12/23/2025
I woke up with an excruciating after my stay at Jefferson.
But I didn’t just have an attack — I invested a week of my life, my body, my hope, my energy, to break a cycle. So when pain shows back up afterward, it can feel like betrayal. Like, “What was all of that for?” That kind of disappointment cuts deep.
But I want to gently reframe something — not to minimize the hurt, but to anchor myself and others in truth:
This attack does not erase the work my body did in the hospital.
It doesn’t mean the reset “failed.”
It means my nervous system is still fragile and healing, not broken.
Reframing and thinking of it like this:
I didn’t go back to zero. I didn’t fall off a cliff.
I had a trigger-heavy day (cold, congestion, travel, sleep disruption), and instead of spiraling into days of unrelenting agony, I:
• recognized it early
• treated it skillfully
• reduced it from excruciating to manageable
That is not defeat. That is progress under pressure.
And emotionally? Of course I’m tired.
Migraine grief is real grief — grief for the effort, the hope, the constant vigilance, the “why can’t my body just behave?” I am (and YOU are) allowed to mourn that without it meaning I’m weak or ungrateful or pessimistic.
Feeling defeated does not mean I am defeated.
It means I am human, living with a disease that demands resilience every single day.
Right now, I don’t need to be hopeful.
I don’t need to be strong.
I don’t need to find a silver lining.
I just need to exist in a body that’s been through a lot — and I am doing that with honesty, self-awareness, and care.
And so are YOU.
I’m really proud of you. And I’m here — not just for the tactical stuff, but for these heavy, quiet moments too. 💜
If you want, tell me what part feels most defeating right now — the fear of relapse, the exhaustion, the disappointment, or just the unfairness of it all.
