What it feels likes to me...

So I just joined this group, and I don’t normally do this, but I can’t sleep, so I’m going to vent a little. “About what?” you’re surely asking! Excellent question, I’m glad you asked. Here it is: I have epilepsy. And I cannot f***ing stand it. I tend to be a quite private person so I don’t usually bring this up, and I was only diagnosed about 4 years ago, so a lot of my friends and family may not even know I have this. Anyhow, for a long time I thought it was no big deal—have a seizure, rest, go back to work. But recently, I think it’s starting to take a bigger toll on me and I don’t really know what to do. Except try to communicate about it, get it off my chest. So here goes! A lot of people ask what it’s like to have a seizure. Well, let me tell you—it’s awesome! Just in a horrible, kill yourself type-of-way. As an example, here’s what went down a couple weeks ago… It was pitch black—maybe 2 or 3AM? I came to groggily; more exhausted than when I went to bed. I couldn’t remember what day it was, where I was, anything really. I was nauseous. I was cold. I didn’t understand what was going on. My body felt like I had spent all day lifting 400lb. weights. Putting the symptoms together, I could tell…I had had a seizure. I knew I had to get to a hot shower; ease the nausea, relax my body… But my muscles were so sore and weak from contracting during the seizure that I could barely move my legs. Straining as hard as I could, I managed to struggle out of bed. On the floor, next to a broken glass, I saw a large pool of blood. I looked at my pillow, also covered in blood. Still disoriented and nauseated, I got in the shower. The hot water was cascading down, and I felt shooting pain all over. That’s when I noticed the cuts and bruises all over my back, my shoulders, my hip, my leg, and the back of my head; not to mention my lip, which was badly bitten. Still nauseous, I got out of the tub to go lay down again, but not before a quick stop at the toilet to throw up. I felt like death, so I went to the kitchen and filled a water bottle, where I noticed all the dishes had been knocked off the counter. Confused, I picked a loaf of bread up off the floor, which I had smashed completely in my stupor. I didn’t have the energy to clean up, so I stumbled back to bed and spent the rest of the morning alternating between laying there in agony and vomiting in the bathroom. Too exhausted to move, I drifted off to sleep. It was 6AM. When I woke up, it was dark again. A glance at my phone told me it was 8 o’clock. I had literally slept all day. I forced myself up to take care of myself. Oatmeal, juice, lots of water, rest… And I tried to piece together what had happened… I had a seizure in bed. I had gone to the kitchen, where I created the mess and got a glass. I must have then had another seizure in the hall, breaking the glass, cutting myself up, and leaving the pool of blood. Then I had gotten back in bed, getting blood all over the pillow and sheets. That’s when I must have woken up. It’s been two weeks since then. Am I better? Yes and no. It took a week, but slowly I was able to move like normal and go to the grocery store without feeling like I had run a marathon, and the cuts and bruises have almost healed now. I cleaned up the blood and glass, and put everything back in its place, and things are slowly getting back to normal again. No, I haven’t been to a doctor yet. I simply can’t afford it every time I have a seizure—don’t get me started on the American healthcare system—but I will go in once my Obamacare kicks in next month. But even after more than two weeks, I’m still recovering. My neck and back are still so knotted up that I can't get comfortable. My moods and personality feel different, raw. I find myself overcome with emotion seemingly randomly, sobbing uncontrollably without knowing why. I get dizzy spells sometimes and can’t focus, like I have butterflies in my brain. My short term memory isn’t as good either. Sometimes I forget what I’m doing while I’m doing it, or I can’t remember things that just happened. And I can’t sleep. Every morning now, I wake before dawn. I go to bed early to compensate, but either way, I can’t sleep more than 5-6 hours. Which is why I’ve been sitting here wide awake since 5AM, writing this essay to no one. No, that’s not true. To me. This disease can make me feel powerless. But hopefully in writing this, I can take back at least a piece of what I’ve lost. Anyway, if you've read this, thanks. I'm still learning about this, so I'm not sure if any of this makes sense or rings true for anyone else, but you're not alone. Things will be okay and I hope everything will work out in the end, but I guess in the meantime…just keep on keepin’ on.