My Life. My Migraine.

I'd be crazy to think that "normal" in terms of life as a disabled migraine patient should look anything like your "normal"... When I say this, I want you to think about your week. For the most part, you work your scheduled days, enjoy your weekends, and absolutely dread waking up on a Monday morning. That's your routine. Even as a student, Monday's are dreadful and suddenly you're halfway through the semester wondering how on Earth you've gone this many weeks and how this new semester's routine became so normal so fast. Each day brings a new attitude, because each day is closer to the weekend or a fun event. I have to admit, with football season pretty much being over, I don't know what day it is 99% of the time. That's crazy right? I think it is. My "days" exist in a bubble of I took medicine two days ago, so even though I need some today, I have to wait until tomorrow. I leave my medication on my counte

I want to address you in the proper way, but I feel like in order to do that, I need to address myself. Because, when I first was told I had migraines, there was so much information I wish I had at my fingertips. So, in Brad Paisley style, if I could write a letter to me... (That is also to you - newly diagnosed, finally diagnosed, lacking a diagnosis and surrounded by an entire group of people who will never truly get it) First, I want to let you know that are you are so far from being alone in this. 1 in every 4 households in the US includes someone who has migraines. That's over 38 million people in our country. Migraines come about for all sorts of reasons, and you're going to spend the rest of your life being grilled by the general population as to what is causing yours. There's really two main categories if you ask me, those of us who are genetically predisposed to developing migraines because one our parents experienced them and those of us who have expe

A few months back, I touched on this idea, but you see I wasn't in the right place when I touched on it. There's this awful stigma about being happy and what needs to happen in your life for you to be happy. Being sick or disabled certainly doesn't meet those requirements. If you want to see the original post, click here ... it'll give you a little perspective, but I'm sure most of you have already seen it. So, I lay out my crystals again. Apparently charging them under an eclipse isn't the right thing to do, but that's what I did and I never got around to putting them back out under the full moon. I mean, it probably doesn't matter as I use them as decorations... but wow lets just pause and admire their beauty. I wanted to revisit this idea. What is happiness? Maybe it is enjoying things in my way and choosing to take the time for activities like yoga and watching the endless stream of college and pro football games. But, I think the

Botox. No no, not the kind that freezes your face and is an expensive cosmetic treatment favored by rich white women everywhere. Pure Botox that is used for many medical applications. The idea that has been shoved down my throat as the route I need to take since before my migraines were even chronic... The product that has a very large payout associated with it for any doctor who successfully uses it to treat their patients. It took 2 whole years for me to even accept the idea that Botox was for me. It took 2 years for me to push past my fears and brush over the thousands of horror stories associated with this treatment. This time last year I sat in a brand new doctor's office and we were going to try Botox. I didn't argue. I didn't look for other options, I agreed that it was time to start it. Before he even had the opportunity to have insurance deny him, I called and told him no and requested to see a different specialist. Why? Because in his other decisi

When we're in middle school we all sat out of gym for a quarter here or there to attend Health class. What a useless class if you ask me... We sit and we learn that smoking is bad. Alcohol is bad. We label female and male parts but are basically told just not to have sex. We talk about obesity and body image and how serious anorexia and bulimia are. Really, at least in my experience, we watched the Super Size Me documentary and called it a day. That class held so much potential and could use a bit of a revamp. Because he we are, I'm 21 years old and I have to defend my weight. My weight is the subject of thousands of conversations that I NEVER signed up for. This past week, a post went viral basically saying that in the name of mental health and those who struggle with body image, we need to stop sharing our fitness journeys. We never should post our before and after weight loss pictures. Ever. That's something that is now considered out of line. Because appare

What is accessibility? What does it mean to you? What does it mean to those around you? How people will live there lives? How does accessibility linger in every corner of our lives? It doesn't. I remember very vividly one of my first lectures in architecture. We sat and a panel of architects and designers were speaking to us regarding sustainability. One of the lead designers looked at us and said we'd be spending most of our time as students and professionals tediously working to remain within codes and that concepts like sustainability and accessible design hindered our creative processes. It was what we would end up hating  about our chosen field. My first semester as an Interior Design student, we were learning about residential design. One of the largest underlying themes within that semester was also learning about the codes and requirements of ADA design. American Disability Association. Formed in 1940. American Disability Act. 1990. 1990 was a treme

Every morning moves along as if it were a perfectly tuned clock. The same three rounded scoops of ground Sumatra go into my coffee maker. The same half a pot of coffee sits staying warm as I make my way through each cup. The same 2 scrambled eggs get fluffed and covered with cheese. The half of a bagel gets smeared in cream cheese. The same pills get rationed out. But they aren't the "same" pills, really. It's the pills I've got this month. In the morning I've got my daily preventative, it's only one pill in the morning compared to two at night. But, then there's the tiniest of white pills. They gave me the script for this after my ER visit. I couldn't tell you what it's called and to be honest I couldn't tell you what it does. I thought it may be a decongestant of sorts, but my still highly congested nose begs to differ. Then there's the rounder, harder to swallow white pill. Biotin. The supplement I started taking to

We've all got that one thing that we know will make us be more comfortable, more ourselves. That little something we feel gives us an edge in whatever we're doing. It's that red pair of shoes that'll make us stand out from the crowd because there really isn't a wrong time to wear them, but they certainly aren't expected. It's that lucky pair of socks. It's the green scarf. It's our lucky pen. We want to be comfortable. But, when we've got outside forces controlling a pulsing sensation in our heads, comfort is about as far away as the sun we're desperately trying to avoid. And if you're in my position, reaching for the bottle of pain killers isn't always the right choice. To be completely honest, my pain meds scare me. Every time I get into some trance while I'm on them. Every time I feel myself coming down. Every time the pain sneaks back in. Some days I convince myself that the medication simply wore off and the br

July 3rd. 2017. Probably the last time I had sun-kissed skin. My freckles were out in full swing. My hair was wavy from being out in the pool. I celebrated the 4th a day early this year. I vividly remember my brother coming over and the food being cooked to be ready at 2 PM on the 4th. I remember stumbling down the stairs, looking at my family filled with embarrassment and shame because I knew I needed to leave. I felt the storm that was coming in. I knew my four hour drive back to Clemson was going to be increasingly difficult with every moment that went by. So I packed up my bags, ate what I could, and raced home so I'd be in my bed before the worst of the pain took over. July of 2017 That's the date Social Security determined my disability started. A year and one month prior to recognizing that I couldn't keep pushing and needed to consider disability as a reality. A year and three months prior to when I ever started my application for disability.

Life's made up of moments. Or at least that's the idea. When everything is all said and done those moments will float back through our mind. Certainly makes you stop and think for a second about what kind of moments we hope make it to our highlight reel. Maybe it stops us in our tracks because we open up Instagram only to see everyone else's highlight reel. We forget that their reels are full of moments we'll never understand, and we get stuck in this place where we're convinced that we aren't doing enough, or aren't doing the right things with our lives. Maybe you can pick out those moments that you wish could live on forever, even though there isn't a photo to have captured it and locked it in time. Maybe you've still got some old photo albums laying around full of memories and long lost friends. One of the things I'm striving for this year is to capture those moments. To live in them. So often, I'm so buried in pain or end