When the Body Finally Stops Running – My Migraines Explained

Here’s the rhythm most of us live in:
We push. We perform. We stay on.
Our days become whirlwinds, our calendars full of “just get through this week.”
Adrenaline and cortisol rise, and the body — wise as it is — shifts into emergency mode.
Immune and inflammatory activity quiet down to keep us functional.
Your body whispers:

“I’ll deal with this later.”

And later comes.
When the exam ends.
When the deadline passes.
When the vacation finally begins.

That’s when cortisol drops — and the immune system wakes up like a cleaning crew that’s been waiting for the storm to end.
It starts clearing the debris: inflammation, latent viruses, cellular waste.
And what does that feel like?
Fatigue. Congestion. Aches.
Or, in my case — a blinding, pulsing migraine.

Not a virus.
Not weakness.
Just healing catching up.

The body isn’t punishing you — it’s repairing you

For years, I thought rest was supposed to make me feel better.
Instead, it made me feel worse.
And that confused, frightened part of me always wondered, “What’s wrong with me?”

But the truth is: nothing was wrong.
I had simply reached that point of depletion where my body had to choose — keep sprinting or start repairing.

When cortisol and adrenaline are high, immune repair is impossible.
When cortisol drops, repair rushes in.
It’s not burnout; it’s biology trying to balance itself after too much running on empty.

And chronic stress?
It burns through magnesium, sodium, and potassium — the very minerals that help regulate our nervous system and prevent migraines.
The more depleted I was, the more violently my body tried to restore balance.
That’s why, over time, recovery stopped being a weekend thing.
It took days, then weeks.
Because healing had more and more ground to cover.

From earning my rest to earning my stress

There’s a line in Ashley’s post that I can’t stop thinking about:

“Stop thinking of your life in terms of earning your rest.
Start thinking of it in terms of earning your stress.”

It’s so simple.
And so revolutionary.

For years, I lived by the idea that rest had to be deserved.
That I could stop only after I’d done enough, achieved enough, survived enough.
But that mindset only kept me trapped in the same cycle: pushing, crashing, recovering, repeating.

Now, I try to ask myself something different:
How much stress have I earned today?
If I’ve already spent all my energy navigating deadlines, caregiving, expectations, noise — maybe the most courageous thing I can do next is nothing.

Because doing nothing isn’t laziness.
It’s maintenance.
It’s the sacred pause where the body rebuilds itself quietly, molecule by molecule.

Listening instead of fighting

Migraines have been my teacher for twenty-four years.
They have taught me humility, boundaries, and the quiet art of listening inward.
They arrive when I’ve ignored the whispers for too long.
They force me to unplug, dim the lights, and surrender to the truth:

“You can’t heal while sprinting.”

So now, when that familiar pulse begins, I no longer curse it.
I light a candle, close my eyes, and whisper back:

“Okay. I’m listening. Let’s repair.”

A softer kind of resilience

Modern life doesn’t allow us to live like monks.
We can’t meditate for hours or move to a cabin in the woods (though sometimes I dream of it).
But we can learn to live cyclically — to recognize when we’re sprinting and when it’s time to stop.

Resilience isn’t pushing through.
It’s knowing when to pause.
It’s nourishing yourself — with minerals, food, sleep, sunlight, and peace — before your body begs for them.

So if you crash every time you slow down,
please know this:
You’re not broken.
You’re healing.
And that’s the body’s most beautiful rebellion of all.