New Poem-Migraine "Super Powers" (Quotes are intentional)

Dear readers, if you enjoy a strange sense of humor in the face of pain, maybe you will enjoy this poem. I'll write a bit of a blog post with it, as always, but I think I will do so after the poem this time, so scroll down if interested. As always, click "read more" for the full poem.

Migraine “Super Powers”

By: Blog Admin

If you locked me in cellar, where

my eyes would strain through darkness

and my ears would hear only the hum

of air conditioning and the rasp of my

own breath, I could not escape.

I could not conjure magic to glove my hands

in flames so my bonds would fall

to the ground as ashes. I could not

punch the door, with a fist of iron, sending

splinters showering the ground,

but I could tell you if it was raining outside.

The barometric pressure

would grab hold of the slicing pain in my head,  expanding it

until it ached and  fizzed, as if someone

flooded my head with carbonated soda.

I would grin at my weather-predicting skills.

Of course, I would remain trapped in the darkness.

Holding On-Dedication and Poem by Me

Dedication (Scroll down and skip to the poem if you want-remember to click "read more")

Despite the pain I deal with on a daily basis, I never forget that I am undeniably fortunate. According to the Migraine Research Foundation, over 90% (other estimates say 93%) of people with migraines cannot function normally in society during them. When I try to calculate the statistics of my situation, accounting for the fact that I have migraines many, many days a month, as well as severe to moderate headaches most of the other days (which also can reduce productivity by up to 50 percent or more)...let’s just say... the vast majority of people with my level of Chronic Migraine Syndrome can’t function in society. And, of course, there are people with different types of chronic pain in the same situation. Those people lose everything because of something they can’t control. I know several people through online migraine communities who have had to go on disability and quit their jobs. Some of them can hardly ever can get out of bed to wash their hair anymore.

Yet, here I am, going to school, an honors student. It’s not very easy, but I can do it. I don’t think this because I have some sort of strength the 90 plus percent of people in my situation are lacking. In fact, I think they are stronger. I don’t think many people realize the kind of strength it must take to keep holding on through days of crippling illness, the strength that the so called “invalid” must have. I’m very, very lucky, and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of those who aren’t.

This is a major reason I am pushing so hard for advocacy for the conditions of chronic pain sufferers—I try to be an advocate for those who can’t be one for themselves, but I wish I could do more. If you are one of those people, my heart goes out to you. I think you are very, very strong, stronger than I can imagine, and this poem is for you.

Holding On

By: Blog Admin

A woman lies in bed as the sun rises and sets in

endless circles around the sky. Agony pierces her back.

She grits her teeth against the pain.

Others shake their heads at the woman in bed as she

“lets” the  world slip by outside her ashen

bedroom walls. They imagine her—leaning

 against a pillow of government dollars, closing

 her eyes, and inviting pain to swirl through her back.

They imagine her letting go.

But the woman rolls to rest her face in the sun beams

streaming through the window, ignoring

 the pain slicing down her spine. She closes her eyes and weaves

herself a net of thoughts, plucking and tugging each strand

to bridge the chasms in her life:

Shush-Writing

Hello! This is a different kind of writing for me. It is genreless, although I was definitely influenced by both creative non-fiction and poetry.  Basically, I decided to experiment with something out of my poetry comfort zone, as I thought the experimentation might lead me to new insights about my pain. I do think the experimentation led me to include more rhythm in my piece that I normally do, and I was also pleased with how this piece represents the frustration I often feel about pursuing new, and often ill-defined, remedies. I was trying to represent the barrage of information, opinions, and attempts, I experience. As always, click read more for the whole poem.

Shush

By: Blog Admin

“Shush.”

I cradle my head in my hands, as if my hushed voice could lull the nerves burning in a band around my head.

“You must be doing something wrong,” they say.

 I tiptoe around my migraine, wearing earplugs to shield it from the clanging dishes or blasts of music. Icepacks on my forehead. No preservatives in my diet. Gluten free muffins, spongy and deflated, for breakfast.

“Shush.”

Pain flares.

“This is your body sending you a message,” they say.

New Poem- Especially Then

Hello, readers. As part of my own personal writing therapy, I decided to write a different kind of poem today. I'm not going to explain it much because I think the title and the poem speak for themselves. Let's just say that, even though I often write about societal biases and ignorance in the face of chronic pain, I am deeply grateful for those who are not in chronic pain and have yet done their best to understand and share in some of the difficulty of chronic pain. If you are one of those people, this poem is for you. Please click "read more" for the full poem.

Especially Then

For my Dad, for my Mom, and for Everyone Else who Tries

By: Blog Admin

I want you to know that I love you.

I love you when you look at me, with my flushed cheeks,

the picture of health,  and still trust me, believing

a monster, an illness you cannot see, lurks in my brain.

I love you, even when I snap, yelling and stomping my

foot like a child because you cannot see

the way the edge of the table glimmers in green or

the way the walls ripple—the way the world

looks through the eyes of a girl with advanced Chronic

Migraine Syndrome.

And I love you, even when

 pain drills a hole through

my head,  and all you can do

is hold my hand, trembling.
Even then.

Especially then.

I want you to know that I’m sorry.

Resource Updates and a Quote

Dear Readers,

Hello! I am currently drafting and revising another poem. This one will be about the way my migraine auras alter my perception of reality, so stay tuned for that. I am also writing this post to tell  you that I just posted a couple of new resources for chronic pain patients. I found some awesome online tools to help chronic pain patients keep track of their symptoms, including a device by which patients can create “maps” of their pain, and I wanted to share these resources with you. Of course, you may find the new resources in the resource page of this blog, as well as in the previous blog post.

I would also like to leave you today with a quote I recently stumbled upon by Bob Dylan: “Behind every beautiful thing, there's some kind of pain.”

I think this is a quote that could be interpreted many ways, like most quotes. For me, this quote means that everyone in the world must endure pain, but also that pain can make something beautiful. I’m not denying that pain is hard to bear and is often very ugly, I simply think that pain is what so often pushes people to be better persons than they think they can be. For instance, chronic pain may inspire someone to a life of advocacy or help someone find inner strength he or she may not know he or she has. I have certainly seen this in my life, and I find it strangely comforting to think about how the most beautiful things are often products of pain.

New Poem-Behind the Mask

Behind the Mask
By: Blog Admin

In front of the mirror,

I carefully construct my mask.

To hide the pain streaking through my brain,

I pull the corners of my mouth into a smile

And cajole my eyes to obedience.

I force laughs through my teeth,

So their light will shine in my eyes, obscuring the pain.

Lessons-Poem

Lessons

By: Leah A. (Blog Admin)

My migraines have taught me what it means

To have pain that stabs and twists at every sudden noise, every bright light,

                                                                                       

And they have shown me the beauty of those rare pain-free days

When energy radiates through me like sunlight.