Mind Of an Epileptic

I tried to un alive myself. Depression hit hard. So I've decided to seek therapy. Not betterhelp. Not online. I've tried that. And it doesn't work for me. I always walked away. So I just hope that seeking therapy with someone face to face will help. Wish me luck.

Fall asleep

I remember the first seizure i had. It  was summer in Florida, where i lived at the time. I was a young teen. Just got invited to my first get together with a friend from one of my classes. The only one who spoke spanish. We were there. Waiting. Looking. For something. Anything. Any sign of life. Then, it happened. I didn’t know what it was, all i knew was that i was unable to see. Turns out, having your eyes roll to the back of your head will do that to you. I just heard a faint voice. It sounded like it was coming from far away. Turns out it was the voice of my father. yelling at the top of his lungs. He kept saying my name. I don’t know what happened the rest of the day. I do remember not being able to get in touch with the neurologist that i had, however. Also, i never understood a word he said. I remember being depressed. Very depressed. considering not taking my medication. Why take it, if it won’t work?”, i would ask myself. My father, the man that he is, the way that he speaks to me, even to this day, makes me uncomfortable, when he’s angry. I remember in middle school, 8th grade, having a seizure. To this day, the only reason i know i had one that day, was because i was told. I remember nothing about the day, or anything of the sort. Today, I am working on creating a job as a freelance writer, because writing my thoughts down, for me, doesnt work, my penmanship is horrible, so i type. I type all of my thoughts, dealing with epilepsy, and the likes, on my small corner of the internet. Most evenings, in my robe, simply relaxed and thinking. Today, i am at peace. Today, is a day to write

About the job, the reason i walked away was because i was literally tired of being used by them. I felt this way years ago, but never knew how to go about walking out. Turns out, not showing up and sleeping in is the way to go. So, they eventually stopped calling and texting me asking “when are you coming in?” to realize that i quit. the thing about it, is i never gave them a 2 week notice, never once spoke to anyone about how i was feeling. I just left. Walked out completely. Gave them one last shift and just said bye. Spoke with family about it. I asked one family member i spoke to what would happen if i went to work the next day. I got the 3 most shocking words i think i have ever heard anyone say in my entire life. You Better Not. This family member understood that it was time for me to move on and find a new way to make money, even if that way was not the way others would have gone about things. There was one other reason i walked away. I am an Epileptic. I was having trouble getting to sleep at night and even more trouble getting up in the morning. I knew that doing a whole 9 to 5 was not going to be something i could do. Not in my current state. Not in the state of stress that the job caused me, anxiety that i felt about my work, and the feeling of being in the book 1984; where the main character always felt like he was being watched. I havent been to my job since i quit. It has only been 2 weeks maybe, but i feel good. Writing was always my calling. Always, I don’t like the idea of NEEDING to do something to please other people. That’s basically what any and all jobs are. But being a freelance writer is different. It means that, even if this doesnt work out, even if this fails, I can say with confidence, i put myself out there, and gave it my all.

<3

I am frightened