Inspired by my friend Lisa’s video for Migraine.com, I wrote this post on Facebook. Now I am sharing it here as well because I think it’s super important. Lisa identified something that has been bothering me a lot lately, and partially prompted my last blog entry.
It’s been a good week. The last day or two, I have been vivacious and social and affectionate with my friends. I have been able to be what I think of as *my best self.*
But just one month ago, being in public with those very same friends (my theatre family) was agony. I’d had a week-long attack and subsequent depression and when I was able to push through, I didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Or laugh, or talk, and when I did talk I stammered and mumbled. I came late and left early. I constantly wiped away tears either due to panic and sadness, or migraine symptoms. I was emotionally over-sensitive. I winced and flinched from the fluorescent lighting and noise.
In public during a flare or attack, I wear mentholated patches on my head and TheraSpecs on my face. I dose up on medication, increasing migraine’s cognitive difficulties. I hide. At home I’m under the covers in the dark. In public, I will hide behind my hair, or in shadowy corners, or in my car, or in the restroom. I pull into myself, hunching my shoulders. I pile concealer on dark circles and the cystic acne from immunodeficiency and meds. I am a wounded deer in headlights.
The other aspect of a long attack for me, and something not touched on in the video below, is my social media activity. I am a patient advocate for migraine disease. While confined to bed, I share my (admittedly depressing at best, disturbing at worst) feelings about the process. I share my symptoms and how they are affecting my family. I share exactly how I’m feeling emotionally. That can be understandably uncomfortable for people, to read that (as during Cinderella’s tech week) I feel almost like I don’t want to live anymore if I can’t be doing what I love most. Publicly discussing severe pain and illness, depression, and suicidality is taboo. But talking about it is what I do. It is, quite literally, my job.
It is also Lisa Benson‘s job. In this video, she explains why during an attack we can seem withdrawn and changed. It would mean so much to me if people could watch my friend speak for us, describing why we stammer, why we hide. Especially my supporters and much-loved friends at HYT and Julie’s Dance Studio. I may tag you in comments. That doesn’t mean I feel you don’t care. It means I know you do.
Thank you for giving me a voice, Lisa. You’re amazing. 💜 We all are.