My Improvement is Not a Miracle
“If I believed in miracles, this would qualify as one.” I wrote that last week in reference to how much better I felt on Tolerex. It’s been bugging me ever since.
A miracle arrives out of the blue and is conferred by an outside force, some otherworldly or supernatural being. My improvement is not a miracle. It is a direct result of what *I* did, not the whimsy of some outside agent.
I’m the one who pored over articles from medical journals. I’m the one who has sifted through the highly unreliable information on histamine that’s available online, trying to differentiate fact from anecdote. I’m the one who created a spreadsheet and has logged every food I’ve tested. I’m the one who chose to give up real food to see if that would make me feel better. I. Did. This.
You know that I’m far more prone to self-criticism than self-congratulations, that I’ve adopted the criticism of the people who doubt the severity of my illness and my efforts to overcome it. Not this time.
It took going to extreme measures, but I can finally see how hard I’ve fought (and continue fighting) to try to reduce my migraine frequency and severity. Only a desperate, dedicated person would give up food (FOOD!) in an attempt to feel better.
My improvement is no miracle. It’s the result of not just a couple months or years of effort, but of 12 years of slogging through the days, attempting one unsuccessful treatment after another, and picking myself up and trying yet another avenue again to find relief.
So, yeah, I’m proud of myself. I think I deserve to be. I *finally* think I deserve to applaud my tremendous effort. This long, painful journey is nowhere close to over. But it’s far easier to move forward now that I can see myself as the courageous warrior my loved ones have been telling me I am.