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Migraines and Dating: What It’s Wish to Date Someone Who Cares

“Now I understand.”

Those were the 4 magic words my then-boyfriend told me. We only lived together for a number of weeks before I got an enormous grade 10 migraine. I looked like death. i liked it too. I cried in bed, holding a chilly, wet washcloth over my brow and eyes, attempting to force the sun to return down from the sky, the earth to spin, my brain to rebel against me. Me, the one who often endures pain like a chilly, immobile statue. Now sobbing into our quilt.

He’d never seen it before. Up to that time he had only heard about my migraines from my very own descriptions. When we began dating, I felt extremely terrible and needed to cancel plans. “I’m sick,” I said, feeling like a corpse.

“Oh, what happened?” he asked with concern.

“I actually have a migraine.” I could barely get the words out, I used to be to this point within the migraine hole. All communication skills were washed away when the dam burst.

“Oh… that is an odd method to describe it. That you might be sick. He didn’t understand why I used that word. Why would I describe it the identical way you’ll say you’ve a chilly or flu. To him, it was probably just a elaborate way of claiming I had a headache.

I let it go at the moment. I did not have much energy to clarify when most of my brain was so focused on the pain.

But now, having just moved in together, he could see the sickness in my face. I looked pale. All the sunshine and happiness drained from my eyes. I used to be respiration heavily, sobbing. I used to be nauseous and sensitive to light and sound. Even to the untrained eye, it was clear that it wasn’t “only a headache.” It was more. It was monumental. And unfortunately, it was routine. While this was my first level 10 migraine while living together, it definitely would not be my last.

He saw me that day and eventually knew. “Now I understand,” he said, handing me a glass of water and filling a big bowl of ice water that I kept by my bed to refresh my head rag.

got it. Not just that day, but any canceled plan after that. Each time my world stopped resulting from a neurological disorder I had no control over. This was what it felt prefer to be with someone who understood and cared about what I used to be going through. In the three years we lived together, he refilled my ice water, massaged the back of my neck each time the strain got dangerously near triggering a full-blown migraine, kept the apartment quiet while I suffered alone in our darkened bedroom. Although it could not have been the fairy-tale living conditions we had imagined, it brought us closer together.

It’s hard to seek out individuals who truly understand struggle in the event that they have not experienced migraines themselves. Even the family may not understand it. But finding a partner who understands means being really seen.

He set a precedent. He is the ruler by whom I measure all present and future romantic prospects. As someone with a chronic illness, I can not accept anything lower than a loving and accepting partner. And neither must you.

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