“You wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

Foggy, wrung-out, confused – an insider’s story of migraine 

with Kerry McLeod, our Head of Philanthropy & Engagement 

What is your experience of migraine? 
Migraines are, frankly, a thief. They steal your brain, your focus, your words, your sense of being a competent, functioning human. They even try for your sight. Mine often start with a weird eye twitch, then one eye goes fuzzy, and then it’s game on. I’ve got maybe an hour to take meds, get home (if it’s safe to drive), blackout the room, and try not to vomit on the way. The vomiting is the confirmation that this is going to be a doozy. 

For me, they feel like my brain’s running a faulty electrical circuit, with sparks flying, lights flickering, systems glitching on me. I lose words, my sight goes weird, my thinking gets scrambled. And then the pain arrives like the fuse finally blows. 

The pain is crushing, but it’s everything else that gets me. Noise feels violent. Light is unbearable. Even someone brushing past me can feel like an electric shock. Sometimes I can’t find words or string a sentence together or even stand up straight. And just when it feels like it’s lifting, the migraine hangover kicks in and I’m a 90-year-old zombie, foggy, wrung out, and confused. It’s not pretty. 

How does it impact your life? 
I feel that I go from replying to emails like a vaguely professional manager to an eye-twitching, green-hued, incoherent gremlin clutching my head in about 45 minutes. They can make you feel flaky, unreliable, like you’re letting people down, even though you’re doing everything you can to stay ahead of it. There’s guilt, and frustration, and honestly a bit of grief for the moments and energy you miss out on. You can't plan around it. You just have to ride the wave, whether it’s crashes or creeps up behind you. I’ve missed events, rescheduled meetings, and had to pause things I care about. Because it’s invisible, people often don’t realise how all-encompassing it is unless they’ve lived it. And you wouldn’t wish that on anyone. 

How important is it having colleagues who understand? 
Hugely. I can’t overstate the value. At the Neurological Foundation, people get it. I don’t have to explain or apologise or try to push through when I shouldn’t. That understanding and acknowledgement of how brutal it can be makes it so much easier to rest and recover properly and return when I’m ready, not running on fumes and clenched knuckles. 

I know it’s not like that in every workplace. Having a team that doesn’t need convincing and can swing in to action to help if needed, makes all the difference. It means you recover faster, and you feel less like you’re battling two things: the migraine and the pressure to explain it. I know how lucky I am to work somewhere that doesn’t just talk about brain health. We live it, we respect it, and we support each other and we’re all the stronger and healthier for it.