My Headaches are Trying to Tell Me Something

So... I’ve had a headache every day for the past three weeks. It’s been rough. The kind that keeps you up at night, drains your energy, and makes it hard to function. Eventually, the pain started radiating into my ears — one even swelled up, bright red and inflamed. I tried everything. Daily Advil, rotating in Tylenol and Aleve. Heating pad. Stretching. A massage helped for about a day, and then the headache came right back that night.

Drawing mandalas is one way that I reduce my anxiety.

I finally went to the doctor. The verdict?

A tension headache — caused by an extreme amount of tightness in my neck and upper back. Not exactly surprising. I’ve struggled with neck and upper back pain for over ten years, with flare-ups that seem to happen for no obvious reason. But this time, the pain was too bad to ignore.

My doctor prescribed a new muscle relaxer that supposedly wouldn’t turn me into a zombie. I took it for the first time last night, and let me tell you — whoa. The range of motion in my body today feels unreal. I can move my arms and neck and even my legs in ways I haven’t been able to in a long time. The pain is still there a little bit, but everything feels looser. And with that release came a massive realization:

This pain is being caused by... me.

I won’t go into the full story today, but I have a history of trauma. And what I’ve come to understand is that my nervous system is stuck in a constant state of fight or flight. It’s what helped me survive in the past, but now it’s keeping me locked in a state of hypervigilance — preparing for a battle that never comes. That energy has to go somewhere, and for me, it’s gone straight into my muscles. My neck. My back. My head.

As the title of the bestselling book by Bessel van der Kolk says: The Body Keeps the Score. Mine definitely has.

Something has to change.

I need to shift how I’m living if I don't want to spend the rest of my life in pain. I’ve come a long way over the past ten years. I’ve used art to express my experiences, to tap into flow states, and to manage anxiety. It’s helped, no doubt. But clearly, it’s not enough — as my headaches and back pain keep reminding me.

So, I’m starting something new. I’m going to use this blog to track what’s working — and what’s not — in this next stage of healing. A personal experiment in managing post-traumatic stress and turning it into post-traumatic growth.

I’ve identified four key areas I’ll be exploring:

• Mindfulness – breathwork, meditation, and nervous system regulation

• Nutrition – reducing inflammation and learning what fuels vs. agitates me

• Exercise – gentle, consistent movement like stretching, yoga, and walking

• Detox – letting go of what no longer serves me: toxic energy, clutter, overstimulation

  
  

My highly imperfect tulip painting in oil. Perfection is never the goal.

And of course, art will be with me the whole way. Art has been a liberator. It’s where I lose myself, where anxiety fades, where time slows down. During those blessed hours when I’m painting, all my insecurities and stress take a back seat. The only problem I’m trying to solve is how to make my painting more beautiful.

I have a lot of thoughts on why art is so helpful in healing — and what it takes for it to truly support post-traumatic growth. I’ll be sharing those ideas, too.

So here it is: the beginning of something new. A journey of healing. A story of how Sarah (that’s me!) conquers her post-traumatic stress… one mindful moment, one brushstroke at a time.

If you’re on a similar journey, or if your body’s been holding onto things your mind is just starting to understand, I’d love to hear from you. Let’s figure this out together.