Cluster headaches are often described as the most excruciating pain known to medical science. They are sometimes referred to as “suicide headaches” due to the sheer intensity of the attacks, which leave sufferers in a state of desperation. Unlike migraines, cluster headaches come in cycles, attacking relentlessly at the same time each day, sometimes for weeks or months at a time. They feel like a searing, icepick-like pain boring into the skull, often behind one eye. The intensity is so overwhelming that most sufferers are unable to sit still, pacing, rocking, or even banging their heads against walls to distract from the agony.
How Cluster Headaches Feel: A Collection of Descriptions
To truly grasp the horror of cluster headaches, let’s examine how those who endure them describe the experience:
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“Imagine an ice pick being driven into your eye socket repeatedly with no mercy.”
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“It feels like a red-hot poker being stabbed into my brain through my eye.”
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“It’s like someone has reached inside my skull, grabbed my optic nerve, and is twisting it with all their strength.”
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“It’s as if my eye is about to explode, but instead, it stays intact just to prolong the torture.”
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“The pain is so bad that I can’t even scream—it just takes over my entire existence.”
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“It’s like my head is being crushed in a vise, but only on one side.”
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“It feels like my eye is being ripped out of my skull with a rusty spoon.”
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“A demon is stabbing my brain repeatedly, and there’s no way to make it stop.”
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“It’s like being struck by lightning again and again, but only inside my head.”
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“A barbed wire is wrapped around my temple, being pulled tighter with every passing second.”
The sheer intensity of the pain is beyond comparison. Even kidney stones, childbirth, or severe burns have been ranked lower in terms of perceived pain intensity by those who have experienced both.
The Never-Ending Nightmare
For me, the attacks never stop abruptly. There’s no moment where the pain just disappears; it either fades or ramps up into a crescendo of suffering. There is no release, no respite. The only relief is when an attack finally starts to dissipate, but by then, my body is exhausted, my mind shattered, and I am left in a state of numb relief—until the next attack strikes.
When I don’t have an attack, I live my life as normally as possible. I don’t dwell on them. I don’t let them define me. But when they come, they consume everything.
Absolute Fear, Despair, and the Feeling of Hell
My cluster headaches do not just bring pain—they bring absolute fear and despair. During attacks, I feel like I am in Hell. There is no escape, no hope, only suffering. The feeling is accompanied by an unbearable ‘nauseous heat’ that radiates through my skull, adding another layer of torment.
The pain itself is a metallic, searing agony, often localized to one side of my head. It feels unnatural, as though something inside my skull is being burned, twisted, and crushed all at once.
During the worst attacks, I scream uncontrollably. It is not something I can suppress; the pain demands an outlet. I have screamed so hard that my neighbors have called an ambulance. My vocal cords feel raw and damaged afterward, but in the moment, none of that matters—all I can think about is surviving the attack.
Merely describing these experiences is enough to trigger an anxiety attack. It feels like severe PTSD, a lingering trauma that never truly fades because I know another attack is always coming.
The Hallucinations: Shadows in the Darkness
Now, here’s where it gets truly strange.
For some inexplicable reason, my cluster headaches behave differently depending on light conditions. Bright sunlight seems to prevent the hallucinations. However, in the dark, in enclosed spaces, or at night, the attacks come with an eerie twist—hallucinations.
It starts subtly—shadowy figures in the periphery of my vision, just at the edges, slipping away when I turn my head. But when the pain peaks, these hallucinations become detailed and active. They interact. They acknowledge my presence.
They move toward me, lean in, wave their hands, testing whether I can see them. They do not speak, and I cannot hear them. I only see them.
The most extreme case happened in a hospital, during one of the worst attacks I have ever experienced. I saw a man in a full motorcycle suit—except half of his body had been scraped open as if he had skidded across pavement at high speed. His dark red suit was torn, exposing ribs, muscle, and blood. Half of his face was missing, but he did not react as if he was injured. He simply existed, moving as if nothing was wrong.
Despite my overwhelming fear and distress, the experience was surreal—like something straight out of a horror movie, yet with a bizarre sense of detachment, as if I were merely an observer rather than a participant.
I must say, I do not often fully remember these hallucinations afterward. My mind seems to cancel out these experiences—unless I find myself describing them to nurses in a hospital. Medical professionals help in managing the fear and the neurological origins of the strange experiences. However, when describing the particular occurrence of that specific motorcycle accident hallucination… one nurse was visibly uncomfortable with the description, as if it wasn’t entirely a hallucination.
When I left the hospital after the attack, I got spooky stares from security, and they were discussing something of pressing yet distressing relevance between themselves.
Then the memory somehow lingers. The worst of these experiences were truly visceral and cadaverous.
Hallucinations, of course, but part of me can’t help but wonder.
Managing the Attacks: A Desperate Battle
I can generally, though not always, curtail the attacks with a mix of verapamil, Imigran injections, and sometimes oxygen therapy. However, the worst attacks are relentless. There are times when I require multiple Imigran injections in quick succession—sometimes exceeding six injections in a 24-hour period just to keep the pain at bay.
And yes, I have been close to suicide—by any means possible—during these attacks. When the pain reaches an unbearable peak, when I feel like I am burning alive from the inside, there is no rational thought left. There is only the instinct to end the suffering, no matter the cost.
Cluster Headaches and Suicide: A Deadly Connection
Studies show that people with cluster headaches are at significantly higher risk of suicide. Some reports suggest that up to 55% of cluster headache sufferers have had suicidal thoughts during attacks, and as many as 20% have attempted suicide. This is why they are called “suicide headaches”—the pain is so extreme that people genuinely see death as the only escape.
Living with the Shadows
I do not seek sympathy. I live my life as best as I can between attacks, making the most of the moments when my head is not a battlefield. But when the pain comes, I endure. And in the darkness, I see things that should not be there.
I am normally a very scientific-minded person, and in everyday life, I know these are images generated by a mind trying to make sense of extreme pain. But when an attack strikes and overwhelms me, I tend to get the hell into a brightly lit spot, because what I see in a darkened bedroom can sometimes be too horrific to describe.
Of course, this isn’t real.
Or is it?