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.