Don’t Call Me a Wid0w – Part 14

My name is Karen, and I am a widow

Migraines and Widowhood

I’ve lived with migraines since my college days, having my first attack at 19. Back then, doctors believed they were triggered by an overactive thyroid. Over the years I went through thyroid surgery, swung between hyper- and hypothyroid, and saw more neurologists and pain specialists than I can count. Eventually the diagnosis shifted to mixed‑symptom migraines—fueled by stress, tension, and the way my body holds itself.

I’ve spent decades in and out of therapy, OT, and PT, weaving many of those tools into my daily routine. And still, when the pain hits, it slows me down. Even after fifty-plus years, it scares me.

When Rich was alive, he couldn’t take the pain away, but his presence helped me breathe through the worst of it. Just knowing he was nearby softened the edges. Now, when the migraines come—as they did yesterday and through the night—I face them alone. I kept repeating my mantra, this too shall pass, until I finally crawled out of bed around 5:30 a.m., hooked up my TENS unit, and took an Imitrex. Two hours later, the fog began to lift.

Today I’m choosing to move more slowly. I rescheduled an appointment so I could give myself the space I clearly need.

Stress is a strange companion. Sometimes we can feel its electric charge running through us; other times it hides until our bodies reveal it for us. When I mentioned to one of my sons that stress was attacking my nervous system, he asked, “What are you stressed about?” My first instinct was to say nothing. But the truth is everything—even when I think I’m handling it. Stress accumulates quietly, and for those of us who live with chronic conditions, it can cloud our mood, our memory, and our sense of stability.

I’ve worked through migraines that left me temporarily blind. I’ve pushed through days when the pain tried to dictate my life. But pushing too hard often leads to relapse, which is why today I’m choosing to be proactive instead of stubborn.

Being a widow—a word I still wish had a gentler sound—means reminding myself daily that I can do hard things. Rich taught me that. From the beginning, he pushed me to trust my own resilience. When I asked him a question, he’d nudge me to find the answer myself, even when I desperately wanted him to just fix the problem. He knew I needed to build confidence, not dependency. That loving guidance still echoes in me.

So, this morning, as I sat in my rocker with my TENS unit humming, coffee in hand, and a Housewives show playing in the background, I felt the tension slowly releasing. But I also sensed that doing too much too soon would backfire. Since I am the one responsible for my own well‑being now, giving myself a day of reduced responsibility isn’t indulgent—it’s necessary. Today, I am my own client, and I’m prescribing rest.

Chronic pain and grief are intertwined. Unresolved grief creates biological stress, and in my body that stress shows up as migraines and neuropathy. I’m learning to recognize this connection and to build new tools that make life gentler and less painful.

If you notice shifts in your mood or behavior, pause. Check in with yourself. Trace the discomfort back to its source. Become your own detective. Together, we can learn to reduce the stress that fuels our pain.

Please join me on my journey

#YesICan Coaching with Karen
Email: Kh.yesican1@gmail.com