On a cloudy day

As I struggled to open my eyes, I could hear the furnace running. I slowly pulled the covers up to my neck, being careful not to move any part of my body too fast. The movement of my hand lit up the time on my Fitbit, which told me it was 4:30 AM. Again. Why God, again? This was three mornings in a row that the pain of a migraine has awakened me at 4:30.

And so, the routine begins. I got myself out of bed and took some meds. Then, I went to the freezer to get the ice pack. The ice pack. I think I've come to rely on the ice pack more than I do the meds sometimes. It's one of those flexible ice packs filled with clay beads that you can wrap around your neck. I double it up and put it behind my head, in the crook of my neck, so the cold hits the base of my skull. If the ice can work its magic and start to reduce the swelling in the veins back there, I can usually relieve the pain in my head. And if I'm on ice long enough, it just numbs it, and that alone is relief.

People are used to me talking about my migraines as casual conversation. That's all my doing. I've endured them for so long that they are a part of my everyday life - and these days I mean that literally. For the last year or two, all of my preventative treatments that used to work, have stopped working, and I'm left with treating the migraines on an acute basis. Even now, as I sit here, my first thought is - how do I do this? How do I put my pain in term others understand?

My goal today was to peel back a layer - expose part of me that no one ever gets to see, no one ever gets to hear... except Jesus. In the most unprotected manner, this feels just like telling the people you love that you were raped and abused. That you've been living a lie. And now, fear and faith have convinced you to ask for help, because you're not sure how much more you can endure - physically or mentally.

This past year has been difficult, physically and emotionally difficult. And unless you've ever experienced a migraine, I really cannot describe the pain accurately. There are several different kinds of migraines. I have chronic migraines with aura, intractable, with status migrainosus. That's a fancy way of saying I fit into a category that effects less than 1 percent of people with migraines. In layman's terms, it means they last for 72 hours or longer, are often resistant to typical migraine medications, and have symptoms that are especially debilitating.

Migraines are not just a headache. We are finally starting to understand that it’s a disabling neurological disease. One that, like many, is very difficult to diagnose properly and just as difficult to treat properly because each case may have different symptoms and need to be treated in a unique way. The problem with that is, while doctors struggle to catch up to modern science, many of us struggle to function on a day-to-day basis.

What many bystanders don't understand is the "migraine world" we live in when we're NOT consumed with head pain. That 72 hours may only hold 8-12 hours of head pain, maybe less. For myself, if I'm lucky, I will get a few hours of warning during the day. My vision will be skewed, my neck will hurt, sometimes I have a sweet-tooth. On those days I can take a smaller dose of medicine and catch it before it's a full-blown "headache" - I might not even have any head pain. But more often than not, I am awakened in the night with my head throbbing, knowing it's too late for a small dose, and mentally preparing for what the next 48 hours hold.

I rarely get to go back to sleep, even though the meds usually clear the head pain, so my day starts at 4:30 AM. I have taught myself how to "function" during the day so that I can continue to work. I couldn't stay in bed with little ones to take care of and I couldn't tell my employers day after day that I was staying home for a "headache." And as the years went on, I taught myself how to smile and go on. But functioning means checking and double checking - sometimes triple checking - everything I do, because my brain is in a fog. Second guessing everything I do, because I don't trust my memory or my abilities anymore. Struggling to focus on the computer, when my vision is blurry and my eyes hurt.

But I feel it getting harder and harder to "function" on the day-to-day basis. I rarely get a full day of reprieve before the next 72-hour wave hits. All the head pain, lack of sleep, and the constant flow of medication have affected my memory and cognitive functions. There are long periods of time when my brain physically hurts, not necessarily a headache, just aches. And I get random shooting pains in my head. I'm mentally and physically exhausted.

And just when I think I can't take anymore...

He meets me where I am. God is so good! I was in the middle of a meltdown. A "God, I can't do this anymore, why haven't I ever shared with anyone, why did I keep this such a secret" moment, when that still small voice somehow made its way through the chaos and to my heart. It was like sunshine breaking through the clouds.

I will not leave you nor forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.

But, God, I can't do it.

You're don't have to, let Me do it.

Psalm 55:22 ESV

Cast your burden on the Lord, and He will sustain you; He will never permit the righteous to be moved.