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.

New Poem-5 Senses of Migraine Auras

Hello, readers. Here is the poem I promised about my migraine auras. While you will probably get the idea from the poem, for those of you who don't know, an aura is when a patient experiences a strange sensation of some part before or during a neurological phenomenon, typically a migraine or seizure. These auras can include lights, sensitivity to sound, and well...my poem includes others as well. I only recently learned that it is rare for someone to experience auras in all five senses in a short period of time, so I though I would write a poem about what these five sense auras are like. I also have experienced other aura related symptoms not include here, such as memory loss, aphasia (difficulty remembering words/language), and loss of balance. I hope you enjoy this poem. 

5 Senses of Migraine Auras

By: Blog Admin

My throat prickles with

dryness, but I narrow

my eyes at the five feet of linoleum

between my chair and the sink. The

pain –my migraine—twists, a

chain coiled around my head.

I glance at the sink, but instead of

seeing muted steel, the sink shimmers with yellow

and green. A couple blinks, a shake of my

head, and the pain slices above my

left eye,  the lights dancing

in rhythm to the pain.

A Good Day-A Poem

Hi everyone! Since I have written poems describing my chronic pain condition before, I decided to focus on the days when I don't have any pain this time. They don't happen very often, but when they do, they are beautiful. (Click on read more for the whole poem).

A Good Day

 By: Blog Admin

I open my eyes to greet the day and

freeze—

my head feels light

as cotton.

 I prod the side of my

face with a shaking hand.

Nothing—no pain at all. 

New Poem-Bean Bag Toss

Beanbag Toss

By: Blog Admin

I stride forward and toss

a denim beanbag, savoring the thud

it makes as it hits the wood one inch

 away from the hole on the board.

A laser beam of sun hits me,

sending splinters of pain between my eyes.

My fingers wander to massage the spot,

but I halt them and twirl my hair instead.

New Poem-That Old Jellyfish

That Old Jellyfish
By: Blog admin

A jelly fish lives in my brain.

Sometimes, it flays its tentacles,

shooting electric pulses through my neurons,

New Poem-Happiness

Happiness

By: Leah A. (Blog Admin)

A dull ache throbs in the back of my skull

As I gaze at a sunrise. The drowsy prairie

glows in hues of rose and violet.

Absentmindedly, I massage my aching skull,

And I smile.

How should I measure my happiness?

Should I measure it in the number

Of throbs that shoot in my head per minute,

Or the paltry number of days when I do not have pain?

Should I measure it according to items scrawled on a crumpled piece of paper--

A list, which I made years ago, of the things my migraines forbid me to do?

Or, should I measure it in the number

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.