The time I kind of deliberately got a migraine

A couple of weeks ago on a Friday night, I gave myself a migraine. Kind of on purpose. It was screwed up and in bad judgment but I deliberately asked for it.

You see, one of my dear friends died unexpectedly on January 18th. Craig was just 48 and, though I’d known him for years (he’s one of my boyfriend’s best friends), I’d gotten to know him a lot better in recent months since he was our most recently hired Avid bookseller. I am speaking at his memorial service in February and can’t even get it together to write that speech yet, so I’ll spare you the many, many pages I could write about how wonderful this guy was. So instead I’ll just take you into my crazy, addled mind that day.

It turns out that, if others around me are kind of freaking out, I go into organizational overdrive. We went to our friends’ house shortly after hearing the news of Craig’s death, and I felt antsy, trying to do anything and everything to organize and help out. I laid out the delicious food someone else had graciously purchased, and I bustled around and cleaned up. I tried to avoid thinking of Craig, though it was impossible, as tens of friends shuffled through the house, crying and hugging each other.

By the time the night rolled around, I was starting to break a little bit. We were downtown with the same group of friends, alternating between tears and periods of utter disbelief. The stress of the day had taken its toll and I felt a migraine slowly coming on. I’d forgotten my meds at home.

Instead of treating myself gently, I had a drink. And another. ( And no, I’m not going to add “and another, and another…”: someone who drinks as rarely as I do only needs two to get tipsy.) I knew it’d make my migraine worse, and I just didn’t care. I almost WANTED a migraine. I wanted my physical pain to match my emotional anguish, or at least that’s how I am phrasing it now as I write. At the time, I wasn’t sure what my motivation was, but I sure did drink on purpose and knew full well a migraine would be in my near future.

Have you ever experienced this? Am I totally crazy? I look back now (I’m writing this just two weeks after that fateful day) and wonder what in the WORLD I was thinking. So the best I can imagine is that I was so sad and hurt that I wanted to just make my physical pain match my psychic pain. And no, I don’t plan on doing this again. (That’s a nice way of saying I’ve already beat myself up about this, so please do refrain from yelling at how dumb I am! J )

Has anyone ever gone through something similar? I’d truly love to read any and all responses.

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