I think the worst part of having a seizure is not being able to articulate what’s going on in my head. I know what I want to say. I know I want to explain my trigger to someone if they’re seeing me have a seizure. But I can’t. All I can do is allow myself to be led or sit or held and wait until the storm ends. There’s one trigger I have that I can’t seem to articulate fast enough. By the time I realize what’s going on, it’s already too late. The seizure has already started. By the time I come out of it, I can’t remember what was going on in my head that triggered it in the first place. That’s a feeling of absolute helplessness that’s terrifying. I want so badly to say it because if I say it then I can be more aware of it. If it has a name, it can be controlled. I know it’s a thought process, not an external trigger. But damned if I know what it is. It’s like tip of the tongue syndrome with my brain. It’s horrible to not be able to communicate. As someone who has never been at a loss for words since I learned how to talk, this is particularly traumatic. I just want to be able to say what’s going on in my head and I can’t. Then it just makes my anxiety worse which increases the chances that I have another seizure. Vicious cycle. It blows. A lot.
On a happier note, the grown ups, Boy, & I went to the Attack of the Killer Tomato Festival today. It’s hosted by one of my favorite restaurants in town and supports GA Organics. We certainly got our fill of lycopene, vitamin C, & antioxidants for the day. We sampled tomato pie, “caprese” sorbet, tomato crisps, cornbread, sliders, and even tomato cotton candy. We left sufficiently stuffed. Of course, I never have a bad time at a food festival.
I also scored a top, 2 bags, and an exercise ball (upon which I am currently perched) at the thrift store for less than $13. Best community service ever.
XOXO, readers!
Beautiful Scars 