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I Hope It Hurts Your Feelings Too

Let me just start by saying something loud and clear:

 
There is no CURE to Migraine.

Now let that sink in. Let that sink in so far that you think of all the other things in this world that don’t have a cure. Cancer for example. Yeah, there’s medical treatments, but nothing guarantees that it won’t come back.

Parkinson’s Disease. Alzheimer’s. Coeliac Disease. Scoliosis. Fibromyalgia. Endometriosis. Cystitis. Chron’s Disease.

All of these conditions, whether they develop over time, reveal themselves, or are forever ongoing conditions, all fall under that same category. As hard as we may fight, there isn’t a cure. It isn’t reversible. Eventually, it will win.

So in all honesty, I hope your feelings get hurt. I hope you recognize where your faults lie, and how incredibility inhumane you treat individuals who may not even appear to be sick, but are suffering severely.

What if I told you that Migraine fit with all these other conditions and that it was just as bad? You wouldn’t know. Because to you, it is just a headache.

To you, I just need to go see a chiropractor.

To you, I just need to drink more water.

To you, I shouldn’t eat so many carbs.

To you, I should try not to be so stressed out.

To you, I should just push through, it can’t possibly be that bad.

To you, I should really go see a doctor.

To you, I should try and get more sleep.

more exercise.

more.

more something.

There is always this endless list of all the things YOU think that I should be doing. There are always all these alternative options to every goddamn thing.

There is never a convenient time to explain to someone the ins and outs of migraine. There is never a time when I could encapsulate all that it is and make it understandable. There also doesn’t seem to be a time when people actual care.

You sit and you seem concerned. That’s fine. But then YOU turn it around on ME.

YOU turned a genetic disorder that I have absolutely no control over, that a cure doesn’t exist for, back around on ME.

I have to sit back and listen to the comments. Oh god, the comments.

“Oh gosh my head hurts” mumbled under your breath as you’re wishing you could just leave work early. Wow, I can’t imagine what that’s like.

“Well what medicines have you tried” well what medicines haven’t I tried.

“You must not be feeling good today” Actually my appearance doesn’t have any correlation to how I feel. I always feel horrible. Stop talking about it.

And if I have one more person ask me “How I do it?” or “How I live with the pain everyday?” I might just have to slap you in the face. If you wonder why I’m not stressed about school or work or my finances or boy problems, its because at the end of the day, I can be a good student, a good employee, and I don’t mess with boys, I don’t have time. But that’s the point. I don’t have time for boys, because I have to be a good student and a good employee, but all of that depends on the level of throbbing my head decides to be at for the day. I have no answer for you to your questions. I don’t have time to worry about day to day anything. I get every day about an hour at a time. And I have to take it an hour at a time.

And those hours are usually accompanied by the demeaning comments, vague suggestions, and extremely way to personal intrusions and questionings into my life.

And for some reason, I sit back and I don’t snap at any of you. Why?

Well I can’t image you’d respond well if I told you that there isn’t a cure for being a bitch. I can’t respond to your inconvenient headache with “Imagine if you had that everyday” because I’m not trying to make you feel like your pain isn’t valid. No one wants to hear that I don’t have time for all of these insignificant details because most likely I’ll be dead before any of then come to mean anything.

I hope it makes you really uncomfortable knowing that people are all around you in so much pain that they don’t think they’ll live to see the end of it. Or that they pray that this is the end of it.

You hurt my feelings by pressing for information and then acting like the cause of my migraine is somehow my fault.

You hurt my feelings by trying to diminish my pain and make it insignificant,

You hurt my feelings by pretending to care and then turning you back on me.

So to those who have been by my side, thank you. Thank you for always being understanding. Thank you for knowing that I can’t control how I feel. Thank you for listening when I rant about all the horrible things I have to listen to day in and day out.

-A

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