"I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. I’ve learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you’ll miss them when they’re gone from your life. I’ve learned that making a “living” is not the same thing as making a “life.” I’ve learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back. I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. I’ve learned that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one. I’ve learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn. I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel."
#so that's where that quote came from
"Start ignoring people who threaten your joy.
#note to self
Literally, ignore them.
Don’t invite any parts of them into your space."
Now that I’ve released my anger in writing, I’m overwhelmed by a sense of hopelessness.
It seems every time I’m reaching for the answer or “cure,” it slips away and I end up right back where I started. I’m a healthy person. I try to eat well, exercise, I avoid all the migraine triggers I can think of, and still I’m haunted by this monster. Worst of all, most people have no fucking idea. I can’t tell you how many professors I’ve had who get irritated with me for arriving late to their morning classes, or missing days, because of my migraines. “This is really getting to be a problem, Tana. I can respect a health issue but you really need to get it sorted out if you want to do well in this class.” It’s comments like these that send a fucking knife straight through my chest. I’ve had a good number of peers (who claim to be migraine sufferers as well) say to me on numerous occasions that whenever they just don’t “feel like” going to class, they’ll say they have migraines and it makes me want to fucking vomit. All I want to do is go to my classes and feel well and do well.
People don’t understand how many pages I’ve had ripped out of my life. They don’t know how many times I’ve made plans and had to call the morning of to report I won’t be able to get out of bed. There are countless people I wanted to see, events I wanted desperately to attend, classes I should have been able to go to, and opportunities that slipped away. And it makes me want to cry and scream, but I can’t even do that for fear of worsening the migraine. This is not meant as a “woe is me” cry for attention, nor an attempt at self-pity. I guess I don’t even know what it is. Maybe just a rant to say I’m tired. I’m tired of this invisible evil that seeks to crush every ounce of patience and joy from my life. I’m tired of doctors who don’t seem to give a flying shit. I’m tired of people who don’t care to understand.
Migraines and Shit Doctors
#who should go fuck themselves
#Someone just shoot me now
Generally speaking, I’ve been blessed with good health. Sure, I’ve had my moments and I almost died when I got sepsis in 2010, but other than that, my record is pretty clear. There is one ailment, however, from which I’ve suffered almost my entire life and that’s migraines. [Common misconception for the fortunate individual who has never experienced a migraine: it is not a headache. Is it pain, often most severely affecting the head, yes, but it is so so much more. When I get a migraine, I shut down. It starts off as a headache and I’ll take meds and hope for it to get better. When it doesn’t, I know I’ve got a migraine. It causes me to crumble; all I can do is lie in fetal position in bed with a blindfold, praying for absolute silence for hours on end. Now, although migraines can differ significantly from person to person, for me I am extremely light and sound sensitive. Every tiny noise, from the cat jumping to the windowsill, to the washing machine in the other room, causes a crippling, throbbing pain. Every trace of light is like pressing a hot iron into my eyes.]