bad, filter the way we interact with the world. And certainly, we all bear the marks of physical aging, whether it be gray hair, losing hair, wrinkles, or yes, even dental work. But still, these sparks we carry remain the same. Even the same as when we were little children. Way deep down for some, to be sure.

I feel like an old man when I look at my thirteen, eleven, and eight year old children. Wow! Were any of us really that energetic and bendy? It’s when I watch them play and run that I really feel what the years of labor have done to my back and knees. They fall down and bounce back up, just as if they had springy legs of some kind. They laugh the whole time, slipping and sliding in the dirt, grass or snow. Most of us would be in traction from an afternoon of tossing ourselves on the ground, victims of a horrible zombie attack.

Age is a funny thing. I used to think that my problems with self-esteem and depression would somehow evaporate with age alone. But, like physical injuries, psychological ones leave their scars. Scars that sometimes become quite raw from the newer and different events of adulthood. I remember thinking about those scars when my wife left me. I was more hurt than you could imagine. She was sick and tired of me and my depression. I’d withdrawn from nearly everyone in my life, unhealthily leaning on my woman as my only friend. It was a burden to her, I know. I still harbor some resentment from her leaving me. In some ways, that is rooted in the thought that I was left on a sickbed. But, damnit, I wouldn’t open up to anyone in those days. The things that bothered me didn’t fall away as I aged. Indeed, they seemed to have grown in strength from the darkness that I kept them in. As I have really thought about the whole thing, I realize that my many secret pains and worries destroyed my attitude and therefore my marriage. My ex knew that I struggled with depression and low self esteem. But my stubborn refusal to let my demons out into the light just made those things worse. In the end, thought, the pain really caused me to begin the healing of wounds that I’ve carried nearly my whole life.

One thing that I can say about aging is that to me, truly becoming old means letting the shit the world dishes out smother your spark. I am pagan and I think that the best way to honor the gods and our ancestors is to be grateful for the chance to live, to be hopeful about the future, no matter how dark the past and to count the many blessings we no doubt have accumulated over our lives.

I think that there are times of life that prompt very real and intense introspection in humankind. Times of loss are a perfect example. Over a long enough timeline, we all lose at least one thing that is very dear to us. At such a time, it’s easy to become stuck in a ‘woe-is-me’ attitude. Flipping that over, we see that such a time is great for taking stock of what we still have: not money or status, but the truly unique gifts within – music, art, compassion, humor, kindness. All of these and more are gifts that each of us have in some measure. Pain is often a very instructive teacher.

What I hoped time would heal was only first poulticed when I lost the woman I loved. Surely it was a painfully hard knock, and there have been many dark days, but I think that the pain off loss has facilitated my healing where age and time could not.