Migraine

The unwanted visitor that haunts my brain

Kayla Douglas
Jun 13 · 2 min read

It’s knocking on the door
the space just behind my eyes
It applies a soft pressure
Warning me
It’s going to enter even when I scream
Go away!

The pressure is gentle,
Teasing
I think I can defeat it
Manage it naturally
This is not the mega-monster
That cozies up and settles in for three days
It shouldn’t require a prescription to abate
This is just a baby beast that needs some care and affection

So I meditate
I rest
Drink water for every cup of caffeine
I attempt
To go about my day as if I don’t have an unwanted visitor
Pressing gently inside my skull
I talk to the beast
What is your desire? Your purpose?
What are you trying to tell me?

His pounding answer reverberates but I don’t speak beast

I take magnesium, electrolytes, and breathe deeply
I’ll quiet him with self-care and —
BLAM!

My whole head explodes in one thunderclap
He jabs a sharp needle through my nasal cavity
and pierces the soft tissue of my brain
Popping my bubble of positivity that I work to maintain daily
One eye goes blurry and waters
My face feels foreign and fuzzy
I don’t remember what happens next

Minutes or hours wash over me in nauseating waves
I’m in the fetal position
Holding my head and crying
Watching my resolve that I can beat this
fade away in the shadows
Pixel by pixel turning black
Vision tunneling

And I feel desperate, terrified this is my entire future
My whole life experience shrinks in those hours of pain.
Everything positive can fit on the head of a pin
Days, weeks, months, years
of happiness reduced to a speck
And all of the pain surrounds me in tumultuous clouds
Blowing, pushing, and dragging me down into the depths.
A place I know well
My friends are there
Self-harm and suicide

Photo by Rene Asmussen from Pexels edited by author

They are always waiting for me underneath.
At first, they are soothing and kind
Suggesting softly
You know you want to feel better
But my resistance to them is strong
You need more than one of those pills
Take a few more, don’t stop now

And they get angrier and more insistent at my resistance.
I don’t know how much longer
I can hold them off…

inkMend

inkMend is a writer’s safe space on Medium to express experience with pain and write to heal from trauma. Inspired fiction, poetry, and non-fiction/memoir welcome.

Kayla Douglas

Written by

Life Coach, lifelong learner, travel enthusiast, living in Myanmar, raising awareness and understanding of narcolepsy www.kaylamdouglas.com

inkMend

inkMend

inkMend is a writer’s safe space on Medium to express experience with pain and write to heal from trauma. Inspired fiction, poetry, and non-fiction/memoir welcome.