Life is not intended to be a straight shot. I have always been grappled by the curiosity of watching a day pass, of wondering where a person is hurrying off to and why they are so quick to get to their destination. There are moments in our lives where, if we sit and watch our surroundings rather than going with the pace of immediacy, we can discover more within ourselves and about ourselves. Due to epilepsy, I am not just slowing down, I am forced to slow down. I am forced to breathe with intention and recognize that the quiet instances in life are what make life so beautiful.
Many people wonder how I stay so hopeful after an experience that caused seven seizures in a matter of eight weeks; I am not the only one who remains hopeful. I have my family as a daily reminder to count my blessings, to measure the small successes rather than dwell on the tiny pressures that enforce grit against the grateful mindset. Yes, there are days where the side effects of this euphoric mindset lose control to the side effects of four medicines – but then I think of what could be, what I do not have to face in the mornings because I am graced with a home, a support system, and another day without a seizure.
If you are someone with epilepsy that does not have this grace, know that there is grace in love from fellow epileptics like me; know that you are loved because you are not the only one who is petrified whenever you space out for a minute or your hands begin to twitch. If your epilepsy is medicated by your own sense of waking up and hoping for relief, know that there is more hope for you. Mornings can be terrifying for an epileptic, but take one minute out of your morning to find mindfulness, to find strength in yourself because you are capable of living with this condition that can be controlled.
As an epileptic, we take the scenic route. I take longer to move from the bed to the door. I repeat stories multiple times to people. I often ask for my mom to remind me of something because I simply didn’t remember the first time. However, I am learning to love this life. I am not in a hurry and I never will be. I am taking the path where I find beauty in calmness, in the quiet instances. I am finding beauty in what life has given to me.
Many people wonder how I stay so hopeful after an experience that caused seven seizures in a matter of eight weeks; I am not the only one who remains hopeful. I have my family as a daily reminder to count my blessings, to measure the small successes rather than dwell on the tiny pressures that enforce grit against the grateful mindset. Yes, there are days where the side effects of this euphoric mindset lose control to the side effects of four medicines – but then I think of what could be, what I do not have to face in the mornings because I am graced with a home, a support system, and another day without a seizure.
If you are someone with epilepsy that does not have this grace, know that there is grace in love from fellow epileptics like me; know that you are loved because you are not the only one who is petrified whenever you space out for a minute or your hands begin to twitch. If your epilepsy is medicated by your own sense of waking up and hoping for relief, know that there is more hope for you. Mornings can be terrifying for an epileptic, but take one minute out of your morning to find mindfulness, to find strength in yourself because you are capable of living with this condition that can be controlled.
As an epileptic, we take the scenic route. I take longer to move from the bed to the door. I repeat stories multiple times to people. I often ask for my mom to remind me of something because I simply didn’t remember the first time. However, I am learning to love this life. I am not in a hurry and I never will be. I am taking the path where I find beauty in calmness, in the quiet instances. I am finding beauty in what life has given to me.