At the beginning of the year, one sufferer wrote
a letter
to her migraine:

Dear Migraine,

Even in 2014, I'm finding it very difficult to "befriend" you, even though I realized again today that you actually mean well. You force me to slow down whenever I've overwhelmed myself again—with people or situations. When I've put others before my own well-being and let myself be "cluttered." Yes, I admit, I always want to "function" and not show any weakness—that's fine—you're right! Couldn't you just make me a little "tougher," take away some of this hypersensitivity?

Yes, I know you mean well, but does it always have to hurt so much and throw me off track like this? This time you're being incredibly "employer-friendly" and coming in on the weekend... I know things have to change this year, and I promise you I'll really work hard to make it happen. But what am I supposed to do? Even though I'm suffering at my job because they've "stigmatized" me for being different and not being as productive as I used to be due to illness, and they're bombarding me with "performance reviews" and wanted to push me into early retirement before I'm even 40, I can't just throw in the towel, can I?

You know, dear Migraine, I work very hard on myself because I know I can't change other people, only myself, and believe me, it's incredibly hard work to constantly motivate myself, to keep reaching out to others. They exclude me, they ignore me, for my employer I'm just a burden – merely "tolerated." They only talk about "duty of care" – in reality, they don't want to do anything for me, as the last few years have repeatedly shown.

You know, dear migraine, I've always fought back, I've always been strong, but it's taken a lot of strength and many tears (I cried them in secret). I didn't let myself be defeated, I didn't give in, even though I was treated like absolute dirt. You know, I don't even want to complain, because I don't know any different from having to fight in life. But couldn't there be a little peace and quiet now? I'm starting to run out of energy... I'm always so exhausted, I can barely get up in the morning anymore, my sleep is terrible despite medication, I'm just not rested. The worry about the future, how much longer I can keep this up, sometimes haunts me, even though I know somehow life always goes on.

You know, dear migraine, I really should be grateful to you somewhere along the line; that's the conclusion of this letter. Because you show me the boundaries I've lost sight of, boundaries I'm no longer even aware of. And what a stroke of luck, what a gift from God! I've also found a fantastic group—a really great bunch on Facebook, too—and I've found so many valuable tips on prevention and how to deal with you. At the end of last year, I was finally able to start doing some endurance sports again, and I'm managing not to let it put any more pressure on me. I'm doing it completely without stress, and I'm noticing it's doing me good; it's a great balance to everything else. My mind clears, and my thoughts aren't racing—there's finally some peace, and you, dear migraine, finally get a break. You see, I'm being caring—even to you. That's why I'm giving you and my mind some peace today, because you've got me firmly in your grip again.

The bottom line is that even you, dear migraine, have something good about you amidst all the bad – you're like a stop sign, a warning signal – the red light like a traffic light indicating "STOP – THAT WAS TOO MUCH." So, even from this painful situation, I'm trying to draw a positive conclusion – thank you for your care. My bed is calling, and so is the dark room.

Thanks for everything, you're not as stupid as I thought.
Your head