Dear Parents and Loved Ones-

Dear Parents and Loved Ones-

If you know me or even have read this blog then you know I have epilepsy. Recently something has been bothering me a lot. It's something that I've always dealt with but never really acknowledged until I was bothered by it times ten this past week. What I mean by that is that usually it's not so bad, but when almost everyone you care about does this annoying thing it makes my head want to implode.
So what is it that is bothering me so much? It's actually a very simple thing. Something that I know comes from people out of concern and love, but it doesn't change the fact it drives me up the wall. In fact most the time when this thing happens I'm picturing myself punching your lights out.  This  thing that is so annoying is the you can't do that things I hear on a regular basis.  What do I mean? Hear are a few examples:
     "You can't swim alone. It's to dangerous for you."
     "You can't drive a long distance. It's dangerous."
There are many more. Some epileptics take these phrases to heart and don't do anything. They never drive, swim, boil water, walk up the stairs alone, and etc... Does that sound like living to you? Living in a bubble trying to shield yourself from all the what if's and could be's.  I don't think it's living.

Sure having a seizure disorder adds some risks. Having a seizure disorder while pregnant has added risks, but I don't dwell on what could happen. If I did I would not have a job. I would not be a student. I would not be a wife. I wouldn't be able to drive. I would never have experienced the sheer joy of the ocean. I would be a lonely girl still living with her parents. Deeply depressed and wondering why continue to breathe if living with seizures is designed to steal life and it's joys away from me.  Heck I probably wouldn't have even found control like I have. Why? If you view the whole thing as hopeless then why consider testing for brain surgery. Which is when I found control after all.

When I decided to go for testing I knew it was a choice for my own health. Not just because you can get hurt while having a seizure, but because at the time I was at my limit. Mentally I just could not cope with it any longer. I was tired and wanted answers. I was desperate. If I had arrived to that mental state without breaking some of the rules of activities we epileptics shouldn't do. I would never have considered brain surgery. In all honesty if I didn't ignore those rules I would have spiraled into depression and possibly my own suicide. 

Ignoring advice and doing what my heart tells me to do has taught me life is worth living. Has kept me away from such dark thinking. So when someone says Don't it's to dangerous. What I hear is don't live life. Let your epilepsy win. or at his moment in time let being pregnant with epilepsy define who you are.

Recently I let loved ones win one of those battles, but in all honesty when I let them win this time. A part of my heart was broken. I knew I was ignoring who I was and what I fought years for just to make them feel better. Make them feel better in exchange for making myself feel like a piece of shit for giving up on things I have fought for a long time. It is quite honestly something I will look back on for the rest of my life with shame for not insisiting on my way. How can I be a proud mother when I back down on what is truly important to me? The whole inicident put into question who I am and who I should be? Honestly thinking about it brings me to tears. While telling someone they can't out of love may seem like the caring thing to do. In my case it does far more damage than it helps. The incident which I won't go into has left a deep scar that I'm not sure will ever fully heal. It's something I hope I never have to explain to my child why I gave up something so important to me. I certainly don't want my child growing up thinking that your dreams don't matter. Only what others think about what your doing does.

So loved ones next time you see me going to do something or talk about something I want to do. Even if you have nightmare senarios in your head please keep your mouth shut. I care to much about what others think that care about me and I them. I just may give up a goal, dream, or something I truly love to make you happy leaving myself in tears at the end of the day. You have to let me make my own decisions and let me live with the consequences. If you can't do that well then you aren't much of a friend at all.

Love you-
Susan Thomas

P.S. I'm sure I'm not the only epileptic that feels this way!

The above video is of the sixth fittest woman in the world who happens to have epilepsy. This was the first time she opened up about it. She is my hero!

Taking a Step Back

I know it's been awhile since my last post and I thought it was about time I post another entry. First I want to admit that I haven't been updating this blog because I'm working on something right now that I feel is more important. This blog helped me realize how important a subject I feel epilepsy to be. It's so misunderstood and because of that many people with epilepsy face unfair treatment in unexpected places. All epileptics deal with the possible SUDEP differently. There are people like me who are determined to live a normal life despite the threat of Sudden Unexplained Death due to Epilepsy. To fear what could be is live in a world of fear which I refuse to do.  Then there are others who do live in fear and let that fear dictate how they live. Many refuse to learn to drive or to even boil water on a stove for fear of having a seizure at the wrong moment. I understand their fears and do realize my particular case is mild compared to many, but I see so much wasted potential in their lives. I am always hoping they find courage to live the life they deserve.

I've decided to step back from this blog because I have felt a calling in my writing. A calling I've been trying my hardest to ignore for a long time. I feel like I'm being led to write a novel loosely based on my own experiences as an epileptic. I stress the word loosely. There are other stories of the realistic fiction genre I have been feeling compelled to write for a long time, but have been trying to ignore. Mostly I've tried ignoring these stories because it means thinking on things I don't like to dwell on. For me the best way to deal with my epilepsy and pursue that normal life has been to pretend that I don't have epilepsy, but through this blog I've come to understand I truly have a passion for getting the truth out there. I think I will be able to better do that through a story. So I'm finally letting God lead me in this writing and am officially putting my fantasy stories to the side. I may never finish them. Honestly they were a tool that got me through everything. It was my way of escaping reality. I don't feel the need to escape anymore, because for the first time in a long time I'm truly happy with life.

I'm not going to shut down this blog. Instead I'll post only every once in awhile. I'm may write about my past experiences or talk about current progress of the story I've decided to call "Craving Normal". My personal deadline for a rough draft is the end of November. I'm still outlining at the moment. If you are a regular follower of this blog feel free to pester me about my progress. I'm famous for procrastinating.   If you want to get a feel for my writing style head over to my other blog imaginary worlds. I won't be posting any short stories by me anytime soon, but while I work on my story I will be posting stuff from my great grandma. She is an amazing writer and a bit a head of her time.   My husband helps me with posting her things so this blog is more regular. My own original work is on there to, but I'm taking a hiatus from short stories unless I feel strongly I need to write something. 

In other news I'm pregnant with my first child. A experience when planning that is filled with worry. Any epileptic planning to have a child (woman wise at least) has a lot of added risks. So when we knew we were ready to start growing our family we sought a OB that had expeierence with epileptics. At first I was classified as high risk and I saw a OB that was considered a fertility specialist, but has had extensive experience with epilieptics. Once I became pregnant my numbers were very healthy and I switched to a normal OB that also has experience with epileptics. To this OB my epilepsy is no big deal because one she can handle it and two it hasn't been an issue thus far.  We are expecting a baby boy and I've had a normal pregnancy so far. A lot of worry that wasn't neccessary. The only thing I have expereicned that is something that happens to epileptics is sometimes my speech is impaired. For example I won't be able to say certain sounds for periods of time. Usually a vowel sound. It's more humourus than serious. From research my husband and I have done it's normal and nothing to worry about. It should stop once the baby arrives.

That 's all for now. God Bless you all!

Cleveland Clinic

Cleveland Clinic in Black and White (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

EEG shows abnormal activity in some types of seizure disorder, but may or may not display abnormal findings in PTE. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

There came a point in my life that my epilepsy became just to much. I had been searching for control for years and had no luck. I had tried so many different medications in hope of at last finding control that my doctor was running low on ideas. Previous tests really hadn't been much of a help. He had now brought up the option of being tested for surgery.
When I first heard that option I freaked out a little. The idea of some doctor operating on your brain can be scary. So I firmly told family and friends that I wasn't about to let a bunch of know-it-all doctors play with my brain and screw me up even more. I even thought that hey having seizures all the time and never being able to drive wouldn't be so bad, but I was at point now where the battle was something I was having trouble keeping up with.
The added stress at work wasn't much of a help. I felt like I was in the wrong for working there while my epilepsy wasn't under control. The horrible nightmares I had at night where I would die, be tortured, or kill someone I cared about was another load of stress I really didn't need. The dreams were vivid and often had me worrying about them longer than I needed to. Simply put I was miserable and fighting to find happiness was taking a lot of my energy and I didn't think I had the strength to keep fighting with incompatible meds and having seizures that would take away hope.
So I told my mother that I was considering the surgery the Dr. had mentioned and my mom asked the Epilepsy Center for information about the surgeries. We were given a very detailed packet about what goes on. I thought about looking through the information, but I already knew what my decision was going to be. I was going to tell my Dr. I was ready to be tested for surgery. I was afraid that the contents of the packet would change my mind so I never opened it. I didn't want to know.
The appointments leading up to my week long stay at Cleveland Clinic are a bit of haze because I was trying to block out the information given to me. I just wanted to show up and let them do what they needed to do to fix me.
The current meds I was on seemed at the time to be controlling the seizures, but the side effects were hard to deal with. The meds actually hindered my ability to communicate with people and absorb information. For example if someone asked my opinion of a movie I recently saw I was unable to tell them my opinion  I wasn't able to find the words to describe it verbally. So I would usually respond with generic answers like Good or see for yourself. The only way I was able to communicate like normal was in my writing. My parents described it like I was two different people. One had trouble communicating and the other was excellent at communicating and putting fresh images into your mind.
This wasn't the only draw back of the meds either. If the Rx would give me a generic brand I would seize. Or if I took a pill a little late or dropped a pill while taking them without realizing I would seize. So the meds offered an illusion of control that I didn't really have.
So when I did check in for my stay at Cleveland Clinic I knew that I wouldn't be taking my meds for the week and that I would be hooked up at all times to an EEG machine so that they could record my seizure and be able to tell how to best help me and to determine if I could have surgery.
Most of the stay was a blur  Mostly because of the seizures I had there make it nearly impossible to remember the stay. I mostly remember some really bad food and my mother who stayed with me having to go get me some decent food. I remember them giving me a drug to temporarily stop any seizures while they ran a test of some sort, but the reaction I had to that medicine was not a good one and I don't remember it to well. The drug they gave me made everything move and wave at me. This includes the pizza they served me to the walls, ceiling, and my own skin. Imagine little things with smiley faces suddenly rising out of your skin and waving at you. I was freaked out and just decided to sleep it off. That really is all I remember of my stay.
When all was said and done I found out that I was not eligible for surgery. That they were about 90 percent sure that I had generalized epilepsy and that I had been trying medicines for the wrong kind of seizures and they changed my meds that continue to work today. There was a small chance that I have a harder to spot focalized epilepsy that spreads throughout the brain so fast that it appears to be generalized. They decided not to do more tests unless the meds I'm on were to fail for some reason.
Although I don't remember much about my stay. Cleveland Clinic marks the point of a turning point in my life. After that I slowly regained control of my life and that would not have happened if I hadn't gone. My one regret is that I was so stubborn for so long. The whole mess could have ended sooner if I had just asked for the necessary help.

Related articles

• How Epilepsy Surgery Can Control Seizures
• Diagnosing Epilepsy: The EEG Test

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.

The River Denial

Sorry it's been so long since my last post. I was away from my computer enjoying Christmas and soon the new year. Last post I took a little detour from my story and told you a little about my nana because of the influence she had on me during this period of my life. I think now is the time I start talking about how I tried to deal with everything on my own. Yes, I mean on my own. As much as I love and cherish my family at that point in my life my trust issues where much larger than they are now and I didn't trust them either. I felt I had to fight this one on my own.
The medication my doctor gave me knocked me out for a good forty eight hours while my body adjusted to the new medication. After my body adjusted I don't remember any lasting side affects as this particular medication wasn't at a strong dose yet. I hated taking my meds because it was a reminder of the incident and I didn't like thinking about it. I was good about taking my meds though. I didn't want to risk any chances of a repeat incident.
My friends had finally picked up that what had happened was a topic that was off limits. That it was something I didn't enjoy talking about let alone thinking about. To make sure the topic didn't come up again I distracted them with a horror story I had been working on. Something I have since thrown away. Of all the stories I write horror stories are the ones I hate to share because there more for me personally than to entertain a possible reader. Horror stories of mine are me putting all my rage and frustration onto paper. I kill everything and everyone I'm angry at in those stories so I wasn't thrilled about showing them "The Christmas Killer" but it got them to forget about what had happened.
In case your wondering that particular story was written when I was still angry at a lot of people and at God himself. At the time I didn't want to celebrate Christmas I wanted to destroy it. I didn't want people to know that though so I wrote the story which disappeared shortly after it was finished. When I was around people who cared for me and vice verse I put on my happy mask and I got really good at it.
So things seemed to get a little better after. Things were going well with friends and I had actually begun to forget that I just might be a ticking time bomb.

That didn't last long though. One day after coming back from checking out a contemporary church I was sitting on the couch eating leftover apple pancake. I was a bit tired because I hadn't slept well the night before. The next thing I knew I was on the floor and confused. I also remember being upset that my apple pancake was gone. I had my heart on finishing that. I had saved it just for me. I don't remember much of this episode, but what I do know is that it marked a wake up call for me. That this wasn't over and it wasn't something that I could just ignore. I was going to have to find a way to deal with it.

Childhood Heros

Everyone needs someone to look up to. Someone strong and that truly shines when they themselves are going through rough times. For me that person was extremely important to me. This person was a shining example to me of how someone should endure the tough times. This person had an extremely powerful faith and despite all she endured with her health and in her past she found reasons to smile and laugh. She was never angry and spiteful like I was at least not that I saw. My nana was my childhood hero and even when I grew to old to really have a hero she still continued to be that for me.
She had every reason to be angry at God. She had a past that  could make one heck of a novel that would leave you on the edge of your seat. For a long time my family didn't believe a lot of her stories to be true until we came across a historical novel that backed everything up. She carried her mother on her back and walked with her sibling to Korea or China. It's been awhile since I heard the story. She refused to cut her hair at the buddhist temple and was taken in by christian missionaries and became a devout catholic. She had to be married three times before the United States would accept her marriage to my Pap.
She was blessed with a husband who loved her and three wonderful children who would give her grandchildren. Grandchildren that she loved to spoil with food and tell her stories to while cooking in the kitchen. When I knew her she fought an ongoing battle with diabetes and Macnia Gravas (sorry about the spelling) a battle she fought for a long time.
During her healthier years you really wouldn't have known. She wasn't going to let it slow her down. She took her meds and did her best to stay healthy. She was one of the strongest women I've ever known. When my epilepsy began it was to her I looked up to. I looked to her as an example of how to deal with all the crap that comes your way without falling apart. For awhile I thought faith and dealing with things were two complete separate things, but in watching her I learned that wasn't true. I learned that she dealt so well not just because she had a loving family willing to support her, but because she gave what she could not control to God.
Telling about my nana is important because honestly if I hadn't had her example to look up to I might not be the person I am today. I might not have the faith I have today. I most certainly would not have come out the other end of my ordeal in one piece. I'm sure that it would have broken me if I had not stopped and wondered how my nana did it.  My nana is a major reason my soul is saved today and I look forward to the day I can thank her in heaven. LOVE YOU NANA!

Crazy Doctor Visit

Before I go into the doctor's visit there is something that needs to be mentioned about my epilepsy before I continue. The seizure I told you about previously was not my first seizure. I don't feel the need to write about my first seizure in detail because I was a toddler and remember nothing. What I do know is that the medication they put me on phenobarbital seriously put me behind in the learning area of things. 
So on with the story. So first of all my mom took care of all the scheduling of doctor's appointments and all that. One because I was like thirteen and two I didn't want to be involved. The less I thought about it the better. So I was more than a little annoyed when I discovered my friend Alice had already spread the word to everyone I knew in school of what happened. The plan had been to pretend like nothing happened, but apparently seeing me have the seizure really freaked her out. So I guess telling everyone was her way of dealing with what she witnessed.
I don't remember when the doctor's visit was scheduled, but I do remember what I expected when going to the neurologist for the first time. I expected the usual doctor's office with magazines that are too old to really enjoy reading. A couple of tv's and even maybe a fishtank in the waiting room. I expected usual doctor check up procedures once I got into a room. You know check your blood pressure and all that. What I didn't expect was the office my mom took me to.
To summarize I would say when I saw the waiting room I felt ten years too old to be there. The doctor I was going to see, which his name has been thoroughly forgotten, will be referred to as Dr. Kooky.   I was just grateful their were seats big enough for me to sit in. Of course everything was brightly colored and all the toys were aimed at kids about two. The only magazines I could find were parenting magazines. That waiting room felt like hell to me. Even my mom seemed uncomfortable. I was very disinterested in this whole thing so I pretended to pay attention when my mom was filling out the paper work. At that age I didn't know half of my info. Heck I still forget alot of it and have to look stuff up.
Thankfully we didn't wait to long. I for one was relieved to see the doctor patient rooms were normal. By normal I mean a sterile white color. Sure there were a few posters hanging clearly aimed at small kids, but this was greatly down scaled and it made me feel like I actually might be thirteen. Unfortunately the staff must have felt I was feeling far to okay with the situation and decided to make me feel like I was insane. The nurse did the normal blood pressure thing and other things nurses do. That by the way I admire them for because there is no way I could handle that job. What through me off is when they measured my head.
The only thing I could think at that moment was "Yes I have head. Does it matter what size it is? I can assure you there is a brain firmly lodged in the skull." I did ask why they measured my head, but I don't remember getting a clear answer.
When the doctor came in and did the doctor thing. I asked him and he said measuring the head was important because if it shrank it could be cause for alarm. Not those words. He said it in much more doctory termonology. I must say if my head shrunk I'd be concerned. No need to measure I'd tell you.  So with that explanation I decided my doctor was crazy and I just had to bear with it.
He made it clear that because this was technically my second seizure I was an epileptic. That I needed medication to keep it under control. My mother stressed the importance of not using the medicine I was on as a toddler. So it was decided I would take Tegritol. 
I turned my brain off (wasn't paying attention) for most of the actual appointment. I figured that was what my mom was for. She was smarter than me and she could actually remember the medical stuff that happened in the past. So I just attended because they needed me there.
Until next time have a beautiful god filled day.

Seizure Info

It occurred to me that if I'm to continue you might need to know a few things. So I'm embedding a couple of videos to help inform about types of seizures and what a person should do if someone has one.

Tilted World Now Upside Down

First of all everyone should know that when my epilepsy began in the eighth grade I wasn't exactly in a healthy frame of mind. The previous year was what I would refer to and still do as the worst year of my life. Sure worse things have happened to me since then, but I didn't have the faith then that I have now. In that year before I was bullied by three girls who first pretended to be my friend and then turned the entire seventh grade against me. Their were people I never really knew that found reasons to hate me that year. Even once trusted friends from the past turned their backs on me. By the end of that school year I was severely depressed and had contemplated suicide more than once,  but the thought of the pain my parents would go through if I went through with it kept me from actually following through. So I became very angry. Angry at God, angry at my peers, angry at the church. If there was something I could be angry at I was. A lot of this anger came out through writing very horrific stories and poems. I wrote down horrible violent acts that I wanted to do, but knew was wrong so I didn't. The summer was a saving grace and helped me regain some mental stability, but my faith in God was non-existent. I had already begun to build walls to keep people out. In fact I still have those walls and struggle with the task of tearing them down. Only my husband has managed to break through them unscathed. It's sad to admit that their even walls that I won't let my own family past. That one bad year landed me with a big old pile of trust issues.
So when eighth grade year came around I managed to make a core group of friends. I kept them all at a distance of course. One of these friends was a bridesmaid in my Wedding Lindsey. Another was Darci another friend that has come to mean a lot to me even though we don't get to talk or see each other much because of distance. The others were there for a time and helped show me not all people are evil and some people can be trusted. It was one of those girls that was with me when the trouble really began. I'll refer to her as Alice. Her name is changed because I'm no longer in contact with this person and don't know how she would feel being mentioned in my blog. 
It was in the morning and Alice was waiting for her mother to come pick her up. She had just spent the night. Since we were to tired to really do anything we decided on watching TV. We settled on a movie with Denzel Washington. I remember watching a scene with a rooftop and a helicopter and then all of a sudden I'm on the floor. Paramedics are crowded around me trying to see if I'm okay. My parents are in the room somewhere I can hear there voices. My friend Alice is nowhere to be seen. All of a sudden if felt like someone decided to have fun with me and pushed a button you are not supposed to push. Once pushed all emotions a person can possibly feel flooded to the service. I began to cry hysterically, while laughing and being really angry that paramedics where hovering over me bombarding me with questions that frankly I was to darn tired to answer. Where was my bed!
What was with the little guy in my brain banging my head with a sledge hammer because it hurt. For once I felt willing to take some pain killers. Next thing I knew I was being whisked away to the hospital.
The hospital visit I don't really remember. All I do know is they took my blood and made us wait for the results. I slept the whole time on a very uncomfortable bed. Eventually we got to go home where I slept more. Apparently the doctor's told my mom I needed to see a neurologist. Which will be talked about in my next post.

What's the Blog about

So for awhile now I've had an urge to write about my story. I've felt for awhile writing down how I've dealt with my eplipsey and everything I went through was important. So that's what this is about. Now that I'm in a good place in my life and seizure free for about five years since the end of this month I think the time is over due for my sharing.
I must also stress that journey with eplipsey brought me back to God and strengthened my faith in ways I couldn't have imagined. Before my eplipsey was a problem I'd turned my back and given up on God. I'd blamed him for the bullying and the crappiness I'd faced in life thus far.  I thought I could do it on my own and I found out the hard way that I just couldn't get through the truly rough times without him.
My next post will begin my story. Until then I wish you a good day and that God be with you.