WellBeing reader Gift Mbay shares how he eased chronic migraines using herbs, acupressure, breathwork and stress regulation.
I still remember the morning I awoke to a migraine so fierce it felt like my skull was splitting open. It had been building quietly overnight – a dull pressure behind my eyes — and then it erupted into blinding intensity.
Light became a razor, sound a cacophony and every breath sent shockwaves through my temples. I collapsed onto the cool tile floor, praying for relief.
For more than a decade, that kind of suffering dictated my existence: missed gatherings, abandoned plans and the constant shadow of dread.
Prescription medications offered temporary reprieve, but their benefits came at a hidden cost. Grogginess clouded my mornings and rebound headaches arrived like uninvited guests when the drugs wore off.
I felt trapped in a never-ending cycle of symptom relief and side effects, each pill bringing its own toll. It was clear that treating migraines as mere inconveniences wasn’t enough.
I wanted a solution that strengthened my body, honoured its rhythms and restored a sense of agency.
Herbal allies
My journey toward sustainable relief began in a small, sunlit apothecary tucked away in the historic quarter of my city. There, I discovered two plants long celebrated for their healing powers: feverfew and butterbur.
Modern research confirmed what herbalists had known for centuries — feverfew’s parthenolide compounds help calm neurovascular inflammation, while butterbur’s petasin elements help stabilise blood vessel walls and soothe nerve endings.
Instead of buying capsules, I chose to become my own apothecary.
Each Saturday morning, I measured organic, lab-certified feverfew leaves into a glass jar, poured in high-proof vodka and sealed it. Over two weeks, the mixture transformed from clear to a warm amber, capturing the essence of the plant.
Meanwhile, I brewed butterbur tea in a ceramic pot, letting its earthy steam fill my kitchen before sipping each cup by candlelight. The ritual grounded me, turning a clinical process into a meditative practice.
Within three weeks, the savage spikes in my pain softened. By six weeks, the attacks were half as frequent.
Acupressure sequences
While herbs laid the foundation, acupressure became my frontline defence.
Early one afternoon, as I felt the first flutter of discomfort — a faint ache behind my brow — I paused, closed my eyes and applied steady pressure to the webbing between my thumb and index finger.
Sixty seconds later, the tension eased, and I moved to the base of my skull, massaging in small, circular motions until the knots in my neck unraveled. Finally, I pressed gently into my temples, kneading out lingering tightness.
As I refined the practice, I added two more points: a soft press behind each earlobe and a firm hold on the inside of my wrist. The full sequence took less than five minutes but often stopped a migraine in its tracks.
Whether on a crowded subway, in a hushed conference room or at home before bed, these simple gestures reclaimed power from pain.
Month by month, the routine reduced both the severity and frequency of my attacks, granting me precious windows of pain-free living.
Breathwork resets
Stress and migraines share a toxic bond. To calm the storm within, I embraced breathwork grounded in vagal nerve stimulation research.
Each dawn, I sat upright on my meditation cushion, closed my eyes and inhaled deeply through my nose for four counts, held the breath for two, then exhaled through pursed lips for six counts.
Over three minutes, the rhythm of my breath slowed my heart rate, relaxed my muscles and created a palpable sense of calm.
On high-tension days — when deadlines loomed or relationships frayed — I practised box breathing: four counts inhale, hold for four, exhale for four, hold for four.
In virtual group sessions led by a certified instructor, I learned to tether the breath with gentle neck stretches and ambient music, deepening its effect.
These intentional breath resets rewired my stress response, transforming potential migraine triggers into manageable blips on the radar.
Progress tracking
Healing rarely follows a straight path. To decode my patterns, I kept a detailed journal —