Twenty-six people living ordinary lives.
Some learning to walk for the very first time.
Others with wrinkles around their eyes.
All filled with dreams waiting to be realized.
Then, one of those twenty-six is caught off guard.
Their greens turned red. Their ups turned upside down.
Their life taken away by a silent, electrical terrorist.
One in twenty-six people will hear three life changing words.
You have epilepsy.
I’m the one in 26.
I will always be tired.
I will always have a foggy memory.
I will always be a tiny bit moody.
I will always wonder why.
But I will never give up.
I will fight for the next one in twenty-six.
I will be there to offer a helping hand.
Living with epilepsy isn’t easy, but it hasn’t been all bad. I’ve learned how strong I can truly be, and how I can make a difference. This past month, I was able to offer some advice to a girl who had just been diagnosed. Being able to help her make sense of everything and guide her through this difficult time has made every painful moment worthwhile. If I had decided not to get back up all those times I thought I couldn’t, I wouldn’t be able to offer her solace today. Sticking it out is difficult, but never impossible. Today I reflect on that.
The atmosphere is but a blank canvas. Color exists only in the form of charcoal grays. I’m standing in the middle of nowhere where the mountains are my only companions.
I tip toe across this rocky terrain hoping not to fall through the cracks. In this place, I’m searching for the girl I used to know. I’m looking to find traces of her existence that might still remain. Continue reading
I hold my breath and close my eyes hoping the pain will come and go. I try to go on as if it was just another day. There is no denying that the sunset has left and the sunrise has followed. It is another day, but it’s another day without you here. When I read the text message last night, disbelief is all I could feel. I didn’t cry. I didn’t get angry or ask why. I replied to my sister saying to let me know when the funeral arrangements would take place. I said goodnight and went to bed.
Today, I sit at my desk trying to hold back the tears. It’s not like I didn’t see it coming. You weren’t doing well, and the doctors said it would be a matter of days, but I wish they hadn’t been right.
I think about the last time I saw you and how now I never will. You grew up with my family. You were one of us kids. You were my brother’s best friend and a big brother to my sister and I. You made us laugh and helped us beat up our brother because he was too big. You were there to pick us up when we needed a ride from school. I still remember the white mustang waiting for us outside of school. Out of that small, two door car, two big, bald guys would get off to let us in the back seat. It was hilarious to see you both get out of such a small car.
As we grew up, you were there for all the milestones. My sweet fifteen, high school graduation, college graduation, and wedding. Even through the difficult times, when my grandparents and great-aunt passed away, you never failed to pay your respects and give us a warm embrace.
Life is funny and has a way of bringing the smallest memory back to light. Each of those memories will make me laugh because of all the dumb things you and my brother would say. Those memories will also make me cry because your life was cut way too short, and we won’t be able to make new memories.
I’m not sure why things happen the way they do, but I do know you were a wonderful person and a great friend. Others might have thought you were a rough, tough guy, but those who knew you well, will remember the big teddy bear inside.
Doop doop doop du doop
Swoosh swoosh swoosh… zing!
La la la la di di daaaa
Plink plunk plink plunk
Snap Snap Snap … Boom!
Oooo Ooooo Oooooo
It doesn’t matter what melodies you listen to. Music can make you laugh, smile and even cry. Just listen to whatever feels right.
Time does not yield, much less stop.
It’s always moving
It’s always passing.
Time isn’t something we can hold onto.
It isn’t tangible.
It isn’t reversible.
Time doesn’t tell us how much we’ve been given.
It could be today or tomorrow.
It could be years from now.
Time is a mystery so we should live it like tomorrow might never come.
When your thoughts become overcrowded,
remember there is a silver lining behind each dark cloud.
When the hefty storms leave you feeling like a weeping willow,
remember the tempest will leave behind a beautiful rainbow.
At times, the world will seem overwhelming.
At times, everything will be overbearing.
But when you feel like you’re at your weakest,
remember you are not alone.
My Monday reflections: Life isn’t perfect, and we all have different obstacles we face. Your problem might be different from mine, but we all go through the same motions. Knowing this, lets me realize we share the same experiences so we aren’t going through life alone.
How do you live with a monster in your head?
How do you continue when it tries to knock you dead?
I’ve found myself caught between two worlds.
There’s the easygoing Dr. Jekyll.
And there’s the frightening Mrs. Hyde.
Jekyll and Hyde.
Which one really am I?
I can’t control the latter.
I want to hold onto the former.
When there is no solution, there are two things you can do.
You can succumb to the maddening sadness and let it take its toll.
Or you can make the best of the situation with all your heart and soul.
My Monday Reflections:
We never know what cards we will be dealt with, but it’s fruitless spending our energy trying to alter the things we cannot change. Life must go on. Why not make the most of it with the ones we love?
Melodic sounds of Bach and Mozart hum through my ears.
The aroma of fresh, hot coffee fills the air.
It’s a slow morning, much like all Mondays are.
One wishes weekends could be long-lasting.
One wishes we could have slept just a bit longer.
But weekdays have a way of getting here before expected.
I know “end” is in the word, which is why it doesn’t last.
But why can’t there be more days in the weekends?
Being the youngest has it’s advantages, but it definitely has it’s disadvantages, too. This is something I wrote a decade ago, but fitting for National Sibling’s Day. Although my siblings gave me more headaches than I could count growing up, I wouldn’t change them for anything in the world. They’ve always been there for me through thick and thin. Continue reading
It happened again. The silent stare and painful convulsions. My morning started with a simple cup of joe, but ended with a trip to the ER. Epilepsy, my dear old friend, sure missed me these past three years and came back to end my one month seizure free streak.
In a weird way, I’m not disappointed that it happened. It was my fault to begin with. I missed my dose the night before. I just have to get back into the routine of taking my meds on time again.
But why am I okay with it happening? I’m okay with it happening because I won’t have to celebrate my one-year anniversary on my birthday. I have a new date to celebrate and an entire new day of excuses to ask my husband for presents.
But most importantly, it made me realize how much my work family cares for me. Although many of them had never seen me seize before, they weren’t squeamish from the blood that spilled from my mouth as my teeth ground my tongue. They weren’t making faces as my body contorted on the ground. They took action! They made sure I didn’t hurt myself during my fit, and made sure I was alright, after I showcased my breakdancing moves.
I am very grateful for my work family and how they came together to work as my epilepsy team!