I'm so sorry, melindas. Daily chronic migraine is every foul word and can be so much more than an constant unwelcome pain. It has the ability of tearing what feels like the very fabric of your life and sense of self. It can also feel like hoperless stabs in the dark looking for doctors that listen, treatment that makes a dent, and people willing to not only believe what you say, but meet you where you are as we struggle to figure out where we are.
It seems like folks with daily chronic migraine carry extra guilt for never really feeling better. It can seem like a personal failure if we aren't constantly seeking amd trying a new treatment or showing progress in prevention, let alone trying to live and manage daily life.. It can feel even worse to stop and grieve for the changes that the disease brings.
I've had so many bleak days trying to redefine my sense of self and purpose while trying to cope with the pain. I hope you don't feel like a failure for it. And I hope you find a system that makes the day to day more bearable.
There are three times a day that mentally strike me harder than most: getting out of bed, trying to fall asleep at night, and mid-afternoon (especially when it is hot) with the anxiety and sinking feeling that I've "wasted the day". Awareness of those times mixed with some acceptance to ride oit the emotion sometimes helps a lot. But othertimes the migraine gets the best of me, especially when I feel like I have some momentum (mental or physical) and my body says otherwise, so the migraine prevails.
Some smart, wise person supposedly said that to survive with your sense of love for self and humanity intact (I'd probably just say sanity or hope), we have to come to terms with the "guests" we keep. So, probably from a mix of craziness, desperation, and a hint of acceptamce, I've tried to emotionally allow space for my "migraine guest" because after two years of constant compainionship, she doesn't seem to be leaving anytime soon, even though I'm trying to nudge her out the door.
I'm glad you exist.