A couple of years ago I wrote a post entitled Where migraines end and I begin:

It’s difficult to explain what it’s like to have a migraine to someone who has never had one. They’re whole-body experiences and, although people often point to the crushing headaches, it’s actually impossible to separate them out as a distinct ‘event’. They come at you like waves, gentle at first, but increasing in ferocity.

A migraine, I’ve learned, is my body’s way of telling me to take my foot off the accelerator pedal. Otherwise, it quietly threatens, it will apply the handbrake no matter how fast I’m going.

I’ve come to know the warning signs: chewing my fingernails, loss of muscle tone, mood swings. These signs usually happen 24-36 hours before. And depending on how I respond, the migraine can be relatively mild, not much more than a persistent headache that painkillers can’t shift, or it can be cataclysmic.


I pride myself on my speed of work, with a lot of this down to the singular focus I can maintain when standing or sitting at the desk in my home office. For example, I can count on the fingers of one hand the times over the last year when I’ve been working at less than 95%.

But this comes at a cost, and yesterday, after the Moodle drama, the pandemic, a local planning application I’m helping organise against, and the daily grind of seeing no-one other than your close family, my body decided I could do with some time out.

So last night I slept and wrote and slept and wrote and read. Then this morning, after a single meeting with my webcam turned off, I went to the beach for a couple of hours without my family. I’m feeling a lot better.


So my conclusion to all this? Well I guess it’s the platitudinous exhortation to ‘self-care’. You and you only know your limits, how you feel, and what’s a priority at any given moment. Ensure your life mask is in place before helping others.


This post is day five of my #100DaysToOffload challenge. Want to get involved? Find out more at 100daystooffload.com


Header image by Ryan Johnston of the covered bridge going over to Glasgow Exhibition Centre. I’ve crossed this many times going to and from the Scottish Learning Festival.