I have always hated the dark. When I was a very young child, I thought it was full of monsters and the unknown. By the time I was 9 years old, I had another reason to hate the dark: It's where I had to go when I had a migraine.
My first attack happened in fourth grade. I was sitting in front of a computer, learning about the basics of Excel spreadsheets, when parts of my vision suddenly vanished. I tried to keep going with the lesson, hoping my eyesight would return, but with each second of compromised vision, I felt my panic build. When I told my teacher I couldn't see, she encouraged me to finish the lesson and go to the nurse afterward. I squinted and moved my head around to see if I could piece together what was in front of me and compensate for the parts of my vision I had lost. When my teacher walked me to the nurse's office, I was in tears.
That was the start of a painful and scary journey. I was eventually diagnosed with migraine with aura (a sensory disturbance that can include temporary vision problems). Initially, I'd have a migraine once a month; then they began occurring weekly and, ultimately, several times a week. Then the anxiety started as I anticipated seeing an aura and having to lie alone in a dark room where I vomited and felt like my head was about to explode. I was known as a student who often had to leave school early, spend weekends at home, and ration her energy so exhaustion wouldn't trigger a migraine.
For years I tried everything—special diets, stress management, medications—and researched the best self-care regimens to limit attacks. Thanks to managing stress through dance, exercising without overexerting myself, and sticking to a consistent sleep schedule, I haven't had a migraine in almost a year, but every time I see a bright light or feel slightly off, I fear the attacks will come back stronger than ever.
Throughout the pain and missed events, I've had a community of supporters. My family has taken care of me, tried to find remedies, and cried with me. My friends, teachers, and coaches helped with schoolwork, kept the lights low, and regularly checked on me. Even Cookie, my Maltese shih tzu, could tell when something was wrong and would sit next to me the whole time. I am so grateful for how much everyone tried, cared, and learned.
When I felt alone in that pitch-black room, my community switched on a light to help me find my way out. That support fuels my dreams of becoming a neurologist. I want to help others with migraine and illuminate their way forward. I'm no longer afraid of the dark, but I keep a flashlight close by, just in case.
Rachel Shon is a junior at the University of California, Berkeley, where she’s studying neurobiology and psychology. She maintains the blog and Instagram page Brains and Migraines.
