The migraine nobody could see

I've lost count of the birthdays, the weddings, the ordinary Tuesdays that migraine stole. The pain is invisible, so the doubt is loud. 'Did you take something?' 'Are you sure it's that bad?' I'm sure. I've been sure for fifteen years. What changed wasn't the pain. It was finding other people who flinch at the same fluorescent lights, who know the particular dread of an aura creeping in. Community didn't cure me. It made the invisible witnessed. That's its own kind of medicine.