The post is in response to the Migraine & Headache Awareness Month Blog Challenge question from June 12, What situation in your migraine/headache disorders treatment has made you feel most like a guinea pig or lab rat?

When my migraine attacks were at their worst, Hart and I knew our relationship was suffering. We both wanted to improve our marriage, but I couldn’t work on it. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but that I simply could not. The very basics of keeping myself going took all my attention and energy. No matter how much I love my husband and wanted to nurture our relationship, I had to focus on myself.

At that time, Hart compared the role of migraine in our relationship to a difficult, demanding child. I think of it more as a controlling lover. We could have worked together on parenting a child, no matter how unruly the child or how much we disagreed. Though he could help with day-to-day life and getting me to appointments, migraine was still my “thing” and drove a wedge between us that I couldn’t see past. Migraine dictated what I did at every minute of every day. It was all that I thought about.

Solitary confinement and an affair with a controlling lover are the best ways I’ve come up with to illustrate the isolation of chronic migraine, but I know there have to be a million other ways to describe it. What’s your analogy?

Update: Just stumbled upon a post from 2007 where I asked about headache metaphors. Read the informative responses in the comments.

This post is in response to today’s Migraine & Headache Awareness Month blog challenge question, Have you found a way to work exercise or movement into your life with migraine/headache disorder? What is it?

She wrote:

“I am divorced. I have met a wonderful man whom I love. However, he has had a headache non stop for 25 years. He has maintained a successful career and still works but has debilitating headache periods. I only know he feels bad when he tells me. But I’m starting to realize he feels bad all the time. I don’t understand how he’s not crazy. In other words it does not impaire [sic] dating. He says he feels better when relaxed. Tense work makes headaches worse. He’s been to the best headache clinics. We’ve been dating 5 months and got serious about a month ago. But I stress enormously about whether I have just fallen in love with someone that is disabled or will be. He’s just ideal for me except for the headache. I cannot imagine stopping dating when we are having such a good time. But I feel like I am taking on a disability that could leave me in a bad marriage and I want a good marriage.”

My immediate thought is that part of what she loves about this man is probably a direct result of who he has become because of his headache disorder. After all, we’re known for being brave and tenacious. Maybe his his chronic headache is as much an asset as a liability.

Just because one person has a physical disability doesn’t mean a marriage will be bad. It is undeniably something to deal with, but every person and every relationship has difficulties. It is fortunate that this one is known ahead of time.

This man appears to function quite well with his headaches and there’s no indication his condition is worsening. There’s also no guarantee they won’t worsen, nor is there a guarantee that the woman asking for advice won’t be diagnosed with a debilitating disease or disabled in a car accident.

Life is uncertain and you can only know so many variables going into a major decision. You can decide what you want out of a relationship and weigh all the factors you know and still be surprised, pleasantly or otherwise.

I write all this knowing that I was married before my migraine attacks became severely debilitating. It has caused an enormous strain on my relationship. My husband and I love each other very much and are committed to being together, but there’s no denying I’m not the energetic woman he married, nor am I the equal partner we both expected. Still, he tells me that he’d rather be with me sick than not be with me at all.

That may be the real question this advice seeker should ask herself: Would she rather be with this man even though he is sick than not with him at all?

Readers, you have loads of experience with this issue. What’s your advice?

The migraine community is deeply shaken by this young woman’s suicide. Those who knew her are crushed by the loss of a vibrant, warm-hearted, loving person who was only 22. And I believe that those who didn’t are haunted by the niggling thought, “It could have been me.” Even the chronic migraineurs who haven’t seriously considered suicide know the feeling of not wanting to live like this anymore. It is not that we want to die, but that the daily struggle of chronic migraine feels like it is too much to bear and the light at the end of the tunnel often seems nonexistent.

What causes some people to hang on and others to choose suicide is a mystery to me. I have been desperately searching for a way to help suicidal migraineurs. Perhaps the best I can offer is a variation on something Hart told me the last time I was suicidal: Life with chronic migraine is extraordinarily difficult, but that doesn’t mean it is worthless. That and a success story, as I found my first helpful preventive (after more than three dozen unsuccessful meds) two weeks after Hart reminded my of my life’s worth.

When I shared the news of this young woman’s death on my private Facebook page, a non-migraineur friend said that anyone who dies from suicide because of an illness should be considered as having died from that illness. I’d never thought of it that way before, but I absolutely agree. Migraine is not thought of as a life-threatening illness. This young woman’s suicide is a tragic reminder that it can be.

If you are considering suicide, please, please contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255).

Though I didn’t know her well, this young woman’s death has hit me hard. I am sad for her family and friends, and my heart breaks to know how many other chronic migraineurs have felt similarly desperate.

I think of all the people whose episodic migraine attacks have slowly morphed into chronic migraine. So many of us try countless treatments before finding any relief. Our migraines worsen year after year while we try medications with sometimes unbearable side effects. When you’re mired in that much pain, both physical and emotional, you cannot conceive of a life without migraines that continue to escalate in frequency, severity, and duration, destroying what little quality of life you have left. (I know, I have been there.)

Combine having to face each day when your life is in ruins because of migraine with a society that does not understand how ravaging migraine can be. Migraineurs are regularly told that “it’s all in your head” or “it’s only a headache.” We are called weak or fakers. People tell us all we have to do is think positively and our migraine attacks will go away. There is so little sympathy or empathy for those struggling with migraine.

June is Migraine and Headache Awareness Month. I’ve been caught up in my own life and haven’t been on top of spreading facts or writing blog posts. This young woman’s tragic death has reminded me just how vital it is that we raise awareness about this devastating illness.

Too many people suffer horribly from migraine. Too few people know the tremendous damage it can cause. How many more bright, shining stars must the world lose before people begin to understand the cost of chronic migraine?

The second annual Migraine & Headache Awareness Month Blog Challenge is underway with 30 days of movie-inspired prompts. Write for your existing blog or start a new one just for the month. If you don’t have a blog, you can respond to the prompts and post your insights on social media or write in a journal to share with those close to you. Even if you don’t show your writing to anyone else, writing down your thoughts about migraine or headache will raise your own awareness about its impact on your life. If you don’t start with yourself and your own beliefs, how can you influence anyone else?

Check the Fighting Headache Disorders blog daily for links to tons of blog posts. And be sure to read what the patient advocates at Migraine.com have to say in response to prompts (I’ll be writing four of them). Find bloggers’ favorite posts from the challenge in this month’s Headache Disorders & Migraine Blog Carnival.

Not a writer? You can participate in a Twitter challenge or daily photo challenge. Use social media to share facts about migraine and headache disorders (already compiled!) or post photos that document your life with migraine or headache. Be sure to tag your posts with one of the following hashtags so others can find what you share: #MHAM, #MHAM13, #MHAMBC (blog challenge), #MHAMTC (Twitter challenge), #MHAMPC (photo challenge)

Not a writer or social media user? Print out these migraine and headache disorder facts to hang in your office, community bulletin boards, or neighborhood telephone poles.

Phew, that’s a lot! I’m so appreciative of all these opportunities and can’t wait to see all the contributions.

Even if you don’t participate in any of these organized activities, I urge you to do at least one thing this month to increase someone else’s understanding of migraine or headache disorders. Maybe that’s describing to a non-migraineur how crippling a migraine attack is or telling someone who thinks migraine is “just a headache” about the numerous and varied symptoms a migraine can include. Perhaps you let someone who has mild, episodic migraine attacks that are treated with OTC meds know that may people get no relief from drugs, OTC or prescription, and others are disabled by daily migraine attacks.

Or you could do something even more difficult for most migraineurs — don’t diminish how severe your attacks are or pretend you feel better than you do. Oftentimes we choose to put on the masks that hide the severity of migraine. That may get us through our day-to-day tasks, but it also prevents others from having any real grasp on what life with migraine is truly like.

Think about how few doctors understand migraine today and how much is still unknown about how migraine works in the brain and body. Now consider how paltry the knowledge was 25 years ago, when my “headaches” became chronic. Without one-sided pain or a visual aura, a pediatrician or internist would not consider migraine as the culprit.

There was no way to verify or quantify my ailments when I complained of symptoms like nausea (but rarely vomiting), ear pain (but rarely any sign of infection), and dizziness. Add to these factors that the symptoms typically came on without warning and also lifted suddenly, often leaving me feeling perfectly fine on weekends. If I didn’t know what I now know about migraine, I, too, would probably think a child was making up her illness.

Remember that 95% of the world’s population has a headache at some point. For most of these people, a headache is mild and easily remedied with an OTC painkiller or a little time. Headaches are dismissed as no big deal because they are not a big deal for the vast majority of people.

I no longer refer to the pain I feel with a migraine as a headache, but as head pain. This is a new realization, one I didn’t have even eight years ago when I named this blog. For a kid, pain that occurs in the head is thought of as a headache. I had no words to explain or even a way to conceptualize what was happening in the physical area of my head as something other than a headache.

Furthermore, society dismisses the significance of illness altogether. Cancer and other life-threatening illness are treated with reverence and fear, but their true impact is also minimized. People who push themselves beyond their physical limits and refuse to acknowledge the possibility of death are praised for their bravery. Acknowledging how physically devastating treatment can be, that the odds of survival are low, or fear of death is considered “negative thinking,” which is taken as a sign the person isn’t trying hard enough.

An illness that has no visible signs (to the untrained eye), no diagnostic tests to prove its presence, is not immediately life-threatening, and has “headache” as its primary feature has little hope for being taken seriously. Never mind that the World Health Organization determined that during a severe migraine attack, someone is as disabled as a quadriplegic and that chronic migraine is responsible for more years lost to disability than every other neurological illness combined*. These and other facts and statistics are painfully slow in spreading to the public’s consciousness. As much as my advocate’s heart doesn’t want to believe this, an illness with as much baggage as migraine may never be recognized as the life-changing, debilitating scourge it can be.

I wrote Migraine Beliefs because I know I’m not alone in internalizing these cultural messages. The harsh, harrowing truths I acknowledge are the reality of living with a poorly understood and highly stigmatized illness. I can only play a small role in raising society’s consciousness about migraine, but sharing my truth helps connect all migraineurs. If my words can reduce even one person’s emotional pain, loneliness, and self-blame, I have succeed.

*My headache specialist just shared this fact with me. The WHO report with that information does not appear to be online yet, so I can’t link to the source.

If I tried harder, I wouldn’t have migraine.

It is my fault that I have migraine.

I’m only sick for sympathy or attention.

If I were a stronger or somehow better person, I wouldn’t have migraine.

I have chronic migraine because I don’t want to work (and I have specific migraine attacks because I don’t want to clean the house/go out to dinner with that person/see that movie).

I am not as sick as I act like I am.

I am lazy.

I am weak.

I am a failure.

These are the migraine-related beliefs I uncovered in therapy yesterday. Talk about a landmine. Knowing I’ve been carrying around these harmful falsehoods most of my life makes me incredibly sad.

I am sad that I learned as a child — from adults who couldn’t see my illness and so didn’t believe I was sick, from kids who called me a faker, from a family who thought pushing through illness would always overcome it, from everyone who told me “headaches” were trivial — to ignore my body, to not trust myself and how I felt. I learned that illness is wrong and shameful and that by “giving in” to illness — or even admitting how sick I feel — means I am a failure.

I am sad that I have carried these notions so long. That even after eight years of writing about migraine and being called a migraine advocate, I still hold on to them. That I absolutely know these beliefs are untrue and yet I am still invested in them.

I am sad that I am not only sick with a physical illness, but with shame and self-hatred about that illness.

I am sad for all the migraineurs who hold tight to similar beliefs about themselves. And for the friends and families of migraineurs who believe such things about their loved ones.

I am sad to live in a society that sees any admission of difficulty as weakness. That treats illness as personal (or even moral) failure. That blames the patient for not improving.

I am sad for the little girl who internalized all these messages and for the adult woman who is still haunted by them.

The last couple weeks have been filled with emotional Whac-a-Mole. An emotion pops up, but as soon as I notice it, it ducks underground again. They disappear so quickly that there’s no chance for me to knowingly knock an emotion out. When I described this to my therapist, she said to think of it as a subconscious protection mechanism (though she didn’t use those particular words). To keep myself from being overwhelmed by emotion, especially when a migraine attack commands my attention, I unwittingly developed a strategy to protect myself.

By far, anxiety has been the most prominent emotion I’ve had since starting therapy. It was free floating until my last session. Since then, “What is happening to my skin? Where is that protection when I need it?,” which are lyrics from another Talking Heads song, have been running through my mind. They so perfectly articulate my fear that returning to the world of emotional experience will mean peeling off my skin, exposing every nerve ending to the sadness of the world.

Thus far in my adult life, I’ve either been emotionally flayed open or closed off. I didn’t know it was possible to experience an emotion without being carried away by it, nor did I know I could choose to feel an emotion or distract myself from it. While I now know this is possible, I don’t yet have the skills necessary to manage my emotions. I first have to learn how to feel and sit with them. It is slow going, for sure, but I no longer feel as if I have to climb Mt. Everest yet again. I am seeing it more as a process, removing layer after layer to get to the heart of the matter.

I drafted this post last Thursday, the day after my last therapy session. I’m pleased to say that this week has been much less anxiety-ridden. I now trust that I can be open to emotions without being flayed open. Interestingly, I’ve also begun thinking of the work I’m doing in therapy not as monumental effort or even removing layers, but as the normal work of life. It has already become easier to notice and experience my emotions. They still hide quite a bit, but I’m definitely seeing progress from week to week. This afternoon is another therapy session… wonder what I’ll find today.

I’ve entered the land of magical thinking, somehow convincing myself that I will be able to savor all the pleasures of the Pacific Northwest as if I were in perfect health. Reality check: I may be able to cook for my friend, but I can’t eat anything I plan to make. Alcohol is out of the question. If the weather is unexpectedly rainy, being laid up with migraines is practically guaranteed.

I was in a good migraine spell when I made the plans to go. Everything seemed possible. Now I’m not even sure how I’m going to get there. I’ll need a car and money is tight, so I planned to drive and crash on friends’ couches along the way. Really? I’ve managed a seven-hour road trip by myself with chronic migraine, but it is 24 hours of driving time between Phoenix and Seattle. I can’t handle that by myself, especially if I’m not guaranteed a long, restful sleep each night. I can’t eat road food. Even if I recruit another driver, I’m not sure I can handle that much time on the road.

Every single day I am faced with the fact that I am not healthy and robust. How could I take mental leave of this reality when making summer plans?

I want out of chronic migraine.

Emotions & Physiology
Emotions cause physiological changes in the body, from changing the heart rate to releasing chemicals. Maybe these changes are migraine triggers. Not enough is known about migraine to know whether this is the case.

Furthermore, studies have indicated that people who were abused as children are more likely to have chronic migraine than those who were not. Childhood abuse can literally change the way our brains work. Don’t believe me? Read about the neurobiology of childhood abuse in this fascinating, though technical, Medscape article Childhood Abuse and Migraine (you can get a password at BugMeNot). (I’m not saying I was abused as a child, just that traumatic emotional events can change our physiological responses.)

No Miracle Cure
I run from anyone who claims to have The Answer to migraine or says they will cure me. Anyone who makes these claims is arrogant and lacks knowledge about the complexity of migraine in general and ignores the reality of my 25 years of chronic migraine. The human body is not that simple and too much is unknown about chronic migraine for that to be the case. My therapist/naturopath has made no such claims, instead acknowledging that there are many factors contributing to my migraine attacks and that emotions may be one component.

Healthy Skepticism
Being open to an idea is entirely different than believing it is true. I need to gather more evidence before making a determination. As such, I’m approaching this hypothesis with the same skepticism I do any treatment, whether it is Lyrica, acupuncture, or homeopathy. In fact, I’m even more skeptical that opening myself up to feeling emotions will affect my migraine frequency or severity. I’m in therapy for my psychological well-being, not my physical health. If the work reduces my migraine attacks, that’s a bonus.

No Blame
I do not blame myself for causing my migraines by repressing emotions. Again, it is not that simple. If there’s a connection between the migraine attacks and emotions, whatever is happening is outside my consciousness. My body, brain, and/or “heart center” have figured out how to cope with being a highly sensitive person in this world and having chronic migraine to boot. This emotional self-preservation served me well enough, but now I’m ready to shed some armor.

Please believe that while my mind is open, my brain is not in danger of falling out, as the saying goes. I still evaluate ideas and treatments critically and support the scientific method. Writing about unconventional topics — like emotions and migraine, salicylate sensitivity, or histamine intolerance — is not the same as endorsing them.

I admit I’m open to more “out there” ideas than I have been in the past. However, I’m not advocating tossing out reason, nor have I done so myself. I am willing to consider the possible validity of ideas outside the scientific realm because so little inside of it has been of any use in treating my migraines. But I take them all with a giant dose of salt and proceed with extreme caution.

I remember feeling defeated when I read that article a year or two ago. My goals were sitting on a shelf, put aside when getting out of bed and feeding myself were all I could manage in a day. They did not inspire me, but filled me with despair over all I had already failed to accomplish and everything it seemed I would never be able to do. Even though I felt better than I had in at least five years, I was still so sick. Goals did not feel like inspiration, but a reminder of defeat. What was the point in having goals, I wondered, when migraine demanded all my energy and attention?

That despair was temporary. Try as I might to pretend I had no dreams beyond finding an effective migraine treatment, my ambitions cannot be sublimated. As frustrating as it was to believe my dreams would never be fulfilled, it was even worse to imagine that my only role in the world was sitting on the couch in pain. The sentiment of that headache specialist whose name I cannot remember in the article whose location I cannot find were so true. Having goals keeps me believing that migraine will not forever dominate my life and that, even if I am, I will somehow contribute meaningfully to society. When my life feels unbearably small and worthless, these aspirations give me a reason to strive, even if getting out of bed will be my biggest accomplishment of a day (or week or month).

While the previous sentence would be a fine place to end this post, a reader asked me to share my goals with you. She said that reading about my aspirations inspires her to keep dreaming and believe in the possibility of fulfilling goals despite illness. Doing so has taken me months. Thinking privately about everything I hope to achieve in my life is hard enough with chronic migraine grinding me down. I have often felt like I would never even be able to begin pursuing my goals, much less achieve them. Declaring these dreams publicly feels like I’m committing myself to them, and that if I do not attain the goals I share, I will have failed. Because I know at least one person will benefit from my sharing, I will plunge in and trust that you will understand if I’m never well enough to follow through.

*Deep breath* OK, here goes.

Help people with the emotional turmoil of chronic migraine. In the last year, I’ve come to believe that my experience with and understanding of the emotions of chronic migraine is the most important knowledge I can share with other migraineurs. How I plan to do this, whether through writing, coaching, or even getting a counseling degree, depends on the day. Writing will likely prevail since it reaches the largest audience and I express ideas best in writing. I’m already doing this to some extent on The Daily Headache and Migraine.com, but I want to reach even more people.

Help non-migraineurs understand how serious and debilitating this condition can be. I’ve begun to see this as an extension of the previous goal. The facts about migraine are astonishing (my headache specialist shared some with me yesterday that literally made my jaw drop), but tugging at heartstrings is often more effective than facts. I want to write about migraine in a way that will touch those who believe migraine is just a headache and publish those articles in places that aren’t specifically focused on migraine (like Real Simple and O magazine for starters).

Write a book about couples’ communication and chronic illness. Since my background is in human communication (with a love of interpersonal communication), this screams “dissertation” to me. While the coursework for a PhD would be wonderful, the thought of negotiating university politics and slogging through comprehensive exams and writing with a committee makes me want to scream. Still, I’d learn so much from published research along the way and could gather excellent data for the book. I could massively edit the academic dissertation to make it palatable for the general public. Or I could skip the school stuff and do it myself. Compared to getting a PhD, writing a book looks easy.

Teach people how to bake. There are two “tracks” I’m thinking of: how to make typical boxed goods from scratch with little extra effort and how to make sublime cookies. The first is for folks who think baking is too hard. I’d teach the very basics of making cookies, cakes, and brownies, plus the tricks to make them turn out (like that over mixing after you add flour makes for tough cookies). Nothing overwhelming or complicated, just easy recipes and simple steps. Sublime is where the involved, time-consuming (though not necessarily complicated) recipes come in. These cookies are so good that even people who don’t like sweets are taken in by their delicious addictiveness (like my chocolate chip cookies).

Cook for people. “Love people, cook them tasty food” says the Penzey’s bumper sticker stuck to my recipe notebook. It is an eloquent summary of one of my life philosophies. I imagine it mostly as bartering, as I’m doing with a friend who is working part-time for TheraSpecs. She hates to cook and has a family to feed. I love to cook and want to do something when I have energy but am mentally foggy. I recently spent 28 hours over five days and made at least six weeks of dinners for her family. It was so much fun and I’m happy to know I’m nourishing the bellies and taste buds of people I love. Unfortunately, a week later I’m still paying for all that time on my feet and cheating on my diet as I tested recipes.

How heartening it is to see that I’m already making progress on some of these goals. Until writing them down just now, they all felt big and nebulous and way out of reach given my current health. Big goals are made up of tiny steps after all. I’ve been working toward my dreams without even realizing it. Migraine isn’t holding me back, just slowing me down.

The next, unrelated status update in my Facebook feed read, “Are you avoiding talking about race because it makes you uncomfortable or because you just don’t care?” “Huh,” I thought, “I don’t talk about race because I don’t have the mental or emotional energy to do so.” Because I don’t face racism on a day-to-day basis and instead spend my life trying to manage a debilitating chronic illness, the topic doesn’t come up for me much. On the rare occasion I’m having an intellectual debate, race may be mentioned, but it isn’t part of my daily life (nor are intellectual debates these days).

Answered in the frame of my friend’s binary question, I don’t talk about race because I just don’t care. That is so not true.

Everyone has a “cause” they want other people care about, whether it is race, homophobia, autism, or migraine. Yet, every “target” of a movement or campaign has a finite amount of energy and attention. We care most about what has the greatest impact on our own lives. This isn’t selfish or uncompassionate, but a matter of allotting our limited resources to cope with this incredibly difficult task called life.

I want nothing more than for people to understand how severe migraine can be and the emotional and physical toll it can take. I want this not only for patients and their loved ones, but for society as a whole. My friend probably has similarly ambitious desires related to race. Yet, instead of energizing me to action, her comment left me feeling guilty because my daily struggle keeps me from pursing other important problems.

We can’t guilt people into action, nor can we force other people to take up the fight for an issue that doesn’t impact their daily lives. How, then, do we get non-migraineurs to care? This is an issue I discussed many times at the American Headache Society symposium in November and every conversation raised more questions than solutions. I’m working on a list of ideas, which I will share soon.

In the meantime, I want to hear from you: What do you do to help non-migrainuers understand the potential severity and debility of this illness? What other things could be done, whether by you, patients and their families, advocates, or headache specialists? How do we make people care about migraine?

I’m tempted to say I don’t have it in me to do more, but that’s not true. After surviving years of horrendous migraine attacks and depression, I believe I can make it through anything. Compared to those years, what the therapist is asking of me is craft time at day camp. But I didn’t know how hard those years would be until I was in them. This time I can see how hard I’m going to have to work and how emotionally and, possibly physically, painful it will be. I don’t wanna do it. Can’t I get credit for all I’ve already done? Maybe test out of some of the requirements?

Also, I have to admit to bring a little surprised that there’s more to be done after I’ve already come so far. In the words of the brilliant David Byrne, “I’m tired of traveling, I want to be somewhere.” I know life’s a journey, not a destination, but I thought I could hang out on the beach for a little while. Instead, I’ve discovered I’m not only at the wrong airport, I’m on the wrong continent.

I’m tired and sick and tired of being sick. I’ve done the impossible to get where I am right now, both physically and emotionally. And still it isn’t enough. How many more mountains do I have to move? And are any of the resulting avalanches going to bury me alive?

(And have I won a record for the number of metaphors crammed into one post?)

Some important points I must address before continuing.

1. Migraine is a neurological condition that is not caused by emotions, repressed or otherwise. If emotions play a role in my migraine attacks, they are a trigger, not a cause.
2. An emotional component is unlikely to explain the frequency and severity of my migraine attacks, however it could explain one part of my migraine puzzle.
3. If this hypothesis is true, it does not mean that everyone (or, in fact, ANYone) else has an emotional trigger for migraine.

OK, back to the story.

Two weeks ago my therapist noticed that I expressed no emotion when telling sad stories and said she thought I was shut down emotionally. I balked. I cry at everything, how could I be disconnected? A couple days later, I realized she was right. Somewhere in the last year or two, I stopped being devastated by world events. I thought I’d found a healthy way to cope. Coping? Yes. Healthy? Nope.

I’ve listened to enough Tara Brach and Pema Chödrön to know that the only way to deal with an emotion is to feel it. So, over the next few days, when I felt an emotion, I meditated. I didn’t think about the emotion (my usual strategy, in case you couldn’t tell from my writing), but just felt it. It was very scary, but did not devastate me.

When I saw my therapist last Thursday, she was so excited to see that I’d put the pieces together. I not only recognized I was shut down, but knew how to remedy the situation and had already begun doing what needed to be done. I left thinking that the wide world of emotions was right there, just waiting for me to feel. Talk about scary. Less than two hours after the appointment ended, the longest and most painful migraine I’ve had in months came on.

Yesterday I dragged myself to see the therapist despite the migraine that hadn’t abated since it hit on Thursday. As I sat in the waiting room, I marveled at how the pain was “only” a level 6 and yet I felt like I was going to die.

The therapist (remember, she’s also a naturopath) asked me about when the migraine attack started and if I’d encountered any potential triggers. Then she asked me to describe how I felt at that moment. Among other descriptors, I said it felt like there was a veil between me and the world, that I felt disconnected, physically numb.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

She laid it out for me: I’m a highly sensitive person in a culture (and family) that advocates pretending like difficult emotions don’t exist. I don’t have a toolkit for dealing with these emotions that (used to) overwhelm me. Some people numb their emotions with alcohol, food, or other addictions. Instead of making a conscious decision to disconnect, maybe my body forces numbness by triggering a migraine. The migraine that hit last week may have been my body saying, “Whoa! Slow down!” when my intellectual instinct was to dive into feeling emotions I’ve apparently been suppressing for a while.

When the therapist asked what I thought of all this, I said something along the lines of “Screw that bullshit.” But I was willing to keep an open mind and work with the idea.

The migraine lifted within two hours of the appointment’s end. No hangover or anything, just poof! migraine’s gone. (Though another came on a few hours later.)

I want to believe the magical disappearance of the migraine is a coincidence; yet I also want to believe there’s a connection. That maybe there is an emotional component to my chronic migraines I’ve never considered before. That by learning to feel emotions in a healthy way, maybe I can improve both my psychological and physical well-being.

I’m scared and excited and want to get going. The therapist sees the last migraine attack as a warning to go slowly. I’m not sure I agree, but having a raging migraine won’t help me move forward. The plan is to focus on one emotion at a time (this week’s is frustration) and, when it comes up, sit with it for only three minutes at a time before consciously distracting myself with something else. Looks like I’m also working on that elusive skill of patience.

What do you think? Does this sound like hogwash or a possibility? Have you found an emotional trigger for your migraine attacks?

As I understand the science, triptans do, in fact, abort migraine attacks and each subsequent attack is a separate entity. But as a chronic migraineur, it doesn’t seem like that’s happening. Instead, I wonder if I would have gotten this migraine attack out of the way if I’d not taken the naratriptan Tuesday (and Wednesday and Thursday). Forget the fact that the weather is changing today and that I haven’t slept well all week. And that The Doctors’ description of TheraSpecs was spot on and the TheraSpecs site had great traffic yesterday, thus relieving my anxiety and potentially triggering a “letdown migraine.” These don’t factor into my superstitions.

As I think myself in circles, I wonder how many headache specialists grasp the magnitude of the mental and emotional aspects of migraine. Even though they aren’t trained to help us deal with these components, they should be aware of how deeply migraine affects not only our physical state, but our mental and emotional well-being as well. If I ruled the world, every headache clinic would employ therapists who understand migraine’s reach and can equip migraineurs with a toolbox to manage the non-physical parts of migraine.

I write this from a mental fog, so please excuse me if this meandering post makes no sense. I think it contains at least one important nugget of information, but I won’t know for sure until I re-read it after this migraine passes.

I’m also glad that the entire segment on migraine has pretty good information. My main quibble is with the statement, “There are always certain foods for some people that will bring on migraines.” Not everyone has food triggers and those who do don’t always get a migraine attack after eating their trigger foods. Also, I believe the audience member’s question is why preventives that once worked stop working, but the response addresses overuse of painkillers and abortives. These issues seem more like unclear communication than inaccurate information. Not bad for covering a huge topic in only three-minutes.

Here’s an overview from AHMA (I’ve done a little rearranging and highlighting):

Our goal in establishing AHMA is to: EASE the burden of migraine and other headache disorders, such as cluster and tension type headache and trigeminal and occipital neuralgia, through Education, Awareness, Support and Engagement.

PROGRAMMING

It’s important to everyone involved in AHMA leadership for our members to help direct the course of AHMA programming. By joining AHMA this early, you can have a strong influence on the direction of our efforts and ensure they help meet your needs and desires and those of the other members.

Right now the most significant programs/events we have in place are:

• A members-only support and information forum. It can only be accessed by joining AHMA. New members are sent the link and the password to access it upon joining.
• A free, members-only patient conference, which will be held on Sunday, November 24, 2013, in Scottsdale, Arizona (a suburb of Phoenix). We’re still hard at work planning the conference and finalizing details, but some of the most brilliant physician experts in the AHS  have already volunteered to present on topics of special importance to Headache Disorders patients and their loved ones. We’re working hard to make the event as affordable as possible.
• AHMA has already started engaging in social media, so please like and follow us if you haven’t already:
  • Twitter: Twitter.com/AHMAOrg
  • Facebook: Facebook.com/AHMAorg
  • AHMA Blog: AHMABlog.com

MEMBERSHIP/DUES
Membership dues are reasonable. The membership types and respective dues are as follows. (Note: An effort to establish and set dues for a Lifetime Family Membership category is currently in the works.):

• $15 per year: Standard Membership
• $250: Lifetime Membership
• $0: Active Duty Military and Immediate Family; Disabled Veterans and Immediate Family
• $25: Family Membership for two or more members in the same family at the same address

Please visit EaseHeadacheMigraine.com to join AHMA.

BOARD OF DIRECTORS

• Chair: Teri Robert; Co-Chair: Dr. Paul Winner
• Chair Elect: Ellen Schnakenberg; Co-Chair Elect: Dr. Bert Vargas
• Vice Chair: Bob Wold; Co-Vice Chair: Dr. Rob Nicholson
• Treasurer: Julie Zellner McDonald; Co-Treasurer: Dr. Rebecca Wells
• Secretary: Diana Lee; Co-Secretary: Dr. Rob Cowan

For more information about AHMA and to join, please visit EaseHeadacheMigraine.com.

Preorgasmic and Orgasmic Headaches Are Not Migraine explains primary sexual headache (PSH), which are headaches that accompany sex but are not related to a headache disorder like migraine or cluster headaches, and describes treatment.

Sex as a “Cure” for Migraine or Cluster Headache? What’s the Deal? shares the statistics on sex decreasing or increasing migraine or cluster headache pain.

Only your doctor can determine whether your sex- or orgasm-related headaches are a primary disorder or part of another headache disorder. Whether you have experienced headaches in the past or not, it is important to see a doctor to get the correct diagnosis and treatment.

Learn more about the survey in this writeup by Dawn Marcus, MD, headache specialist and lead researcher for this study: Research Opportunity: What do others think about your migraine?

The survey’s open through the end of April (which is tomorrow!), so submit your response now.

TheraSpecs Stella‘s on-trend styling and dark tortoiseshell finish look great while providing maximum protection from light with TheraSpecs’ therapeutic tint. I’ve been wearing the prototype around for a couple months. Not only have I gotten tons of compliments on the prototype, my sensitive head loves how lightweight and flexible they are. Check out Stella Indoor, Stella Outdoor, or the discounted Stella Combo.

For people who wear prescription glasses and want maximum coverage at minimal cost, TheraSpecs Over-Rx frames are an excellent solution. We worked extra hard to find the perfect material so they’re comfortable and lightweight even when worn over glasses. I wear them daily whenever I’m wearing  glasses instead of contacts. Available in Over-Rx Indoor, Over-Rx Outdoor, and a discounted Over-Rx Combo.