Geowalkabout

There are days when language fails.

Migraine does that—it steals clarity, steals time, steals the version of me that feels whole. Everyone who’s lived inside its grip knows: there are no words vast enough to describe how it reshapes your life.

Today, I can’t see clearly. My body feels like a fogged mirror. Emgality and Relpax are working quietly beneath the surface, doing their best to hold back the tide. But even with their help, I’m not fully here. Not fully functional. Not fully me.

They say it might shift after menopause, but at fifty, that threshold hasn’t arrived. I wait in the in-between, wondering if relief will ever come. Wondering if I’ll ever wake up without the weight behind my eyes, without the ache that hums through my bones.

I long for strength in sisterhood—women who understand, who carry their own invisible weights. But even sisters are stretched thin, just like me. We’re all trying to make it through the day, one breath at a time. One small act of grace. One whispered prayer.

So this weekend, I will take my son and we will go chasing waterfalls.

We’ll follow the sound of rushing water, let it drown out the ache.

We’ll walk into the wild, into the cool hush of moss and stone.

We’ll let nature hold us—just for a while.

Because even in pain, there is beauty.

Even in fog, there is movement.

Even in struggle, there is love.

I will share what we find.

Not just the waterfalls, but the fragments of peace.

The glimmers of joy.

The moments that remind me: I am still here.

Still a mother. Still a seeker. Still worthy of wonder.

“Inside the storm: where neurons misfire and silence becomes sacred. A migraine isn’t just pain—it’s the body’s cry for stillness, for dim light, for deep listening.”

What Happens in the Body During a Migraine Attack

https://www.everydayhealth.com/outside-in/what-happens-body-during-migraine/