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I have epilepsy.

Diagnosed at the age of 3.

On medication until I was 17. Tegretol. Dilantin. At 17 I stopped taking them because the physical problems it was introducing wasn’t worth the benefits the medication was supposedly providing.

Throughout my life I have had numerous seizures, from petit mal seizures to grand mal ones.

Here’s a description of what I experienced in a grand mal seizure.

I’d felt my body twisting and turning.

My mind flipping inside itself.

The noise of a grandfather clock could be heard spinning around the room.

And as I sat down on the couch.

I knew. Deep down inside knew.

There was something more to the epilepsy I had been diagnosed with when I was young.

That reality itself had come unhinged. Light had become detached from sound, and my years of denying that I had epilepsy was suddenly and not so elegantly reminding me.

“Guess what?, I’m bacccckkkk.”

I was panicking, as it had begun to felt like my mind was falling apart, and it was only intensifying the situation.

I looked at the clock, which was taunting me – standing there all stalwartly acting as if it wasn’t doing anything, but it was,  the tick tock tick tock noise drifted around me.

I felt like I was in a black hole.

I had only seen epilepsy from the outside before. Someone bites on their tongue and convulses. But I had never, in a million years, imagined what it would be like from within.

As I stumbled to the bedroom.

I lit a candle. Candles had always soothed me when I was panicking.

This one my brother had bought me, he said it was to keep demons away. Not one to typically believe in such things, in this instance, it was certainly an appropriate thing to light up.

I sat down. And breathed in. Out. Methodically.

It wasn’t working.

My head throbbed. The pain was exquisite.

The candle’s weird light danced on the wall, and despite the candle being in front of me, a shadow of me was cast behind the candle and what looked like a Tyrannosaurus Rex was kicking my head like a football.

As it kicked, I could hear a rolling noise.

And the pain intensified.

I felt like I was going to puke.

I laid on my stomach on the bed.

To say I was scared for my life would be an understatement.

The room spun so I bolted back up as fast as I could.

But it was too late.

My mind was doing a free fall inside itself. It felt like I was going through a tube of some kind, like someone had just flushed my mind down a drain, and it was quite literally causing butterflies in my stomach which felt like I was going skydiving.

If there was a God. I begged for it to stop to him.

You see, we haven’t been on the best of terms – most of the time I am not willing nor ready to believe in a God, as I’m not a fan of subservience.

But in this moment.

Where I had literally lost control of my own mind.

I cried out loud.

I don’t know if anyone or anything ever heard that cry.

But over the next few hours after that event, it eased up. I regained control.

So when someone tells me they have epilepsy and they merely blacked out when they had a grand mal epileptic fit for it.

I can’t help but wonder.

Are they full of shit?

All hell broke loose for me when I had mine.

In the course of my life, I’ve never told anyone about my epileptic fits. I treasured my driver’s license that much. It’s an immediate revocation of a driver’s license should you be diagnosed with epilepsy.

And while I’ve been told I should be on medication for it.

I’ve refused it since the age of 17 when I took myself off of it.

Sure. Those experiences were terrifying.

Not every one I had was as terrifying as that.

But learning how to control my own mind is more important to me than preventing recurrences.

To me. Epilepsy’s not a disease to be cured or a problem to be fixed.

And as I’ve learned, it’s not to be dismissed as I once had by calling it something it’s not – an out of body experience.

It’s a mutation of the mind.

One I am increasingly becoming convinced may very well be a superpower I am obtaining.

And I’m a mere infant learning to control it.

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