April Worst

April 2018:

I'll be honest with you, April was just the worst. Since September 2017 I have been training to become a Barrister within the legal system of England and Wales. Over the course of nine months I slaved (along with thousands of other Bar students) through thousands of pages of Criminal and Civil Litigation, Professional Ethics, Advocacy, Written skills, Conference skills and Judicial Review. This time last year I was due to be finishing my Bar exams. When I started things in my life were kind of just ticking along. Yes I had chronic migraines but they seemed under control and I was thrilled to be taking the next steps in my professional life. By February-March however, chronic migraines had taken over my life. I was permanently tired, in pain, stressed and anxious.

Chronic Migraines are defined as three or more migraines a week. I was routinely having five+ migraines a week. At the time of my bar exams I had had 21 migrainous days IN A ROW. None of the multiplicity of medications I had been prescribed by my various specialists had done anything. Actually, that's a lie. They HAD done something - a host of different side effects that meant that by the end of each course of medication not only were my migraines no better (in many occasions they were significantly worse) but I had gained an enormous amount of weight, had blood pressure so low that I frequently fainted just from standing up, was losing my hair and had crippling eczema (something I have never experienced) from head to toe. The weight gain brought on a serious depressive dip meaning that I spent most of my time in bed (whether from migraines or depression) which just helped to drop my mood lower and lower.

I want to just take a moment to express that it was not the weight itself that made my mood low, it was the loss of control over my life. Exercise and eating well had become my new normal, my comfort zones. Long gone were the days where I tucked in to a three pack of Krispy Kremes when I had had a bad day. I went for a walk/ run/ yoga/ ballet/ whatever, returned an hour or so later with a clear head and a fresh perspective. Gaining the weight back made exercise that much harder, the beta blockers I was on for my head made my exercise less effective and the associated low blood pressure problems meant that I was literally a ticking time bomb. I would leave each session with my PT Heather and would be sick, or have to sit in my car for half an hour at least to bring my blood pressure up enough to feel safe driving the seven minutes home. My migraines also meant that if I did ANY form of even remotely cardiovascular exercise my head would pound, I would have a migraine fog for 24-36 hours AFTER the proper migraine passed and during that time I was just useless. All of that meant that slowly, so slowly it was barely perceptible, I went from exercising in some form or another every day a week to being all but completely sedentary. The loss of control over my own life was terrifying.

Which brings us back to April and my Bar exams. Exam number 1, Drafting: I woke up in the morning, felt the now far too common pre-migraine, lay in my bed fearful of moving and wept. There was no way on the gods green earth that I was going to be able to do my exam. I tried getting up maybe an hour later, just to see if 'maybe if I eat something it'll go away?' Of course I knew it would not go away. Once it starts there is no stopping it and once I start thinking about how to get it to go away the more I worry and the more I fulfil the migrainous prophecy. I texted my mum (who was downstairs) saying that there was no way it was happening and I would have to apply for mitigating circumstances and defer until August. Neither of us were especially happy about this as we both knew that the sooner I got these high stress exams out of my way the sooner I could recover but we also knew that it was what had to happen. What followed over the next three weeks was a repetition of this morning, over and over. Some kind of unholy Groundhog's day. Let me tell you all, a migraine is no fun. A THREE WEEK migraine is enough to drive even the most well reasoned person to the verge of insanity.

I duly completed my forms, got the necessary medical support and waited for the confirmation. The wait was agonising - 'what if they don't grant my application?', 'what if it didn't arrive in time?!', 'what if I've fucked my chances of my chosen career?!?!' etcetera etcetera etcetera. When the confirmation emails arrived I cried with relief. I told myself I would be ready next time and I started planning my revision timetable anew, seeing a therapist, exploring different avenues and engaging in various homeopathic complementary therapies. Anything that might help. Hell I even got a specific part of my ear pierced in the hopes that it would help (more on this later).

As April ended I cried and railed against the world and hurt all over. I seriously questioned whether my life was worth living daily. This scared me. As a suicidal teenager I had told myself that the world would be better off without me. That I was a burden. That how I felt would never get better. As an adult who had come out on the other side I knew all of that not to be true. But being faced with chronic pain I had the same question go through my head time and again 'What if I am never free of pain again?' I wanted the world to stop. I wanted to be sedated so that maybe I'd have a moment's peace. I thought about ending my life not because I wanted to die but rather because I felt like I was no longer living. Even writing that feels pathetic. I know that there are countless individuals who do suffer and have suffered far far worse than I do but I have come to realise in the last year that suffering should not be a competition. I have found so much support from people who have suffered and have been able to be a support to others myself. In a perverse way, suffering is one of the things that brings people together. It is in the heart of suffering that we find our compassion.

As I close off this post I just want to send a message to anyone experiencing any kind of chronic or hidden illness. I see you. We see you. Your pain, your suffering, is acknowledged. I know how frustrating it is having people say 'oh but you look fine to me'. I know what it is to feel like you're an imposter for saying 'I'm not well' or to feel like you're taking up your doctor's time with a 'fake' illness because perhaps there's physiologically nothing wrong with you or the medical community is still unsure as to whether certain illnesses are 'real'. You know your body better than anyone else. Never let someone convince you otherwise. If something feels wrong you have to advocate for what your body needs whether by doing your research or asking for second or third opinions or simply exploring an alternative. The process of being heard is rarely fun; it can take a lot of time and energy, but when you find someone who DOES believe you and tries to find a workable solution, all that stress will have been worth it if for no other reason than someone else trusts what your body is telling you. Finally, it is vital that you do all you can to care for your mental health as well. There's no point pushing yourself to the breaking point trying to treat your physical health when that is detrimental to your mental health. I can't say that looking after my mental health sooner would have meant that I would have felt physically better sooner or at all, but caring for your mental health is a goal in and of itself and carries its own rewards.