Taking It Lightly

Somewhere along the way, I decided migraine and I were at war, and every single day was a battle to win or lose. It took me years to notice how exhausting that framing was, and how little it actually helped. The pain was the same either way. My suffering about the pain was optional.

This book is about the lighter path I found instead — not denial, not pretending it doesn’t hurt, but a genuine taking it less seriously. It means carrying it with open hands instead of a clenched jaw. For years, I treated every migraine as an enemy combatant, every symptom as an attack to repel.

It’s an understandable framing — the pain feels like an assault, so fighting it feels natural. But wars have casualties, and mine was my own peace, spent daily on a battle that pain never actually loses just because I fought harder. The pain was the same either way.

My suffering about the pain was the part I actually had some say over. not pretending you’re fine when you’re not, it’s not skipping doctors or real treatment, and it’s not putting on a brave face that hides real pain from people who could help. Lightness is something quieter — releasing the extra weight of resentment, drama, and resistance that piles on top of the symptom itself.

Heavy versus light, in practice Heavy: ‘Why is this happening to me again, this always ruins everything.’ Light: ‘This is happening again. Let’s take care of it and keep going.’ Heavy: treating every episode as proof your whole life is falling apart. Light: treating it as one difficult hour inside an otherwise full life.

Heavy: silence and isolation. Light: a text to a friend, even a funny one, about how absurd the whole thing is. There is real, healing humor available in this condition if you’re willing to look for it: the drama of closing every curtain in the house like you’re preparing for a vampire’s visit, the specific betrayal of a floater appearing at the worst possible moment, the family member who insists their one weird remedy is the answer to everything.

Finding these moments funny doesn’t disrespect how hard the condition is. It just refuses to let the hard parts be the only parts. Both things can be true in the very same afternoon. The most absurd or oddly funny thing that’s happened to me because of migraine… One heavy thought I keep carrying that I could try setting down this week…

Here’s a small physical practice that captures the whole idea: literally opening your hands, palms up, as a gesture of releasing the grip. Sit comfortably. Turn your palms upward, resting on your legs. Breathe in: ‘I am allowed to hold this lightly.’ Breathe out, and as you do, let your fingers relax completely open.

Notice: an open hand can still hold something. It just isn’t gripping it until it hurts. Sit for a few more breaths with your hands open, letting that be true of your whole day too. A short list of phrases I return to, spoken gently, usually more than once a day.

‘I can take this seriously and lightly at the same time.’ ‘This hour is hard. My whole life is not.’ ‘I am healing, even on the days it doesn’t look like it.’ ‘I release what I cannot control, and tend gently to what I can.’ something bigger On the days lightness feels impossible to find on your own, it’s alright to hand the heaviest parts over — to prayer, to meditation, to whatever higher power steadies you. You don’t have to carry all of it, all the time, entirely by yourself.

You are allowed to put some of it down and trust that it’s held anyway. seriously. It’s carrying something real with open hands instead of a clenched jaw, so the weight doesn’t crush the rest of your life along with it. May you find more open-handed days than clenched ones, and more laughter along the way than you expected to find in a book about migraine.

Next in the series: Nature as Medicine — healing walks and outdoor meditations, adapted for a sensitive nervous system. homework. After years of treating his own migraine like a war to win, he found something gentler worked better: gratitude, salt air, slow walks, and a quiet, steady faith in something bigger holding it all together.

He didn’t beat migraine into submission. He made peace with it on a beach towel, and the peace turned out to be the stronger medicine. He writes short, refreshing guides meant to be read with your toes in the sand or your feet up after a long day — meditations, gratitude practices, and gentle nudges to take your condition as lightly as it will let you.

He is not a doctor, a guru, or a guarantee. He’s just someone who found the beach helps, and wanted you to have a map to find your own version of it. Want the whole journey? Times — the full story, with every practice, every episode, and every lesson in one place.

The Identity Series — on reclaiming yourself from the condition: Person on the Horizon Movement & Parenting — by Sarah J.S.: Hormones & Migraine — also by Sarah J.S.: Caregiving & the Sandwich Generation — by Steven Albert K.S.: Your Aging Parent About Their Migraine Healing & Lightness — by Jake R.