When I write, the words often flow from my fingertips before I consciously assemble them in my mind. I type and suddenly thoughts I didn’t know I had are splayed across the computer screen. This can be an exciting, almost magical experience. It can also force me to face truths I don’t want to acknowledge.
Even though I felt pretty good migraine-wise last week, something else always seemed more important than writing. It wasn’t until Saturday when I read a novel in which a teenager who was taking a creative writing class was continually surprised by what her writing revealed that I realized I was avoiding something. That truth I didn’t want to see? Ritalin is not the amazing get-your-life-back pill that it was the first week I was on it.
My migraine brain is not impervious to cloudy days. The mental fog has returned. I still have a migraine attack nearly every day. Sometimes I’m so fatigued it feels like sandbags are weighing down my body. I do not pop out of bed raring to go after seven or eight hours of sleep, nor do I go nonstop all day like the Energizer bunny.
While I mourn that lost energy and mental clarity, I also feel like an ungrateful brat. After a month on Ritalin, the pain tops out at a level 4 and I’m fairly productive even though I have to push myself hard to get going. Reducing my highest pain level by a full point and being able to get out of the house more? That’s a migraine preventive triumph.
Except that the losses continue to obscure the wins.