If you’re a chronic migraine sufferer, I’m sure you’ve heard of this by now: The daith piercing.
It’s rumored to work similarly to acupuncture. Supposedly, the spot on your ear where you get the daith piercing is a pressure point for headaches/migraines.
Keep in mind, this is all word-of-mouth. There haven’t really been studies on the daith piercing as of yet that determines whether or not it actually works.
From what I can tell, there seems to be a pretty even split: Doctors saying it doesn’t have a scientific basis for working, and migraine sufferers saying it has helped them.
I get migraines anywhere from once a week to once a month. The pain is excruciating, and you really can’t do anything sometimes. I spent my last Friday night falling asleep at 5:30 p.m., as soon as I got home from work, because I couldn’t do anything else. My usual cure for a migraine is medicine and a nap. Just one or the other usually won’t work. Something about the medicine+sleep formula seems magic. Unfortunately, you lose the hours that you sleep and likely the hours leading up to the sleep when the migraine was starting.
So when I heard about the daith piercing, I was intrigued. Could something as simple as a piercing help me suffer from fewer migraines?
I’m still considering whether or not to get a daith piercing, but right now my mentality is this: Why not? The only real downfall is some people say it can take up to a year to heal. But Body Piercing magazine‘s website puts that number at only 3 to 6 months. If it doesn’t work, at least you haven’t spent a bunch of money. Body Piercing Magazine also states most reputable piercers will only charge $40 to $50, though I’m sure the cost varies based on the cost of living in your city.
So now I speak to those of you who have had a daith piercing. Does it work? Or is it just another myth? Comment below and let me know!
I shouldn’t be this sad. I know I shouldn’t be. Alan Rickman was an actor. I didn’t know him personally. I never met him. He’s just an actor in a series that I loved.
But I can’t help but be devastated today at the news Alan Rickman died. Because he may be just an actor, but he played such an important role to me.
I’ve loved Harry Potter since I was 9 — for 15 years, now. I started reading it while my grandmother was dying from cancer. It was an escape. It helped me feel happy when I was sad.
And I was so young. Harry Potter was a huge part of my childhood. And it’s still a huge part of my adult life. Because it’s what made me fall in love with reading — which is a huge part of who I am. Because it was the first series I fell deeply in love with.
So seeing someone who was such an important part of the franchise die? It hurts. Because he’s more than just an actor. He’s a part of my life, even if I wasn’t part of his. He brought a hugely important character from a hugely important (to me) series to life. He is part of the franchise that shaped me.
He’s not just another actor. So, I’m sad.
It’s time to turn my life around in more ways than one. There are some things about my life I absolute love and would not change. For example, in regards to my love life, I’ve never been happier. I don’t believe in people being perfect, but I do believe in people being perfect for each other, and that’s just what my boyfriend is to me. So I’m incredibly happy in that regard.
But there are some things I could be happier about. So starting now, I am making some changes.
In my professional life
I love writing. I love writing so much. And I don’t really get to do it anymore. But anyone who knows me well knows I want to write a novel. (Or a bunch of novels.) So it’s time to do that. It’s time to buckle down and get that novel written. Luckily for me, November is the time of NaNoWriMo. If you don’t know what that is, it’s where you write 50,000 words in a month. It’s tough. I’ve “participated” for several years, and I’ve never won. I fizzle out after a few thousand words. But I’m sick of having a non-answer for when people ask me when I’m going to write my novel. So this year, I’m buckling down. (If you’re a fellow NaNo-er, add me as a writing buddy and make sure I hit my word count!)
50 by 25
Today is November 1, meaning it’s my half birthday. I am 6 months away from turning 25. I’ve been telling myself for a while I need to turn my fitness around. But I’ve done nothing to it. So I’m giving myself a new challenge. 50 by 25. I’m going to lose 50 pounds by the time I’m 25.
It’s a big number. But I’m a big girl. So really, it shouldn’t be that unattainable for me. I just need to make some serious diet and exercise changes. But I need to do it. Not for anyone else. But for me.
You’re just like a politician, always making promises you can’t keep.
“I know you’re not happy the way things are. But don’t worry. I’m going to make a change. Just stick with me. It’s going to get better.”
I do. And it doesn’t.
You speak of changes like the word means something to you.
“Things will change. I promise.”
You don’t even know what a promise is.
Lies. It’s all lies you tell to keep me hanging on, hanging around.
If I just hold on, it will all be OK. It will change. It will get better.
Weeks turn into months. Months turn into years. There’s no change. You promised me change.
Like a lost puppy dog, I follow you blindly. I do what you ask. I don’t complain. I believe in you.
I sit quiet, hopeful that one day the change will come.
I’m still waiting.
My arms hurt. For as long as I can remember I’ve been doing the same thing.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
My hands fumble with the bottle, pouring shampoo into my hand. I raise my hands to my head.
My hands travel ferociously across my scalp. I tilt my head back, the cool water hitting me.
I pick up the bottle again.
I pour shampoo into my hand, and lift my hands to my head.
Why am I doing this?
My hands continue to move as my brain fights against the repetitive actions. As I tilt my head back into the stream of water once more.
And that’s when I notice them. The strings. Pulling my hands toward the bottle.
The grips on each finger forcing me to pour the shampoo into my hands. The strings then tugging my arms upward toward my hair.
The strap jerking my head backward to force my head into the water.
I’m stuck in a never-ending cycle of nonsense.
Am I sad? What do you want me to say? If I say no, I’ll look heartless. And it would be a lie.
But do I say yes? Saying yes brings on the pity. The “awwwww”s. The sad looks. And I don’t want that, either.
Am I sad? Am I sad that the two people I see more often than almost anyone else are moving 10 hours away? The people I spend the drive to work with, spend the work day talking to, and ride home from work with? The people who live right across the hall, who between work and living in the same place I see almost every single day? Who I have worked with for years between college and professional life? Who I pet sit for, and who pet sit for me? Who I’ve often hung out with, both going places or just ordering pizza and watching TV and movies? The people whose wedding I was just in two months ago?
Why would I be sad about that?