I used to think that my biggest writing hurdle would be time. Or motivation. Or, you know, that creeping existential dread that sometimes claws its way out of the back of my brain when I stare at a blank page for too long. But no. Turns out, my worst enemy is my own nervous system.
Let’s talk about migraines.
I don’t get the cute ones. Not the “oof, I need a nap” kind. I get the freight train barreling through my skull, light-shattering, nausea-drenched horror movie migraines. The kind that start with a flicker in the corner of my vision and end with me curled up in a ball, feeling like I can hear the individual electrons in my lightbulbs buzzing.
Unfortunately, writing—a thing I love, a thing that literally makes up my livelihood—was triggering these monsters more than I wanted to admit. So I had to start making changes.
1. Dark Mode is the Devil
Everyone and their tech-savvy grandma loves dark mode. It’s supposed to be easier on the eyes, right? Not mine. Dark mode leaves those damn letters burned into my retinas like some Lovecraftian sigil, summoning the auras and setting off the whole migraine parade. Instead, I keep my screen in light mode, but not at blinding, ice-pick-in-the-cortex brightness. Warm-toned, middle-ground settings have become my best friend.
2. No Bare Bulbs, Ever
You know that one exposed Edison bulb aesthetic? The moody, industrial chic lighting? Yeah, that’s a hard no for me. I can’t have a naked bulb anywhere in my field of vision unless I want my brain to implode like a dying star. Every light in my house is covered, diffused, or angled away from me. If I walk into a room and see an exposed bulb, I become a vampire, shielding my eyes and hissing while I find the nearest lamp shade like my life depends on it.
3. The Sound of Silence (But Not Too Much)
Post-migraine, my head is a war zone. My nerves are raw, my skull feels bruised from the inside, and every noise—from the clicking of my keyboard to the hum of my fridge—is a personal attack. Enter: my over-ear headphones. Not for music. Not for white noise. Just for buffering. They block just enough sound to keep me from wanting to stab out my own eyes but let in enough ambient noise that I don’t feel like I’m trapped in an isolation chamber. It’s a delicate balance, but it helps.
The Trade-Off
I don’t get to write exactly the way I used to. Gone are the days of staring into a black void of dark mode at 2 AM, basking in the glow of a single evil desk lamp while blasting music. Now, I work under warm, diffused lighting, on a screen that doesn’t scorch my optic nerves, in the soft, weird half-silence of my headphones. And you know what? It’s better. It’s manageable.
Migraines took a lot from me, but I refuse to let them take my words.
