[Sober Living] My Modernist Migraine

When my clusters of headaches knock upon my head’s door, I wish not for migraines. I am fortunate when I only have tension headaches for they only reduce my thought processes to the point where I can forget language and concepts; I once drove home from work sick head-deep in a tension headache and I had trouble remembering the rules of the roads. You can work around them. Migraines take the life out of you.

I woke up just fine.

Other than some lethargy, which I pushed through with a rowing set, there wasn’t much stewing until I had the brewings of a mild headache. Less than one hour later, the pressure behind my right eye – always the right eye – was too much to take. This feeling is always the same for a tension headache. I want to stab the space between my eye and nose with a needle and draw out the extraneous liquid that’s causing me to feel this tension. One trick I’d learned to overcome this is to take a deep breath and exhale but hold my nose and mouth so the air has to escape through any open orifice.

This is how I deal with air differential pressure and tension headaches.

Fifteen minutes later, while reading a book, I had to stop. My right eye hurt so much that I had to close my eyes. I thought over a sad scene from “The Story” and my left eye teared down. I returned from the restroom to realize I had a full-blown migraine. The lights were too painful to have around so I turned them off, found my sunglasses, and tried to avoid sleep since it would ruin my night shift schedule on my day off. Two 15-minute naps later, I started to feel better, but I consumed calories acquiescing the pain that my body felt as my mind couldn’t tolerate much more obedience toward healthy living.

Even now, my mind still flirts with this distant migraine.

I had plans today, most of which I had to change because of this brain deficiency. I am angry that the doctor I spoke to about headaches disregarded me because I didn’t usually get migraines; well, here’s your fucking migraine, you academic asshole; I bet you’ve never even experienced a headache since you haven’t used your brain at all. I’m trying to get another doctor but the agency that found the first doctor is dragging their feet toward finding another doctor. So I must suffer.

That is my life, then, I guess.

I hate this. I stopped wearing my sunglasses to write this essay and I feel the singes of soft light on my eyes. The tension headache is there, too. I don’t want to do anything. My mind is justifying every reason imaginable not to fulfill the remainder of the activities I wanted to do today. Eating all that food was just to justify not sleeping immediately; sugar to feel better.

I won’t let this migraine take my mind.

Endtable:
Quotes: None.
Sources: My personal and professional experiences.
Inspirations: I probably couldn’t’ve formed the words during the migraine trip and even right now these words feel hollow.
Related: Other Sober Living essays.
Photo: My glasses. Originally, I was drawing the white outline around the glasses to fill that space outside the glasses with white, but equal parts lacking energy and inspiration, it looked like a white outline.
Written On: October 11th [23 minutes, from 8:10am to 8:33am roughly, WordPress]
Last Edited: October 11th [First draft; final draft for the Internet.]
My big goal is to write. My important goal is to write "The Story." My proudest moment is the most recent time I overcame a fear, which should have been today. I'm a better zombie than I was yesterday. Let's strive to be better everyday. (Avatar)