What Winter has Taught Me

This winter has taught me more than I ever thought. It has shown me a new trigger, it has shown me how much I can take before breaking, and it has shown me how strong my husband and I can be when faced with the possibility of something well and truly awful. I think winter is the best season to learn about yourself—it is cold, you are shut in the house with your family, and it provides the perfect time for reflection on what you are going through, dealing with, and moving away from.

It is cold here. Really cold. And for me, the cold makes all of the dealing with migraines worse. Going between warm and cold and warm and cold drives my head nuts. It seems to be a new trigger. Well, I can at least identify it.

The other big thing about winter that gets me is the constant change in pressure. I can feel a snow storm before we have one. It has been an odd winter here, no snow until after the winter holidays. And now it seems that we are having a flurry every day. The pressure yo-yo's and my head starts in. But what I wonder is if there is any way to combat it. I am beginning to think not.

I do know one thing—keeping my house a constant temperature is helping. For some reason, 68 F is the perfect temperature for us. It keeps the birds happy, the kids happy, and my head at least mostly agreeable.

And I find now that more and more I refer to my migraines as something totally separate from who I am. For a long time, I always identified my migraines before myself. One thing this winter has taught me is that who I am is separate from my migraines. It's hard when you are in constant, chronic, almost unbearable pain to separate that from who you are. What happened this winter was some sort of epiphany if you will, a discovery that I am not my pain. My pain is me, but I am not my pain. It was an amazing thing to discover about myself. It has put me at ease with my chosen treatments, it has put me at ease with my dependence on narcotics for comfort. I know that many frown on that, and feel free to disapprove, but remember one thing—you are not me. You do not experience my pain; I do not know yours. What works for one, may very well not work for another. Those realizations have led to me to some sort of peace about my pain.

That is not to say that I am in any way, shape or form no longer in pain. But I have learned to accept my new problems without getting so worked up and making them worse. I have adjusted to the need of a cane. I have adjusted to being less mobile. But I have finally begun to accept it. I think it is a process that all of us go through when we experience chronic pain, a certain acceptance of what we have, and then the realization that we can move forward.

This is what winter has taught me. It taught me that I am stronger than I ever thought, and to watch out for those $^&%* snow flurries. They really do give a new meaning to pain in the neck.