A few mornings ago, I was sipping coffee and taking care of bills online when I noticed a large sum deposited into my checking account. My foggy brain dismissed it as a banking mistake and I went on with my day. Hours later it hit me that the deposit had the abbreviation “Soc Sec” next to it . I had been approved for disability and was awarded back pay!
Can I get disability for chronic migraines?
I applied for Social Security Disability Insurance (SSDI) four months ago and was not optimistic. I was not expecting to get news so quickly, and I was really not expecting to be approved. The lady from my local Social Security office told me that it would take at least 6 months for me to get an initial answer. The horror stories I came across online told me that the initial answer would most likely be a refusal. Only 30-35% of applicants are approved on the first try, and the appeals process can take years.
Getting disability for my condition, chronic migraines, is tough. Every migraine sufferer knows all too well how disabling migraines can be. On top of the severe head pain, migraines bring a lot of fun symptoms like nausea, vomiting, light sensitivity, sound sensitivity, vertigo, cognitive impairment, and many, many more. Even so, the Social Security Administration does not include chronic migraines on the list of conditions automatically awarded benefits.
Why, then, was I approved so quickly?
I’m sure luck had something to do it, but I also did my research and worked hard to ensure that my application included everything the Disability Determination Office requires for an approval.
I came across Jennifer Martin’s article, The 7 Psychological Stages of Chronic Pain, on a particularly bad day. After a couple promising streaks of good days this summer, I have fallen into a solid three weeks string of bad migraine days. I haven’t seen any of my friends, I canceled a freelance job, I canceled my vacation plans; in short, I’ve become a migraine hermit in my dark cave glued to my ice packs.
Anyone with chronic pain knows that pain has cumulative effects on your body and soul. Day after day of pain can wears you down physically and emotionally. The emotional roller coaster that chronic pain patients experience can be just as difficult to manage and just as exhausting as the pain itself.
My personal roller coaster brings me to Stage 4: Depression and Anxiety every time I have a migraine for longer than 72 hours. A point in Jennifer Martin’s article really resonates with me, and I want to shout it from the rooftops for all of my fellow chronic pain sufferers to hear:
“It is important to understand that this depression is not a sign of mental illness. It is the appropriate response to a loss or a life-altering situation.”
– Jennifer Martin, PsyD
Of course, there is absolutely nothing wrong with experiencing depression as a mental illness. I have struggled with it as have many others with chronic illness. BUT experiencing depression with chronic pain is a completely normal and healthy part of the grieving process. Chronic pain transforms our lives so completely and takes so much from us – careers, relationships, hobbies, vibrancy – that it is only natural that we grieve what we have lost.
Today, my grief is taking the form of tears. On most days I look to audiobooks or Netflix to distract me from my grief, but not today. Thinking positively is not going to make this migraine go away, so I am giving myself permission to cry and cry and cry. I’ve earned it.
Like most chronic pain patients, I can tell you the exact date and time that divided my life into two segments: Before Pain and After Pain. There was no dramatic moment, no accident or violent event; I simply woke up three days after my 24th birthday with a migraine aura. The aura turned into an intractable migraine that I would spend the next two years (and counting) trying to defeat.
My boyfriend Eric and I had recently moved into a tent cabin in Yosemite National Park where we would spend the summer as park rangers.
Our new home had a splintery wooden floor and canvas roof that billowed and breathed with the wind. We had no internet, no TV, and no attached bathroom. (During extra cold nights we implemented a “pee bucket” to spare ourselves the chilly walk to the bathroom). Our bed was two paper thin mattresses that we pushed together and piled high with memory foam. It was rustic to the point of shabbiness, and I loved every inch of it.