This is a post I wrote a couple years ago that I originally only shared with friends and family. I'm sharing it with you all today in hopes that it can provide some clarity and understanding for those of you who may not experience chronic pain, and help those who do.
August 25, 2015
I'm not writing this to gain your pity, or to rant (ok, a little bit to rant), but mostly because I think people need to try harder to have empathy for one another. Whether it's culturally, politically, in the workplace, or when speaking about physical and mental health, we all just need to care a little bit more, and actually try to understand.
For those that I'm close to, you probably know that I've suffered from chronic migraine since I was about 10 years old. For those that I'm not, you probably had no idea, and just thought I was a major flake, or work from home too often. If someone suffers from chronic migraine, it means they experience symptoms 15 days or more per month. I'm 23, but have lived as many healthy days as most people have at the age of 16. I've hit rock bottom, and I'm at a point where I'm ready to try anything to get my life back. Which is probably why I paused Jillian Michael's to sit down and write this, at 9 pm on Wednesday night.
I actually vividly remember my first migraine. Samira's 4th grade birthday party, I left the movie theater and puked up the entire contents of Samira's goodie bag. My parents came to pick me up, and I'm pretty sure my dad gave me a mini car speech which included his go-to lines: "Too much candy, Tays!" and "make sure you floss tonight."
That was the beginning. Then there was our family friend Jake's bar mitzvah (my dad was actually pretty bummed about missing the sundae station on this one, he still brings it up today), 5th grade overnight field trip (puked on boat from the 1800's, how many people can say that?), Girl Scout camping trip...migraine three years in a row (I'm pretty sure that deserves some kind of Brownie award), picture day, and countless others.
These are the big days- the one's that I vividly remember. There were also hundreds, probably thousands, of days where I was unable to study for a test, go to gymnastics practice, was dry heaving for 10+ hours straight, unable to get out of bed or open my eyes.
They started getting worse throughout college. My preventative medicine stopped working, I missed social events, classes, parties, and days in bed would turn into Urgent Care and ER visits. I've seen multiple neurologists, had 4 inch needles poked in my head, done physical therapy, tried botox, had blood tests, gone gluten-free for a year (never knew how much I appreciated a good bagel), acupuncture, chiropractic work, massage therapy- you name it.
For those who have never experienced a migraine (a true debilitating, throwing up, ER kind of migraine), you're one fucking lucky human being. When people ask what it feels like, I literally have no words to explain it. I'm so grateful that I have an amazingly caring best friend who grew up with a mom who experienced chronic migraines. Seeing her mom go through what she did, she has an idea of what it's like, and has been there to take me to the ER every time, knows exactly what to tell each doctor when my head's in the trashcan, and got me a leopard cover for my hot pack (that I use to put on my head as temporarily relief) for my birthday- that's how you know a friend truly gets you. Not gonna lie, that was one of the most exciting, and thoughtful birthday gifts I've ever received.
But the worst is when your family, roommate, significant other, or in my case, random people on the internet... just don't get it. I've had boyfriends who tell me to drink water and it will go away (you're funny), or ask to Skype 5 minutes after I told them I had a migraine (as much as I'd like to see your face, it probably wouldn't look as cute on a vomit-covered computer screen.) This isn't their fault, it's hard to feel what someone's going through if you've never felt it yourself.
But if you're someone who experiences chronic pain, you know that it's the most degrading, belittling feeling when someone doesn't try to recognize, or empathize with the pain that you're going through.
Recently, my best friend (leopard-hot pack-birthday-present-best-friend), found out that she has a fractured spine, which basically means her sciatic nerve sends horrible pain down her back and leg, and sometimes she can't walk.
I have no idea what she's going through. The closest thing to "back pain" I've experienced is when you fall asleep on a yoga mat for too long and feel like you're 90 years old when you try to stand up.
This is obviously nothing like what she's going through. I try to make a conscious effort to continuously put myself in her shoes, learn what helps and doesn't help, and be aware of what I'm saying.
Let's take words like "I feel you" and "I'm sorry" out of our vocabulary, because are you actually? You might be, but for someone experiencing chronic pain, we usually quietly say thank you, but inside are upset, alone, and frustrated, because those are the words that you're trained to say.
Instead, take a minute to try and put yourself in someone else's shoes. Literally- go in the bathroom or close your eyes, sit there, and think. If you're having trouble imagining what they're physically feeling like (which is really hard), empathize with the fact that someone you care about is going through something really shitty.
Sometimes the best thing to do is to not say anything. I feel like that's a cliche quote I've probably run across on Pinterest, but really... try it. Hug them, be there for them, and do things that show that you're trying, because the smallest gestures are what makes the biggest difference.
Let them know that you're trying to imagine what they're going through, and ask them how you can help, or how you can better understand.
Whether it's someone's health, religion, or beliefs, try to embody being empathetic. It's something that I continuously work on. I truly believe that empathy has the power to heal wounds, help prevent war, and allow people to more effectively communicate, because when we're empathetic towards one another, we get it. We are consciously making an effort to hear someone's story, and learn how they feel, or why they believe what they believe. We have a new perspective that allows us to internalize, and begin to process what someone, a society, or a culture is going through.
If you experience debilitating migraines, I'd love to hear what's worked for you. If you experience chronic pain, be communicative with your loved ones about what's helpful, and what's really not. At the end of the day, they want to be there for you, they usually just don't know how.
August 25, 2015
I'm not writing this to gain your pity, or to rant (ok, a little bit to rant), but mostly because I think people need to try harder to have empathy for one another. Whether it's culturally, politically, in the workplace, or when speaking about physical and mental health, we all just need to care a little bit more, and actually try to understand.
For those that I'm close to, you probably know that I've suffered from chronic migraine since I was about 10 years old. For those that I'm not, you probably had no idea, and just thought I was a major flake, or work from home too often. If someone suffers from chronic migraine, it means they experience symptoms 15 days or more per month. I'm 23, but have lived as many healthy days as most people have at the age of 16. I've hit rock bottom, and I'm at a point where I'm ready to try anything to get my life back. Which is probably why I paused Jillian Michael's to sit down and write this, at 9 pm on Wednesday night.
I actually vividly remember my first migraine. Samira's 4th grade birthday party, I left the movie theater and puked up the entire contents of Samira's goodie bag. My parents came to pick me up, and I'm pretty sure my dad gave me a mini car speech which included his go-to lines: "Too much candy, Tays!" and "make sure you floss tonight."
That was the beginning. Then there was our family friend Jake's bar mitzvah (my dad was actually pretty bummed about missing the sundae station on this one, he still brings it up today), 5th grade overnight field trip (puked on boat from the 1800's, how many people can say that?), Girl Scout camping trip...migraine three years in a row (I'm pretty sure that deserves some kind of Brownie award), picture day, and countless others.
These are the big days- the one's that I vividly remember. There were also hundreds, probably thousands, of days where I was unable to study for a test, go to gymnastics practice, was dry heaving for 10+ hours straight, unable to get out of bed or open my eyes.
They started getting worse throughout college. My preventative medicine stopped working, I missed social events, classes, parties, and days in bed would turn into Urgent Care and ER visits. I've seen multiple neurologists, had 4 inch needles poked in my head, done physical therapy, tried botox, had blood tests, gone gluten-free for a year (never knew how much I appreciated a good bagel), acupuncture, chiropractic work, massage therapy- you name it.
For those who have never experienced a migraine (a true debilitating, throwing up, ER kind of migraine), you're one fucking lucky human being. When people ask what it feels like, I literally have no words to explain it. I'm so grateful that I have an amazingly caring best friend who grew up with a mom who experienced chronic migraines. Seeing her mom go through what she did, she has an idea of what it's like, and has been there to take me to the ER every time, knows exactly what to tell each doctor when my head's in the trashcan, and got me a leopard cover for my hot pack (that I use to put on my head as temporarily relief) for my birthday- that's how you know a friend truly gets you. Not gonna lie, that was one of the most exciting, and thoughtful birthday gifts I've ever received.
But the worst is when your family, roommate, significant other, or in my case, random people on the internet... just don't get it. I've had boyfriends who tell me to drink water and it will go away (you're funny), or ask to Skype 5 minutes after I told them I had a migraine (as much as I'd like to see your face, it probably wouldn't look as cute on a vomit-covered computer screen.) This isn't their fault, it's hard to feel what someone's going through if you've never felt it yourself.
But if you're someone who experiences chronic pain, you know that it's the most degrading, belittling feeling when someone doesn't try to recognize, or empathize with the pain that you're going through.
Recently, my best friend (leopard-hot pack-birthday-present-best-friend), found out that she has a fractured spine, which basically means her sciatic nerve sends horrible pain down her back and leg, and sometimes she can't walk.
I have no idea what she's going through. The closest thing to "back pain" I've experienced is when you fall asleep on a yoga mat for too long and feel like you're 90 years old when you try to stand up.
This is obviously nothing like what she's going through. I try to make a conscious effort to continuously put myself in her shoes, learn what helps and doesn't help, and be aware of what I'm saying.
Let's take words like "I feel you" and "I'm sorry" out of our vocabulary, because are you actually? You might be, but for someone experiencing chronic pain, we usually quietly say thank you, but inside are upset, alone, and frustrated, because those are the words that you're trained to say.
Instead, take a minute to try and put yourself in someone else's shoes. Literally- go in the bathroom or close your eyes, sit there, and think. If you're having trouble imagining what they're physically feeling like (which is really hard), empathize with the fact that someone you care about is going through something really shitty.
Sometimes the best thing to do is to not say anything. I feel like that's a cliche quote I've probably run across on Pinterest, but really... try it. Hug them, be there for them, and do things that show that you're trying, because the smallest gestures are what makes the biggest difference.
Let them know that you're trying to imagine what they're going through, and ask them how you can help, or how you can better understand.
Whether it's someone's health, religion, or beliefs, try to embody being empathetic. It's something that I continuously work on. I truly believe that empathy has the power to heal wounds, help prevent war, and allow people to more effectively communicate, because when we're empathetic towards one another, we get it. We are consciously making an effort to hear someone's story, and learn how they feel, or why they believe what they believe. We have a new perspective that allows us to internalize, and begin to process what someone, a society, or a culture is going through.
If you experience debilitating migraines, I'd love to hear what's worked for you. If you experience chronic pain, be communicative with your loved ones about what's helpful, and what's really not. At the end of the day, they want to be there for you, they usually just don't know how.
