For the past 10 years, or so, my neurologists have treated my migraines with the front-line medications in the war on migraines: anti-depressants.

About 2 years ago, my neurologist referred me to a psychiatrist to manage the anti-depressant prescriptions, because he knows more about them than she does. It's a common thing to do with patients who have intractable, daily migraines.

My "shrink" put me through a few different regimens of medications, depending on the side-effects the drugs caused. Oh, that one causes me to have tremors, so I can no longer needlepoint?

Next.

Oh, this one is causing constipation, which happens to be a migraine trigger for me?

Next.

Oh, that one obliterates any interest you have in physical intimacy?

Next.

It's a process, and at times can be a very frustrating one.

And then, back in January, the side effects became overwhelming.

I was the most depressed I'd ever been in my life: I had no desire for intimacy, which caused feelings of guilt; I'd gained 30 pounds since my wedding and hated the way I looked; I felt like my presence on earth was really just a burden to everyone, but particularly to my husband, who had to deal with the brunt of my migraines and their effect on my moods.

It was bad, folks.

As a teenager, I sometimes self-harmed - cutting myself when I was particularly anxious or depressed, because the sight of the blood calmed me, somehow. It was a physical manifestation of what I was feeling. Following my cancer diagnosis, I stopped completely, and hadn't ever had the urge to do it again. Until January of 2018. Fortunately, a card from my niece on the refrigerator declaring "I love you SO SO MUCH!" caught my eye as I made for the knife block, and I turned around and went back to bed, skin intact.

Whenever you see ads for anti-depressants on TV, there's always a disclaimer about how they can, in some patients, cause suicidal thoughts.

Yeah, that disclaimer is aimed at me.

My psychiatrist realized how depressed I was and took me off the drug I'd been taking, without success, for about 6 months, and he gave me another drug to try out. I had an allergic reaction to the new drug, and stopped taking it, meaning that I was 100% off anti-depressants when I went back to see him a month later.

I was an entirely different person: happier, more cheerful in outlook, and able to take a step back from all of the horrible thoughts I'd been having and to realize that things aren't so awful, after all. In fact, they're pretty wonderful, despite the migraines.

My migraines aren't as debilitating as they were while I was on anti-depressants. I still have them, but I'm still able to function to some degree, meaning I can usually still make a healthy dinner for my husband and me despite the migraine.

I've also lost all the weight I gained since meeting my husband, which amounts to about 45 pounds. If I tried on my wedding dress, today, it would probably just fall off.

The last drugs we tried before I quit taking any had weight gain as a side-effect, and without them in my system, I no longer have the urge to eat as many sweets, or to binge on snacks. I'd tried to lose the weight while I was still on anti-depressants, not realizing that it would be nigh on impossible.

So now, we're trying to manage my migraines by being more careful about what I eat and practicing healthier sleeping habits: I wear a sleep mask at night, try to go to sleep at the same time every day, and have an evening "ritual" that I follow, which involves a warm bath, reading, taking melatonin, etc., though we joke that there's a goat slaughtered in there, somewhere, too.

I'm still having more days with migraine than not, but the migraines aren't weighing so heavily on me, now. Add to that the fact that my leather pants fit again, and things are looking up.

Sometimes, the best drug for what ails you is no drug at all.

Homeowners Once More

Dear Husband and I close on a house this Thursday.

I haven't been this stressed in a looooooooong time.

Add to the stress the fact that I've been terrible at eating Paleo - too much indulging in cheese via gluten-free pizza - and I'm having almost daily migraines. It's... rough.

And it's my own damned fault.

Once we've moved into the new house, however, I fully intend to get back to the super-Paleo lifestyle Dear Husband and I led when we first met and began dating. I'm not particularly looking forward to it - cheese is SO delicious! - but my body and my skin will thank me for it.

Particularly as the forehead of 13-year-old Ms. Strainedconsciousness is back in all it's unhappy, oily, bumpy glory.

Ugh.

I've been busy, lately, making purchases for the new house - because those wood floors aren't going to sprout rugs on their own (and I now have a new phobia that will probably haunt my dreams); lining up contractors to tune-up our current house's HVAC system, and doing the same at the new house; arranging for an appliance repairman to come look at our range in the new house (because it doesn't work); scheduling our new roof installation, fence demolition, and fence reconstruction; etcetera.

I feel like all I've done the last two weeks is make phone calls and take the dogs to the vet (Ginger's been a bit gimpy).

After 4 weeks - or possibly more - without a manicure or pedicure, and my feet still wearing the nail polish from that last appointment, I finally was able to do a little self-care, today, in the form of a mani/pedi. Because my doctor cancelled my appointment. Apparently, she was still in surgery, and couldn't leave her unconscious patient for a few minutes to come take care of me. Pshaw.

I'm joking, naturally.

It was fortunate, though, because as I told her scheduler, "This makes my day much less stressful." Despite the fact that I was already in the doctors' office parking lot when she called.

It meant I had time to shoehorn a little foot time into my day. Rescheduling for a month down the road was totally worth it.

I Am Woman*, Hear Me Roar!

*Cavewoman.

Stone age.

Paleolithic.

And full.

My sister and her husband are on something called "The Paleo-Diet." It goes something like this:

Our prehistoric ancestors ate meat and vegetables and nuts. Only after the advent of cultivation (c. 10,000 years ago, give or take) did they begin eating grains and dairy products. 10,000 years is not a heck of a long time in which to evolve a digestive system capable of processing grains and dairy products. Ergo, modern man should eat only very limited quantities of these things.

My mom came home from a visit to see my niece (her grand-daughter) espousing the virtues of the Paleo-Diet.

One of its benefits is the potential to eradicate skin conditions, such as eczema.

A little secret: I have eczema all over my face. And my scalp. And sometimes on the palm of my hand. It is only controlled through constant vigilance! of the type that would make our border patrol proud. Twice daily, I apply one of two creams (one is for daily use, the other is for ohdearGodit'sgettingsplotchy! use), and I also use the lovely Olay Pro blah blah blah: it's a powertool for your face.

In other words, yes, I have glowing skin, but that's only because I have to fight a daily battle with it (and avoid drinking alcohol on a daily basis, or all hell breaks loose... and take Benadryl every night to stave off the allergic reactions that trigger eczema... and only burn scented candles in my apartment when something is really funky, or the airborne odor particles make me break out... etc...).

The possibility of having glowing skin with significantly less worry and hassle is the carrot that has caused me to rid my refrigerator of yummy yummy yogurt, my pantry of macaroni and cheese, and my countertop of cereal boxes. I will trade these delights for a life of buffalo steaks, lean chicken, lots and lots of fish, and more vegetables than you can shake a stick at.

Unless that stick has a hoe or a rake attached to the end of it...

I even read a book about the nutritional wave that's sweeping my family, so once my current supply of Dr. Pepper runs out, I'll be ready to jump in head first.

Right now, I'm wading in the kiddie section.

Granted, I don't have to give up every type of dairy: supposedly, cottage cheese and hard cheeses are okay (parmigiana, manchego, etc...), so my breakfast will most likely be cottage cheese and fruit for a while. And for Level III of the diet, I'm allowed 3 "open" meals per 14-day period (open = grains and/or chocolate milkshakes... er, dairy).

I'm not quite ready to get on board with the book author's suggestion of salmon for breakfast, just yet.

I have my limits, after all, and they stop at leftover fish for breakfast.

Like a Thirteen Year Old

I have not worn foundation (a.k.a. "wet makeup") for a few months, now. I used to use Clinique foundation, until I became hyper-vigilant about my sunscreen and became even paler than I used to be.

I know. I didn't think it was possible, either.

So the lightest shade of makeup manufactured by Clinique was too dark for my porcelain skin. Bear in mind, I'm not the one who originally called my skin "porcelain." No, that comment was first made by a fellow in my sophomore drawing class when he drank a little too much of The Champagne of Beers at a party and started hitting on me.

He failed studio, and I never saw him again, which was a good thing because he also brought to my party - in addition to a 40 of High Life - his 14 year old cousin.

Ahem. Cousin got Coke instead of beer, and the poor kid was scared out of his mind.

Back to make-up!

Sorry, I lost my thread.

So, I have looked and looked for the past few months for a make-up company that manufactures hypoallergenic make-up that either doesn't have sunscreen in it, or that uses all natural ingredients for its sunscreen.

It ain't easy, folks. Almost every hypoallergenic makeup out there includes Parsol 109234798375 in its ingredients, and I'm allergic to Parsol 0934859873428. It makes my skin burn and, eventually, break out in a rash.

After much research, I finally discovered that Fresh Cosmetics manufactures their make-up with all natural ingredients, and their sunscreen is provided by iron oxide and titanium oxide.

Sweet.

I went to their store at Northpark, today and a wonderful makeup artist named Jacob made me absolutely gorgeous.

Yes, I still look like myself. And I still look fresh-faced and glowing, and as if I'm not even wearing foundation (instead of the Noh mask look that Clinique gave me).

I look, as one of his assistants kindly said, like I have the glowing skin of a thirteen year old. And she's kind of right.

I also bought some blush (woohoo!) and a toner/moisturizer/makeup remover. I don't usually use these, but I'll be danged if the stuff didn't make me look uh-mazing even without the makeup.

I glowed. Like a thirteen year old.

I like to think I have better fashion sense than my thirteen year old self, though.