Those like me.

I recently discovered epilepsy.com, a website founded by people living with epilepsy - in other words, those like me. I am in love with this website. It's helping me to get outside of the scientific and into the hearts and minds of others who are living with the condition. I know I said that I'd make this blog into a blog about other things besides epilepsy, but it turns out that I'm a liar. I find myself nodding in agreement or posting an answer to someone else's question on a daily basis - this is such a fantastic gift for those living with epilepsy.
One of the things that I'm amazed about is how I've come to embrace epilepsy - I didn't ever think that I would like being epileptic, but I think I do....does that make sense? Embracing what others consider a disability is unusual - but more importantly, it's empowering. As I read others' stories about their experience with epilepsy, I'm amazed. I have so much to learn about my own affliction - I thought I knew everything, but I don't! And ironically, two years of learning to embrace a condition has caused me to learn a great deal about it, and it's allowed me to give feedback to other people's comments and answers to their questions. It fills me with the deepest satisfaction to know that I'm interacting with my peers. They may be 66 years old, or a mother of three, or a college student going through nursing school - and I can relate to all of them.
In particular, there have been many discussions about leviteracetam, or Keppra, which happens to be a medication that I'm intimately familiar with. I've read about others who are scared of taking the medication because of what they've heard about it - and I've read horror stories about how leviteracetam messed up people's lives, and so on. The pattern I'm noticing is the amount of despair exhibited by so many who visit the website - the tone of their questions suggests shame, anger, humiliation, and sadness. I remember a time in my life when I felt the exact same way. In so many ways, I'm a neurologist's dream: the medication works for me. But there's story after story and comment after comment that screams the opposite: no medication works for them, and they hate being epileptic. Part of me wishes I'd found this site soon after my diagnosis, and yet I'm so happy that I've only found it now, because had I been exposed to the depression and angst of so many others, epilepsy might've gotten the best of me.
Do you ever notice how the obsession with despair blur all possibilities of hope? Epileptics need to vent and relate to others who understand them, but sometimes that's where the therapy stops. As a result of this revelation, I've got to commit myself to being positive and offering encouragement whenever the opportunity arises. After all, I think that's what I may be good at.
Maybe God chose to let me have epilepsy so that I could help others who have it. I think that's why He likes me better as an epileptic.
We all have afflictions - and it varies for everybody, but you can only conquer the affliction by embracing it; not running from it. Acknowledge every part of yourself, not only the parts that you like. =)

Always hungry.

Who I am is defined by what I do. Literally. Usually, this is used as a lesson in a movie script or as a point of encouragement, but for me, it's unsettling. I define the very reason for myself based on how I spend my time, where I work, what I do, and how long I do it. I reason that my purpose is wrapped up in what I create around me and how I use my mind, body, and soul. I'm never fully settled, or content, in any point in my life. I always want to be more.



That's why, when I have a decent job, and a great life with my husband, I still beat myself up for not going the extra mile to do something extraordinary. I don't want to leave this world as just an ordinary person. I want to do it all. I want to travel to far off places, help as many people as I can, try everything at least once, and learn new things at every turn. For some reason, wherever I am in life isn't enough for me to be satisfied. I don't feel that I'm living the dream. I think I'm holding back from what I really want, and I think I've done that for a long time. I wanted to do respiratory therapy, and now I'm not so sure. The drive is still there, but I fear in my heart that even if I achieve that goal, I'll still have the feeling of standing at the far edge of a field, ready to run across to the other side and resenting myself for pausing. How would it be if one day I woke up, and realized that my life is ordinary?



This is the one hurdle I've never been able to jump, and it's been the unrelenting weakness I've felt my entire life. I achieve one goal, and I'm on to the next without really taking that first goal very far. I'm all about achievement, proving myself - to myself. I don't really understand it - I just know that I'll never be good enough for the bully inside me. The ironic thing is, I've been complimented on what this bully has brought out of me. People think I'm an extremely driven person, and the truth is, that I'm actually a tormented driven person. People admire my drive, I admire other's contentment.

I thirst for God, and I believe that the answer to my woes lies in Him. But I'm having a difficult time making that first step back to Him. I never fully give myself away to Him - I hold back and try to maintain control because I don't want to lose it. Even in my years of being extremely close to the Lord, though, I still had this unquenchable hunger. I wish I knew what I was hungry for?

Just a few odd thoughts for the day.