Dancing With the Devil

Sharing something as personal as an illness brings to light quite a few things.  One is that this has helped me in ways I never thought it would.  Other people have responded and e-mailed me with their stories.  They understand what I have been going through in a way that no one else can.  When you have something like a seizure disorder, the effects aren't always visible.  Most people don't even try to look beneath the surface to see what is going on with you.  That's when a lot of the problems start.  At least that's how my story goes.

My seizures have been yo-yoing back and forth for the last four years, for whatever reason.  I have spent time in and out of hospitals and doctors' offices trying to figure out the right combination of medication and therapy.  But nothing has really seemed to help.  The majority of my seizures are stress-induced and I have been under a lot of pressure for quite a while now.

Things came to a head this last month or so.  My medication was changed so many times that the various amounts of different drugs running through my system caused a major functional meltdown in both my body and my mind.  It's hard to explain to someone what that feels like, and I can't really other than it felt like my body was taken over by someone who wasn't me anymore.

I am normally a very outgoing, happy, fun person.  Sure I have my moments, but who doesn't?  But in the last few months, I have alternated between barely normal and something tantamount to Sybil.  And this was not something I could control.  Looking back, if I had the right people around me, or I talked to someone who really cared about what was going on with me, I could have gotten the help that I needed.  But I was afraid of changing the status quo.  I certainly didn't want to end up back in the hospital, which is what happened, so I said nothing.  Instead, my behavior became more erratic.  This was from a combination of things happening in my personal life and the medication I was taking which turns out was not so good for me.

Eventually things came to a head a week and a half ago now.  I ended up back in the hospital - twice.  My medication was totally out of control.  I was out of control.  I didn't even know what I was doing half of the time and the other half, I just wanted to crawl into a hole and never wake up again.  That's what this THING does to me.  And unfortunately for me, I was relying on someone who was incapable of helping me and instead made my situation worse.

When I finally reached out - to the right group of people - albeit almost too late, I finally ended up exactly where I needed to be.  And I am sitting here, typing this, with tears rolling down my face as I realize just how badly the situation could have ended.  I could have died.  The amount of drugs running through my system could put down a 300 pound linebacker.  Fortunately for me, I was used to it, so I survived.

Now I want to move past survival.  I know I will get through this.  And while each day gets a little bit better and easier, I don't want the JUST survive.  I want to thrive.  I want to be that mother, sister, daughter and friend that I have been in the past.  I want to know that I am worthy of someone who wants to care for me and take care of me the way that I need.  I want to be able to put my trust in someone without the fear of being hurt again.  And I will.  Because if I don't, then the devil wins.  And I'm done dancing with him.