Kroger Wars

I started working at Kroger in the summer of 03. I was excited to be working there. I had agreed to pay half my college tuition so having a job after high school was important. This job seemed to be a good fit. I was going to be a full time college student who had a part time job to help pay for school. It seemed reasonable. I was getting enough hours to help with tuition, but not so many hours that I didn't have time for school work. They agreed to be flexiable with my schedule.
When I intereviewed for the job I had been seizure free for almost year so I didn't mention my eplipsey. Besides according to state law I didn't have to mention it and if the employer were to ask questions about my health it would've been illegal. One thing I did do was research on if I had to say anything about my eplipsey before I applied anywhere.
On my first day I wore a med. bracelet and that is when they found out. This was in the days my parents were determined to get me to wear a med bracelet or necklace. I've always found the things hideous and hated wearing them. I had a tendency to play with them till they broke and after they broke I always hoped they wouldn't be replaced. I didn't like advertising I had a health problem on a piece of jewlery. So the braclet I wore that day was my fifth or sixth one and this one had lasted longer than others because it had a stretch band making it much harder to break. Which meant about 50 percent of the time I "forgot" to put it on or I took it off when my parents weren't around.
In this case I forgot I was wearing it and a manager asked me about it. I told them what it was for and after I told them it wasn't a big deal. That it had been a long time since anything happened they seemed fine and we proceeded.
The job was simple enough. I was working in the non foods department. Which meant I stocked items in the store that weren't considered food. Like the shampoo aisle, pharmacy, or light bulbs. The few things we stocked that were for eating was the candy and baby food.
When I first started I worked at Ticketmaster and only stocked if they really needed my help. After maybe a year Ticketmaster became part of customer service and I was stocking all the time.  I had seizures after being hired within my first year or so but they weren't at the store. So it wasn't a big deal.
I did eventually have one at the store and of course they were required to call 911. They also called my parents. They handled the situation beautifully and I went home early that day and crashed.
When I went back to work no one really made a big deal. Which made me happy. I did give them a letter eventually telling about my condition and what to do. They needed it for my file. After that everything was fine. My first couple years were fine. The work wasn't exciting, but it was work. I made a fair amount of friends and recieved good scores at employee review time.

A few years down the line all the managers I started out with had either transferred elsewhere or been promoted. Their had been a number throughout the years but they were usually really good about respecting department heads and how they schedule and manage their employees. None of them really had a problem with my eplipsey. Not even when I had to miss several months of work because I was so toxic on medication it was a challenge just to stand. My neurologist actually wrote them a letter explaining everything. Basically saying we were having trouble finding the right mixture of medication and to please be patient. That at the moment I wasn't able to work but would return when things became more stable.

Eventually a batch of managers came in that weren't as tolerant about health issues and had plans to change everything. The worst thing was they didn't respect each other's areas. They were constantly going to departments they weren't in charge of and knew nothing about and telling us do something the wrong way only to have the department head have us tear everything down when finished and do it right. The rate of how fast we worked decreased becasue everyone was confused. One person would tell someone to do something and another would tell them to do something that contradicted the other thing. It was like they weren't on the same page and more concerned about marking territory.

Eventually I had a very small partial seizure at the store. I was concious , shaking , and lost control of my emotions. They handled everything fine, but when I returned things changed.
There was a steep decrease in my hours. Such a big decrease that I lost health coverage for a few months.
Then everyonce in a while they would give me over thirty hours. So I could work anything from 4 hrs a week to 30 hrs a week.
On top of that if there were three managers in the store they all would give me conflicting jobs to do. They would have me do it drastically different from anyone else in the store. I was told to do things in a way that  would take 3 times as long as the other way.
It wasn't a surprise that my performance went down. I was so busy trying to figure what I was supposed to do I usually didn't get much done. Then on a few occasions when I would be working in close proximity to a manger they would say things like "Are you sure you should have a job? Won't that make your health worse?"
I began to go home and try and list five reasons to keep working at Kroger. I was becoming miserable and depressed. Not to mention stressed from trying to force happiness at work while I was actually just doing my best not to look angry. I began to have horrible nightmares every night and I felt like I was stuck in hell. That somehow hell had been brought to me for some reason and I couldn't fathom why.
I wanted out but was told that I couldn't quit because I had health insurance through kroger and it would be stupid to quit.
Everytime I had a seizure or my meds weren't quite right they would drop hours or tell me to do something wrong. The head of my department figured out was going on and eventually told me to just do things the way she said and only worry about what she said. So I would do what she said and do what the managers wanted when they were around. I felt like I had to be two people at work.
Eventually though I just couldn't handle the hell of work and my eplipsey at the same time. It was to much. Even with help from God it was to much. I finally decided to go to Cleveland Clinic to see if I was eligable for surgery. (more on that in another post)
When I finished Cleveland Clinic I became stable. The problem was I was miserable at work. I had been unable to find a job with my degree because of lack of experience. Not to mention that kind of work was just to boring for me. I wanted to do something I would enjoy.
Eventually everything came down to one night. By this time I had recently met my future husband Anthony on line. Things seemed to be going well. Things were starting to look up. The problem was there was just one thing I hated in my life and I didn't see a way out.
A way out was offered to me. I went to work one day and began my shift.  The assistant head department gave me a list of things to do and asked me to work overtime at the same time. I said okay to the list of things, but no to overtime because I had an obligation after work. I didn't say it in a way that was clear and didn't realize I wasn't clear. So I clocked out at the scheduled time. Twenty minutes later I received a phone call from Kroger. They told me I had to finish the overtime or it was considered an automatic quit. I couldn't go back I had somewhere to be so I told them I guess it's an automatic quit. Said thank you and hung up.
In retro spect now that I know where it happened I am to blame for not giving a clear answer. Had I known I was unclear I would have clarified things with the asst. dept. head before I left. I was ecstatic when I quit. For the first time I felt truly free to pursue a future I would be happy with. I would be able to do so without worrying about seizures.

College Woes

When I finished high school I was relieved, but at the same time not quite ready. Things I'd been told by teachers at school had me convinced that if I waited to go to college I would be a life long loser and would never make anything of myself. I wasn't really feeling ready to go to college. My seizures weren't under control, I couldn't drive, and I hadn't taken any sats or acts, but I felt like I had no choice.
I applied at a college that I knew I could get into and not have to leave home. I chose Davis College because it was a safe choice. The way things were going medically leaving home for college wasn't really an option. When we went to get information and I got a catalog with majors I still had no idea what I wanted to major in.
I chose not on what interested me, but what would be a safer choice for someone who may never have control of their seizures. I chose safety over happiness. I flipped through the office administration section. I knew a desk job would be a safe choice. That way I couldn't fall and hit my head. The medical administration section caught my eye. I knew that if I went with that route that if I had a seizure at work their would be a doctor around. What doctor wouldn't know what to do? Besides doing paperwork and things like that always seemed kind of fun.
When college began it proved to be a much friendlier environment then high school. The petty gossiping and rumor mill was something most people were over and didn't really have an interest in. That was one perk, but school work didn't get easier for me. It was still hard for me to learn anything with all the medication I was on. There were times I couldn't explain simple things like what a book or movie was about. With the meds I was one it became a challenge to communicate. I got used to giving one word answers ( a habit I haven't broken) and when asked an opinion I would find a way out of it. I could write what I wanted to say but couldn't actually say it. It was like my hands and mouth were connected to two different brains. It was infuriating.
On top of that I was determined not to let anyone at school know anything was wrong. So even though walking normal was a great challenge and taking notes was practically impossible I forced myself to do it. Some days I didn't take notes because I was to dizzy to read what they were talking about and would just doodle away in my notebook.
My first semester I made dean's list, but I burnt myself out doing it. I used every ounce of energy I had to accomplish that and realized I didn't have enough energy or oomph to keep it up when the next semester began in a few short weeks. So after the first semester my grades began to slowly decline.
As if that weren't bad enough one night when I was in medical transcription class I had a grammal seizure in class. Normally that's bad enough, but this would be my first episode ever of rolling seizures. Apparently on my way walking to an ambulance they had to lay me down because I started seizing again. Apparently they couldn't stop them and I ended up in the er where they gave me a drug to stop my seizures.
I ended up in the hospital over night and had successfully scared the crap out of my family and ruined any chances of passing myself off as a normal student.
Davis College is a very small college. The same mentality as a small town. Everyone knew when I went back. Constantly asking me how I was doing and if I was okay. Which all I wanted was to be left alone. I usually ended up in the library researching vampires. Research that has come in handy for a fantasy story I'm currently working on.  Researching random things allowed me to escape everyone being so nosy. I didn't know these people and they wouldn't leave me alone.
I had a couple more seizure while attending Davis College. I also flunked keyboarding class twice because my hands wouldn't stay still. When I graduated I wasn't happy. To this day I look at that diploma with shame. I wasted a lot of money and time trying to fit in when I should have looking for what would make me happy. Davis College is a decision I regret to this day. The only thing I got out of it is now I have degree that says I know how to schedule appointments. The degree is just a bad reminder of a time in my life I'd rather forget.

Understated Dangers

So as anyone following this blog knows I'm a person living with epilepsy. What bothers me is not the condition itself or even what the condition has put me through. God saw me through it one piece and shared any pain I may have  been going through. What really bothers me is the attitude of the general public about epilepsy.

Now I understand that it wasn't to long ago that this condition was untreatable and the only thing doctors could do was lock a person with epilepsy up in a mental institution. I even get that some people are so under informed that they believe this condition isn't a condition, but a person simply possessed and a simple exorcism will cure everything. I even get that hundreds of years ago that people like me were burned at the stake accused of consorting with the devil. 

It's time to pay attention and learn about epilepsy. If Breast Cancer can have all these organizations dedicated to finding a cure why not epilepsy. Don't get me wrong I would love for their to be a cure to breast cancer, but what people fail to realize that epilepsy kills to. It's known as SUDEP. The largest amount of SUDEP deaths are in the UK. All it takes is for a person to have a seizure in the wrong part of the brain and they die. Or to be doing the wrong thing at the wrong time and then their life is cut short.

What so many people think is their is medicine for that. It's no big deal. Heck they even have surgery now. Nothing to worry about.  First of all I have a mild case and just because I'm under control now doesn't mean I'll never have a seizure again. I actually saw a YouTube video where they mentioned a girl who had been seizure free for ten years and then bam she had seizure and died. I don't what she was doing at the time. Maybe she fell and hit her head wrong or maybe she was driving.  

Their are many cases of epilepsy that can't be controlled with medication and are not even considered for surgery because of the type of epilepsy they have. If you have focalized you have shot, but the surgery doesn't guarantee you'll never seize again. It could just jump to another part of your brain and then there are those like me with generalized seizures. When we have a seizure the easy way to put it is the whole brain goes wonky. Someone with generalized seizures would need an entirely new brain. 

Did you know that their is a whole month dedicated to epilepsy awareness. It's the month of November and the color is purple. When it's a cause like cancer it's everywhere. Heck even Kroger's joins in, but not a whisper of epilepsy during it's month of awareness. The only news I get in that month is from organizations that have their hands busy trying to just help all the epileptics. 

Doctors don't mention SUDEP because their still a lot they don't know. They don't want to tell a person their is no cure for this and yes you can die from it and it's already claimed thousands of lives completely unnoticed!

Don't Move

Sleep is a very good thing. As an epileptic who tends to have seizures when I'm overly tired it's important that I get my full night's rest, but I'm not going to talk about my sleeping habits and how bad they maybe. It so happens that there are two seizures I can remember quite clearly. These two are without a doubt the worst I've ever had. Perhaps others I had were worse, but at least I wasn't conscious and aware of what was going on. There is nothing worse than when you know you are having a seizure and being powerless to do anything about it.
Both of these seizure happened about the time I get up on the weekends. One happened during high school and one during my college days at Davis Community College. A college I don't recommend. It was during that period of sleep when you're almost awake, but not quite. Maybe twenty or thirty minutes from forcing yourself out of bed. It was during this time I was shoved into the awake and alert mode.
I tend to sleep on my side, but I shift a lot in my sleep. It's not unusual for me to wake two or three times a night to fix my covers. It was when I decided to shift that it became apparent something was wrong. I went to shift onto my back and just moving sent my body flailing out of control. I couldn't stop. My arms were swinging back and forth banging the mattress and my legs were flailing up and down and I couldn't stop. I found myself unable to say anything. After a minute or two it stopped but my limbs still had a really tense feeling. Stupidly I decided to try and stretch things out and it sent everything flailing again including my head this time slamming back and forth on the pillow.
This time when I stopped I forced myself to lay extremely still as if my life depended on it. I pushed my body as hard as I could into the mattress to prevent myself from moving and starting anymore flailing. A person can only keep this up so long and when you are pushing your body into a mattress as hard as I was the body will cramp. So I eventually had to move and every time I moved my body would flail from 30 seconds to a minute. I even had to slow my breathing so I didn't set it off again.
I felt like a prisoner in my own body. I really had to go to the bathroom but was unable to get up. I was hungry and wanted to get out of bed but I couldn't. This lasted a good ten minutes. The most agonizing ten minutes of my life. I don't believe I said anything the first time because I was a dumb teenager who thought that seizures didn't happen that way for me. When it happened again I did say something. Although it was strange in my particular case I was told it was a seizure.  Thinking back on those two seizure if I could trade those experiences for rolling seizures or even a grandmal I would do it in a heart beat. I don't remember those and I get to sleep the rest of the day. But those I usually only sleep an extra ten or fifteen minutes and I remember every second. I wouldn't wish those on anyone.

School Nurse

As someone who hadn't found the right mix of meds yet and was often toxic. It probably comes as no surprise that I often found myself in the nurses office at school. The nurse and I were on a friendly basis. If I came in and someone else was there I knew to take a seat and she would get to me.
There were days in school that although I may have been determined to get through the day as normal as possible at times it just wasn't possible. One example is a time I went straight to the nurse's office after arriving at school. My mom had to walk me in because I was incapable of walking straight. When walking I looked like someone who had to much to drink. Our hopes were that the meds would ware off a little and allow me to function normally in school. I missed one class and half the class after that waiting for my world to return to it's normal spinning rather than a spin that took my legs on the trip to.
I would also go to the nurse's office if I felt my eyes were strange. I went there in fear of a potential seizure coming through and the last thing I wanted was for the other students to see a seizure. The last thing I was looking for was the usual questions. Like what does it feel like to have seizure? Asking me all about things leading up to the moment in the day when usually the seizure wipes my memory and I find myself unable to answer. Leaving both me and the people asking extremely frustrated.
I did have one seizure in a class but it wasn't my typical seizure. According to what I know from people informing me I started cursing and swearing at my German teacher. Talking about what a f@#*$% waste of time the language was and etc... Luckily the teacher knew from previous classes that this was not typical behavior for me and sent me to the nurses office. I was picked up and slept the rest of the day.
I must admit there had to be times that nurse thought I was just trying to get of class, but as tempted as that idea sounds. I went there because I was usually getting to dizzy to walk or afraid something was about to happen. I was of the mind to have a seizure in a nurse's office instead of a classroom of twenty or so people.
I'm very grateful that she put up with me and didn't point out that sometimes I was probably freaking out over nothing. She was patient and for that I'm grateful.

Ms. Ohneato

When the school year started I was signed up for two English classes. One was a fun English class that kept my love for writing alive. It was contemporary literature. The other was English honors which if it had been my only English class I might detest writing and books today. The only beneficial thing about this class was I finally learned to play chess and actually read the book Frankenstein. The class was lead by a teacher I shall refer to as Ms. Ohneato. Now this particular school year wasn't my best year. I would spend a good portion of the year in the nurse's office and I was so toxic on medications at this point that it really was a miracle I could walk from class to class. So needless to say just trying to sit up straight without swaying or shaking, and trying to keep my eyes from making the room spin so fast I wanted to puke was my soul concern. Paying attention in class somehow got shoved down on my list. I will admit I wasn't that popular this year either but I didn't care. I was much to concerned with "will the spinning ever stop" and "if I have another seizure please don't raise my medicine" type thoughts.
Ms. Ohneato was a bit weird and strict. On Fridays she demanded we play chess with a partner while listening to classical music because this excercise stimulated the mind. My oppinion she just wanted one less day of lesson planning. Which no student in their right mind is going to complain about in high school. We were always reading some kind of novel and doing questions to go with. It shouldn't come as a surprise that my grades slipped. I had so much going on personally that keeping up the good grades wasn't possible. I could barely remember anything I read if I mangaed to read something. My hands were so shaky that a lot of her crafty assignments were extremely difficult.
Ms. Ohneato didn't seem to care that I was having problems for medical reasons. She didn't show sympathy. One day when I was handing in my homework to her at her desk she asked me to leave the class because this was an honors course and my grade had slipped below a B. Now I can understand but she could have been polite about the matter and pulled me aside after class. She was frustrated to find out I was already taking another English class that met the requirement and she couldn't remove me. As long as I was taking that contemporary class I could stay in the honors class and work to get my grade up.
After the talk though any sympathy she once had disappeared. She assigned a oragami assignment. Now for those who don't know. Before my eplipsey and medication issues I was obessessed with oragami. In fact I was getting really good at it. I was able to make over thirty different things at one point, but I've since forgotten these things and refuse to pay over twenty dollars for paper to get back into my hobby. At first I figured no problem. I can do this as long as I can take my time and have my best friend who sat next to me read me the instructions I'll do fine. During the time my class was it was nearly impossible for me to read.
To my dismay the teacher announced that we only had twenty minutes, had to remain silent, and no one could help each other. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't read the paper she had handed out. I knew what we were making from the example she had. My only relief was that the instructions had insturctional pictures that went with them. I tried my best to decipher the folding instructions from the pictures, but the page was so blurry and spinning before my eyes I had no idea what to do. So I kept stealing glances at my neighbors to figure out what to do.
Ms. Ohneato was watching me the whole time. A smirk across her face. When the twenty minutes was up she walked right up to me and pointed at my right hand. "This is your right. That's your left. It's obvious you can't tell the difference. You can take the project home."
The teacher then sat back down in her seat and didn't seem to care at all that a good portion of the class was laughing at me. She didn't seem to care that she had just humiliated me for no good reason and with baseless accusations. I sincerely think this is one of the experiences that has caused me to place such large distrust in teachers. While I remember my good teachers always. The ones who actually cared and took time to explain things to me knowing that I was going through something. Some even took the time to ask what the situation was. It's teachers like Ms. Ohneato that give teachers a bad name and are one reason among many that my high school will always be remembered as the halls of hell.

Martial Arts

It should be obvious by now that I had some serious self esteem issues. When you hear at school five days a week for several hours that you're a loser and stupid. It's only a matter time before you actually begin to believe it.  In the tenth grade I began my training in Tae Kwon Doe. Now martial arts is something you might picture someone who is coordinated and athletic doing. I was neither. I'm actually kind of a hopeless wonder when it comes to sports and my opinion of the more popular televised sports surely didn't help matters. When I decided I wanted to do something outside of school I knew it either had to be Martial Arts or Dance. Both activities have always interested me greatly.
Martial arts won out because one the type of dance I was into the most wasn't offered anywhere, two I thought if would be nice to be able to defend myself, and finally because it was something that my dad got into first. So that right there made the sport a lot more appealing. When anyone joins the martial arts they should be prepared for some hard work. That's a given, but I had an additional set of cards stacked against me.
My epilepsy hadn't really gotten much better. So while most students could really on a steady body that sees everything straight I didn't even have that. My medication was being constantly adjusted so on a good day I was just a little dizzy, but on a bad day I would have trouble walking. For some reason on bad days my legs acted more dizzy than my head, the room would spin with slightest turn of my head, and even when my head was still there was still two or three of everything.
So learning to do a simple jump kick or any kind of kick was very challenging because it took me five times the effort of everyone else to just stand on one leg not to mention trying to throw a kick without landing on my butt.  Forms which are series of movements that usually have some sort of meaning to them and also are exercises to help someone learn to fight weren't much better. All the constant turning usually made me even more dizzy than I already was. While I admit I loved the classes my favorite part at that time was the stretching because we stood still in one spot.
During this period is when I really began to master my dizzy walk. Through Tae Kwon Doe I was learning how to walk perfectly normal even on my really bad days. This is why I have often wondered if I were the type to drink would the intoxicating effects really affect my motion that much. I'm used to having a hard time walking.
Their were times during class when the dizziness would just become to much and I have to sit for ten to fifteen minutes. Sometimes I would only be able to work out for half the class period because of the effects of my medicine. So when I accomplished my first rank award. The yellow tabs on a white belt I was beyond happy. I finally felt some confidence that I could do something and maybe what people said at school wasn't right. It began to become easier for me to just ignore the stupid people who didn't really want to know me, but just saw me as their verbal poking dummy.
While injuries and the epilepsy itself has kept me away from Tae Kwon Doe at times. I still have the goal of acquiring that black belt so I have proof that even if you have cards stacked against you it's still possible to do it. A recent rib injury has kept me away for a little while, but I plan on going back real soon. It was Tae Kwon Doe that gave me confidence in my self and the courage to ignore the nasty things that people said about me. While words can still hurt I find it much easier now to just shrug it off. This is one activity that I'll always be happy I decided to join.

Summer Job

Okay so it's been awhile since my last post. I shall explain my long break. First school has been a bit haywire with me researching for a psych paper. When it comes to psychology I tend to dive in. Also I stepped aside because I had to figure out a way from keeping my story from becoming boring for anyone that is following this blog. If I go chronologically in order there are a couple of problems. One my memory is fuzzy. I've been living with epilepsy for a long time now and my memory wasn't always what it is now. Two going in order will get boring because I'll end up telling scenarios that sound very similar back to back. So where does this leave my blog? Well I've decided to try and go in order as possible, but to only stick to memories that are vivid to me. Why struggle to remember something I wasn't really that present for mentally. Meds did do a number on my brain for awhile.

So I'm jumping to the end of ninth grade. All that need be said is the two friends I was close with I had a great time with. Over all though school was a struggle and I was making it my business to keep people at a distance. I'm finding this is a very hard habit to break. Most people who know me only know what I trust them with, which with most people isn't much. I'm always waiting for the dagger to come plunging down into my back. The only person I can say I truly trust is my husband and honestly I don't know how he did it.

During ninth grade my family was attending a more contemporary church that my brother and I had chosen. At this point while I wasn't furious with God anymore I still wanted to keep him out. I wanted to do things on my own. The only reason I went to church at this point was so I wouldn't hear mom and dad complain if I didn't go. At least the church we were going to had better music in my opinion. No offense to the traditional, but at this time in my life that kind of service never would have reached me. My eyes were closed and ears shut in those services, but this type of church kind of caught me off guard.

As for my summer job. It was my first job. I had decided to try getting a part time job for the summer. I hadn't had any seizures in a few months and thought it would be safe. I ended up getting a job at a movie theater. They had the popular two screens in one building and the other screens with the not so popular movies in the other building. When I first started out I was always in the popular building. Which was a good sign. This meant that the managers thought you were doing a good job.
While selling popcorn (I still can't eat movie popcorn to this day! I won't ruin it for you!) isn't anyone's dream it provided a paycheck. A paycheck that was my money to spend however. It felt good to be earning my own cash.

So things went well. My only complaint was people were a bit clicky, but I'm not the best judge. I do have major trust issues. The free movie bonus was awesome. I saw a lot of new releases that summer. Things took a turn for the worse when I had a very small seizure at work. It just had to happen when we were slammed.

For me a small seizure is some mild shaking I can't stop. I'm conscious of what is going on and am able to communicate the problem to others. Usually people understand me through the sobs. Crying usually starts mid seizure in these types and my emotions really go wacko. So I struggled to call my parents on a pay phone because apparently no one cared enough to call for me. Even though my hands were shaking so badly I had to hang up and redial about ten times.

Before I left with my parents I did my best to assure them everything was fine and that I would be able to work my next shift. So I did my usual sleep off thing. When I return for my next shift that's when things start getting weird. Instead of asking me questions about what precautions to take and stuff others have with me in the past I noticed that where ever I went an employee would follow me.  Even to the bathroom. When I took breaks I ate up stairs as was routine for me and was in full view of many people so thankfully I got some time to myself on break.

Despite the weird change in behavior I continued to work hard, but I quickly noticed that employees were double checking everything I did. Like my seizure had caused me to leak I.Q. or like what I had was contagious. It wasn't long before they moved me to the other building all the time. Because this building had no upstairs I would sneak out on my break so no one would follow me. When I would leave the room to go bathroom or something a employee would shout "hey would you follow her! "
It even got to the point of my fellow co workers being afraid to be alone in the room with me. So they would take their break in their designated spot so their other co-worker wouldn't have to be alone with the leper. In the B building there was always three on shift. One working tickets and two selling popcorn. One could have handled the popcorn job, but no one wanted to be alone with me.

It finally got to the point where I just had a break down during break one day. I just couldn't stop crying. I couldn't understand why a little seizure would cause these people to treat me like I was two. Worse like I was something that needed disposed of. Of course this whole thing just deepened my trust issues and confirmed my ideas of how no one on the planet can be trusted.

I patiently waited till they were short staffed and had no choice to put me in the A building on a busy night. I'm not proud of the following moment, but I was sixteen and stupid. Plus I had been mistreated and I didn't find out till a few years later I actually could have sued over it, but I waited misery and all. After the break down I pretended everything was fine. I waited till the line at the counter was really long and then I left the two others there who were swamped and looking to me for help. I walked up to a manager told him I quit. Used the payphone to have my parents pick me up. While the method was stupid admittedly it felt good to do. In my own way I was standing up for myself and showing them what they did was wrong.

True a confrontation and explaining things would have been a better solution looking back on it now, but I was a teenager. My brain was not fully developed yet and not capable of making well thought out decisions. So I quit in one of the worst ways you possibly can. I don't recommend the storming out method. It's one of my life's regrets. I could've taken the high road and given them some notice.

Importance of Music and Fiction

So I've stated in my previous blog post high school wasn't exactly fun for me. I also began to realize I couldn't handle this whole epilepsy thing alone like I had originally thought. So I began searching for something that would make me feel better.
For me this is when I really began to appreciate music and when my story writing really began to take off. In fact it was in high school that a story I'm currently working on began to evolve. Of course that story has become much more complex and intricate over time, but it was the story that at the time was called "Trinity" that helped me through a lot of issues.
First I have to explain that while yes I came up with Trinity I can't take full credit. As many fiction writers would say it was the character that introduced herself to me and asked me to write her story. She came to me and still talks to me when I listen to music. Music is probably the thing this character is the most passionate about. 
While outlining and writing the first version of the story it felt like I wasn't alone. The strange thing is that even though I was angry at God and didn't want him near me my character was christian and loved God deeply. Maybe I was expressing feelings I didn't know I had.  The truth is that when I wasn't ready for God Trinity kind of stepped in and helped make me ready.
I know it's sounds strange and crazy that a fictional character could do all that, but she was and is with me all the time. She knew and knows how I feel and what I've been through. All though she isn't real she was the part of my mind that wasn't afraid to call me out when I was wrong or being a wuss about something. 
I suppose part of the reason I haven't finished her story yet is finishing her story means letting her and her sister go, but I think it's time I move on and let other fictional characters get to know me, but writing her story has been fun.
In high school it was fun to just shut the world out and spend time in her world while writing her story down. A world where I didn't have epilepsy and anything was possible. I found myself spending much of my spare time there even if I wasn't writing. This is why the story I am currently writing is so vastly different from the original. It was a place where everyone knew me and was content to leave me alone. It was perfect and if it weren't for my music and imaginary worlds I never would have been able to find God or deal with the epilepsy.

High School Hell

So I'll be honest if epilepsy had been my only issue in high school I would have been a well adjusted, happy teenager. School was never a happy place for me. In fact when I thought of hell I pictured school. I couldn't think of anything worse. To this day I still think of my old high school as the halls of hell. I understand that a lot of people have a great time in high school, but there is one thing that everyone needs to understand. Everyone knows about the cliques and fortunately the cliques kind of take a backseat after high school. Although I will say that because of my seventh grade my skin was thicker, but I was also extremely untrusting. I didn't let anyone new in in high school and I didn't make any new friends and I planned on keeping it that way. Something else needs to be said I also have a distrust to a certain degree of teachers because of Junior high and high school. I've had to many teachers that for some reason singled me out and picked on me because I'm an introvert (quite), played favorites, or showed up to school drunk. This makes my college experience more challenging because I'm always wondering if they grade fairly, if they actually know what they are talking about, but their are a few teachers I've come across that deserve praise. Mr. Sanders, Mrs. Williams, and one exceptional librarian at Davis College named Peggy. They all went out of their way to help students. They went above and beyond and treated students fairly.
As for cliques I wasn't in one. Between medication side affects and half worrying about having a seizure in school I forgot to try and fit in. So even many of what populars would call geeks and dorks ignored me not to be mean, but because they didn't know I was there. When someone uncomfortable with my quite ways decided to make it clear I wasn't welcome in their presence I would simply stop listening. Making them angrier and giving me a weird sort of pleasure out of watching their frustration. Although when their words did sink in I'd dive into a horror story or poem and usually through it away quickly after. I only kept a few to remind me of the hard time I went through.
Although my friend Lindsey seemed to make friends without trying and she made sure to drag me along to a few things. This is how I became involved in the high school drama club. She forced me to go and I'm happy she did. That's really the only fun thing I did in high school.
My hatred for math became ingrained in my blood in highschool. I had one fantastic math teacher and a couple awful ones. One didn't really teach. He'd pass athletes and tell people to seek help from a student in class who was really good at math. This advice doesn't fly for the mathematically challenged.
Lunch was a toss up for me. If I knew there would be someone there I could sit with and talk to I didn't mind lunch, but otherwise I may as well have been told I was going to math class.  So what I was really looking for at this point in time was a support system.   As a teenager I didn't want to have to use my parents for support all the time. I was feeling lost as where to look. I wrote a lot of free verse poetry just about being lost. Sure I frequented places with answers, but my eyes weren't open yet.

Jumping Ahead

Before I jump ahead to high school I will quickly sum up the rest of my eighth grade year. The rest of the school year seemed to go by without incident. This allowed me to have a good time with friends at school. Because of this break in incidents I was able to develop a friendship I still value to this day. Lindsey is a friend I could never replace and has always been there for me. Darci is a precious friend to. One that I don't get to see enough of and probably should call more often. 
I also feel the need to mention that the doctor I despise. Dr. Kooky didn't last long because he accepted another position in another state. Which was very much a relief to me. My new doctor Dr. Nagel a neurologist I would recommend to anyone looking for one made me feel my actual age. He explained things and a bonus he didn't measure my head. He explained that might be necessary for very young children but not necessary for someone of my age. When summer came I had a seizure and he raised my medication and added another one. I don't remember the names.
So in the fall when school began I do believe Lindsey was attending, but I'm not positive how long my friend Darci went to Start. Maybe a little over a year. I remember walking home with her and getting grilled by the railroad police.
It was at this point that my meds. began to have an affect on me.  There were points of the day when the room would spin and I would see two to three of everything. I became very good at walking perfectly normal when my world was lopsided. The days that were worst were when I didn't have time to eat in the morning.
Also at this point I beginning to realize I might not be able to do this alone. I had begun to wonder about my Nana and how she handled things and my friend Lindsey was an influence as well. I knew she had a faith and from what I could see it didn't seem so bad. I was starting to rethink my warped thinking of God goes out of his way to make those who love him suffer. The new church we were attending also was helping as well.
As much as I love and appreciate a traditional service. At this point in my life I really truly believe a service and church like that would have just pushed me farther out the door. So I'm very grateful for my time at the contemporary church I went to. They helped show God to me not as some dominating tyrant, but a friend who just wants to know who I am. Most of all wants to share my burdens not make them worse.