First week of school is complete. There is a long weekend ahead of me, a much needed chance to relax and get a head on some homework.
My classes are great. I’m taking World Lit, Oral Interpretation, African American Lit, Linguistics and Principles of Learning this semester. World Literature is basically literature from all over the world, it excludes American and British lit which is covered in numerous other classes. We started with a bit of French literature this week. Oral Interpretation is more like a drama or acting class than a literature class. It fulfils my theater requirement so it’s pretty much what I expected. African American Lit is basically what it says on the tin. My professor is really cool, she gave a great lecture on Wednesday on identity. It really resonated with me as I recently accepted the labels of “migrainuer” and “disabled” when I began this blog. Linguistics is interesting and I have a couple friends in that class as well. We have a good time. Principles of Learning is one of my major education classes, I really excited to get into the content and get into schools to observe and potentially teach.
I was spooked on Monday, my first day. My head was suspiciously quiet. I had a migraine on Friday and dumbly made the comment “if I’m doing this today, then I should feel pretty good come Monday.” Come Monday, when my head was quiet and I was expecting something, anything, I became spooked. What I got out of the experience was that I can’t enjoy the low pain days because I fear them almost as much as I do the bad days. It’s the waiting, waiting for the pain to come back. I’m waiting for it to be bad, to punish me for thinking so dumbly that I could be normal. It’s like noticing all the background noise is gone. The one thing that took me a long time to admit and even longer aloud is that I miss it when it’s gone. Not being in slight pain doesn’t feel right, it makes my skin crawl. It’s like sensory overload. The slight bit of pain dampens things. It’s all I know.
The pain and the silence are equally isolating. At least when the pain is high, my mental health doesn’t take a nose dive. The quiet and new stress from school did a number on my anxiety. I worried the first two days of class to the point of exhaustion about various things, my migraines and headaches, about homework, and telling my professors about missing class in the future because of migraines. The anxiety manifested as needless worrying.
I’m having a lot of particular anxiety about Jefferson. With my head being suspiciously quiet, I wonder if I should cancel my appointments and apologize to all my doctors for wasting their time. The big deal I make about my migraines and headaches seems to pathetic and unnecessary when I’m well. It’s always one extreme to the other. I trivialize my head when I’m well, feeling something akin to embarrassment for the fuss I create. But when I’m stuck in bed, I feel like I need medical attention then and now. As the scale tips from one to the other, I’m slammed into either wall. I feel like I’m losing my mind, like the pain I experience while being in my head, is one of my own creation with no physical ailment, that I’m creating this. These thoughts infiltrate my mind when I’m well, when the very real pain is a distant memory. The well spell has been long enough that I listen to these anxiety induced whispers. I’m beginning to wonder, while I do not have a lot of free time, if I should make time to go back to therapy.
I’m still trying to find the balance between migraines and school. I’m hoping I find it sooner than later. I’m hoping my grades do not take a nose dive before and following my appointment and any subsequent treatment like they did in the spring when I had a spinal tap. I am missing solid, flat, steady ground.
More Than a Headache 