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For the Reality TV Rage That Burns Within Me


Well I held off as long as I could. No really I did. Sure there were a handful of tweets but mostly I was trying to not get swept up in the emotions that lie at the corner of chronic and invisible illnesses. I was trying to prevent becoming my own migraine trigger which is a pain the ass. But now I am over it. The more I read online and hear from other people who do not have a clue what they are talking about, let alone in jest has made my blood boil. So I write this now for me as a way to get it off my chest and hopefully educate those who want to do better.

I really try to avoid these feelings at all costs. To avoid upsetting myself I try to breathe and let it go but enough is enough. Once I crack the vault open and allow the rage to flow I fear it may never retreat back to its hiding place. Living in that angry, hurt, mindset is not a place I can function in for long. I have to get myself back on track which can take a minute. I have to feel it to release it.

This is why I do not like writing about my illness in blogs that do not fall into that topic but it affects me and my life in more than one way so there is no avoiding it. I am working extra hard to remind myself of this when I come across people like Lisa Rinna on the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills (RHOBH).



I have been watching that city version of the show since the first episode aired because I liked Camille Grammar who is not currently a series regular. I watch it for the distraction of a good Bravo show when you are doing things that need your attention. These aren’t a bunch of rocket scientists talking so I don’t need to see every single second. It’s really for background noise and to see what new animal Lisa Vanderpump has added to her menagerie. Meanwhile in my next life I want to come back as one of her miniature ponies.

But this season opened a whole new can of worms. It sucked all the fun out of me and apparently the women they are filming. They seem to forget that their life of privilege can all go away with the blink of an eye. Health isn’t something that is normally controlled by money alone so I hope for their sake they grow on up and count their lucky stars. They don’t have the stamina in their spirit to be strong enough to be chronically ill. As my friend Barbara would say, “God Willing”, they will never have to find out.

This all began at the end of last season when Yolanda Hadid, formerly Foster, as in married to David Foster musical genius, started to share her medical journey with the world. Prior to this she was the gorgeous Dutch woman, former supermodel; with two beautiful daughters who are now pursuing that vocation very successfully (she also has a son). These children were from her previous marriage to Mohammed Hadid who we have seen on the RHOBH as well.

Yolanda suffers from Lyme Disease and I think the name is half of the problem. It doesn’t sound like what it is: an infection in your brain leading to taking enormous amounts of antibiotics to treat. This is of course worsened if it has gone undiagnosed or misdiagnosed for some years and have a body that can’t handle the treatment for long period of time. It does more than rob you of feeling good; it robs you of feeling human. You aren’t able to move really or take care of yourself. Speaking is perhaps the hardest part of this disease. Since it is your brain that is affected so too is your train of thought, memory, and ability to string words together. As a chronic migraine sufferer I know the feeling and it sucks. I also love someone who suffers from this disease, which prevents us from regularly contact. Trust me it is no picnic.


I am not only a fellow sufferer of some of the same symptoms but worse another victim of a so-called invisible illnesses. It certainly doesn’t feel like its invisible but it must be because short of gushing blood out of my broken brain no one seems to have a clue how bad I am feeling even on a “good” day or even after I say “I am in agony”. It just crickets until I break the silence. That simple fact is enough to bring up some rage. From there is just builds.

Despite the handful of people in my life that have a real clue how I am doing still will never get it. They never had this illness so to a large extent it is not their fault. But bless their hearts they think there are good and bad days. Not so. Everyday has some sort of challenge and days go from bad to someone please put a bullet in my head to end it all. This usually happens at four a.m. when I have been up for over a day and have not managed to break the pain cycle. That is also the time I get to watch myself extra close some how to make sure I am not suffering a stroke. I mean between the very large FAKE spiders I see all around me and the ability not to be touched, not even on my hair, blinding pain, and exhaustion, this is what I have to worry about. Add in the fact that I am the only one awake in my house and the only one who has seen every episode of “The New Adventures of Old Christine” and you are starting to get to the tip of the iceberg. I will stop there because I don’t think you can handle the rest. I certainly do not feel like reliving it at this moment in time. I know those types of days and nights remains in my future- another crushing blow for those of us with chronic illnesses and chronic pain. The truly ironic part is that right when we are at our weakest, sickest, dilapidated version, we are actually the strongest. There are people who for sure suffer worse things but there are quite a many more who could handle living a day in our shoes, let alone a really hard day. I try to remember that around five a.m. when I am begging heaven to grant me some mercy.



Most of the time I am able to speak calmly and intelligently about my illness trying to educate those who ask how I am doing and really mean it. But if I am three words in and I have lost your attention I don’t continue on. My time and breathe are extra precious. But if you really want to know I will tell you absolutely everything about my journey. It is mine but I will share to inform, help, and respective the many millions of fellow migraine patients out there. Like my neurologist would say; “I have a neurological disorder and the migraine is the symptom.” Still I feel like if I had diabetes no one rational would say “don’t take insulin, just wish your disease away.” The contest for the stupidest suggestions is wide open. The winner changes daily. If I had any extra strength I would have become green, tear off my shirt like the Hulk, and pound them into the ground within an inch of their life. Instead I walk away and visualize what that would feel like.

Yolanda is a person of privilege so she was able to travel the world for treatments desperate to regain her brain and life back. For this she gets ridiculed for posting on Instagram pictures of her out and about on a good day and then on another day a photo of her in bed. Hell it could even be later the same day. This I know all too well. This is the worst part. My mother use to tell me “if I didn’t have something nice to say to refrain from saying anything at all”, clearly not a lesson I learn. But I will say this “if you do not suffer of what you speak, shut the fuck up”!!!! You can quote me on that. I think I will print that on some t-shirts to pass out with that phrase. Minding your business when all you have to do is get Botox for recreational use and worry how over pumped your lips are is what is filling up your days. Try getting forty-one shots in your head, neck, and shoulders every three months just so that WHEN you get a migraine your pain pills will actually stop it in its tracks. That is of course aside from the twenty or so preventive pills I take every morning. And I am a lucky one. There are so many other chronic migraine patients that haven’t found what works for them yet. To them I say hold on, I pray help is coming soon, you know if we ever get any money from the government to pursue research and drugs that are actually for migraines, as none currently exists.

Here is a tidbit of what prompted this:

“The challenge with chronic head pain is that it is invisible.  If you tell people you really hurt, then you are complaining.  We are disbelieved simply because we are women, and dismissed as having a “women’s disease.”  If we don’t tell people about our pain, then we are responsible for them not understanding we have a debilitating condition. The physical hurts are unyielding.  The pain.  The numbness.  The weakness.  The dizziness.  The nausea. Yet the psychic hurts can feel much worse.  We are faking it.  We should take Tylenol and then be all better.  We must be doing something wrong.  “I used to have that and I did x, y and z, and I’m all better.”  It’s insulting and infuriating."
even worse: He is happy on-camera, all 
For the full story click the links below. There will also find my previous migraine related blogs to explain more about my condition and my story.



I guess I did have a few things to get off my chest after all. I wish I could say it to David Foster’s face and those that agree with him. Sadly he will never really get it and even as mad as I am now I wouldn’t wish a chronic illness on him. I just wish he knew what a gift compassion would be for his ex-wife, even after they separated. It is not like anyone hopes this happens to them and it is certainly not their fault when the life you plan gets changed on you. That’s life. But unfortunately not everyone has to live in the real world. Instead he was just talking out of his ass proving what an ugly man he is on the inside.

As my dear Phaedra Parks (from the Real Housewives of Atlanta) would say; “Fix It Jesus”!!

I will add to that; God Speed.

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