It occurred to me the other day that whenever we experience an event for the FIRST TIME, there is the potential for our hearts and minds to “learn” from how that event unfolded and assume that this is the “normal” way such an event ALWAYS unfolds… that we might accidentally turn that one-time into a symbol of every time… we might turn the particulars of that first occurrence into something almost mythical… a “foundation story” of sorts, which inadvertently gains weight and becomes a center of gravity for what comes next…
I can still remember my first migraine, and all the drama that went with it, and I’m starting to think that, (unfortunately), how that situation unfolded had the potential to set in place some of the negative narratives that I have attached to my migraine ever since…
*
I was 11 years old and going on my first overnight school excursion. It required us to get up early and meet at the school at the crack of dawn. I was beyond excited; very keen to visit our nation’s capital and see the buildings of parliament, and not at all concerned about leaving my family behind for two days (I knew they’d be fine without me!)
We were less than an hour into a 3 or 4-hour trip when my head began to throb, and my stomach felt queasy. I told a teacher that I didn’t feel well, and she replied, “it’s probably home-sickness”. I nodded, but I wasn’t convinced – I knew I wasn’t homesick.
Some time later, I was throwing up in a bag and everyone around me was doing the obligatory squealing and complaining about how gross I was. The teachers seemed disappointed in my lack of composure and moved me to the seat behind the mortified driver so I could keep my eye on the road. “It’s probably travel sickness,” they said. I nodded, but I wasn’t convinced – this felt different to anything I had experienced before.
By the time we reached our destination, I recall being almost comatose with pain. The teachers debated what to do with me. It was obvious that I was a massive inconvenience and I was causing their plans for the trip to unravel. In the end, it was agreed that the bus driver would look after me while I slept on the long back seat. “Maybe she has a bug,” I heard the adults discussing, “or she’s pretending”. I don’t remember anything of what happened next, other than I slept the whole day away, my hands wrapped over my head.
That night I was moved into one of the teacher’s rooms so she could keep an eye on me; “you’ll be fine by tomorrow”. The tone of voice this time was unmistakable; “enough is enough”.
The next day, I was still sick. I remember the bitter disappointment mingled with the agony; I had wanted to be on this excursion so much, and now I was going to miss everything. I have no memory whatsoever of where I was ‘left’ for that second day, who drew the short straw to be my supervisor, or any details of the trip home…
When the bus eventually pulled up at our school, my mother was there to pick me up. I remember her putting me to bed and telling me that I had probably had my first migraine. I vaguely remember her seeming sad about the news… it had the grim fatalism of a life sentence… or a deadly diagnosis. Then I remember wet washcloths put on my forehead and across my eyes, patted hair, soft condolences, and more sleep.
*
When I think back to that time 40 years ago, there’s a lot of vagueness about the details… I’m not 100% sure, for example, that they really did leave me all day with the bus driver… but I know for sure that I did NOT go on a tour around the parliamentary buildings, and I know FOR SURE how sad I was to have missed the whole thing.
What does come through loud and clear, however, are the feelings; I’m gross, a nuisance, a burden, an inconvenience… I don’t remember people showing me care, concern, empathy, sympathy, compassion… I’m not saying it wasn’t there… but I am saying I don’t remember it if it was.
What also comes through are some more troubling thoughts; the adults didn’t seem to believe me when I said I was sick, they were quick and lazy to mis-label my situation, they questioned my integrity when they thought I was exaggerating… there was a massive dose of naivety on their behalf, if I’m kind… and gaslighting or situational avoidance if I’m not…
I’m no psychologist, so I have no way of knowing to what extent this event classifies as a ‘trauma’ or how much it really did affect my migraine story moving forward.
What I do know, however, is that 40 years on, I still remember my first migraine, and I know that my migraines ALWAYS make me feel like an inconvenient nuisance.
Of course, I know I’m not… but those voices from when I was 11 are still there… adults huffy-puffy-sighing… and children whispering “ewww gross”.
Take care, carefully, Linda x
PS – For whatever reason, after that first migraine, I didn’t have another for over a decade, and the ones that I did have in my 20s were random events, usually triggered by sudden bright lights, extreme hunger, or really loud noises… very obvious moments that I could point to and say; that’s to blame. For that first migraine, I’m guessing that as excited as I was to go on the excursion, maybe there was an element of motion sickness, or lack of sleep from the night before, but maybe I was also anxious…. the little girl that I was DID look a little anxious – the photo I posted last Halloween now looks less Wednesday Adams and more ‘deer in the headlights’ / ‘get me out of here’ when I look back at it:
I guess I’ll never know for sure – but I do know that I have a bad tendency of watching my daughters and second-guessing myself whether ‘this’ might be the trigger that starts the ball rolling for them… so far, they have had no migraines… fingers crossed, they never do… but if they do… I’ll be ready, with care and compassion… and not a single huffy-puffy-yuk. xx
The Mindful Migraine 
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