Sinking.

Altogether, my physical recovery after the seizures of June 21 took a few months. I can't say exactly how long it was because I don't recall when things came back to "normal" (things are still not quite "normal" like they used to be, but that's to be expected, or normal, if you will =). I was extremely fatigued much of the time, especially the first few weeks of being home. I was in the hospital for a total of four days - and was in and out of sleep for most of those four days. I was wheeled out on a Wednesday evening, and I was very seldom left unsupervised by my parents and fiance. I had a difficult time going out with friends because I was less social than normal and wasn't back to my normal energy level. In fact, I'm still not back to my pre-seizure energy level.

This is a normal thing for people who suffer from seizures. Most of the time I just wanted to sleep. It takes awhile to adjust to the medication and get back to day to day life. I watched "Project Runway" everyday, and even sank to the level of "America's Next Top Model" reruns. What can I say? I was desperate for something to focus my mind on. I also tried to read more - hoping that the down time might produce a more scholarly woman than I started out as. I might've tried writing sonnets of angst if I thought it would get me anywhere. I thought I'd become one of those mysterious, complex, people who read Chomsky and quote Nostradamus. Basically, I believed that the months of inactivity would give me an opportunity to change the person I'd become which I loathed so much. That's when I started really counting all the things I didn't like about myself. I made it into a daily exercise - going back in time and trying to re-live past situations in what I thought was a better way - only to realize that I couldn't change the past, or those aspects of myself that make me vulnerable and weak to other people.

The depression started suddenly. I'd been home for less than a month when I started sinking into a miserable puddle on the floor of my room every weekend. I basically believed that no one loved me - that it wasn't the epilepsy that made me unloveable - but myself. I began to pick fights with people I love - because after all, I was stupid and couldn't take care of myself so, why worry about being rational? At that time, I wrote off all that I'd worked for, believing that my whole life was worthless now that I was turning into a monster. Who really wanted to deal with me anyway? Why would anyone love someone so pathetic? Well, that's easy, I reasoned - no one really loved me to begin with - they felt that they HAD to be there for me but didn't really want to. That's why I lost my temper so often - because I thought people were pretending to love this monster of a person when they should've just tossed me out on the street. I felt that I didn't deserve to be loved.

Of course, this didn't stem solely from the epilepsy - I was already prone to this way of thinking. I'm an extremely sensitive person, even when I'm at my strongest - but during this adjustment phase, I completely gave up on trying to hide my feelings on things. I was argumentative and acted on impulses - making it difficult for people to know how to help me. I didn't want help - but I needed help, and I hated it. I'd gone to school away from home for two years and had a lot to show for it - and when I ended up stuck back at home with my parents without driving priveleges, I might was well have been a vegetable for how upset it made me. I pulled away from people who aggravated my feelings of helplessness - namely my friends who had successful careers and happy lives. I was supposed to be in Africa for a year - after all, I'd been chosen for it - and that was greater than any dream I'd ever had to start my career upon. When I realized that I wasn't in any condition to travel across the world for a year - my perception was that the internship was taken from me. I was angry at God for giving me a dream that couldn't be fulfilled - and I had sought so much of my self worth through my accomplishments that I deemed myself completely useless.

Therefore, every Saturday, I'd roll up into a ball on my floor and sob for no reason. During the week I'd feel the depression - but during the week felt more like a mini-vacation and I found it easier to live with. But when the weekend came - and I realized I hadn't made anything of the preceeding week, I'd lose all my bearings. My fiance asked me on one of these occasions if I ever thought about suicide, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't. I never would've been able to carry it out, of course - but the fleeting thoughts were there. If anyone reading this knows me personally, I'm not exaggerating any of it. This just goes to show how bad the depression was at times. Like I mentioned in a past blog, I saw a psychiatrist and a psychologist - and to be honest, seeing the psychologist helped me realize some things about myself that I didn't see previously, but it really wasn't what I needed.

Other people ARE my greatest sources of stress. There's nothing that gets under my skin more than the thoughtless actions of other people. Whether they are a close friend or an acquaintance - I'm easily hurt and offended by things that most people wouldn't think twice about. Before my seizures, I had a tendency to be this way, anyway, but following my seizures, I was even more fragile than I was before. Part of this was my drop in self confidence, no doubt - but the other part is the depression. Of course, it hurt 100 times more when people I loved did inconsiderate things, but even people I didn't care about as deeply could have me wrattled with one expressionless face. I'm still like this - and I don't know why, but I'm trying to work through it. I think its because I'm normally a happy, kind person, and when people don't respond well to me I take it personally, everytime. I believe its an anxiety issue - I'm overly anxious about my relationships with other people. So, when the depression caused me to pull away from people and snap at others - I didn't know how to make up for my inability to control my emotions. Yet, another thing I began hating about myself.

The depression goes along with the epilepsy - although epilepsy isn't the cause of it, necessarily. Circumstances surrounding epilepsy can lead to depression and a drop in confidence is a common aspect of being epileptic. Of course, I'm a mild case - my seizures can be controlled with medication. What about epileptics whose seizures can't be controlled by medication? How devastating that must be. I can only imagine that the physical and psychological side effects must be amplified to a greater extent. But, this blog is to help people understand that depression is common for those with irreversable conditions, although situations vary from person to person. I'm doing all right, but the depression comes and goes, with a much greater aggression than it ever did when I was younger.

So, don't tell a depressed person, "Don't worry, be happy!"
It doesn't work.