Epilepsy Update 29 December 2016

Let me begin by saying that I had a seizure-free day yesterday!

The dreariness, or depression, or whatever I was feeling as I wrote my entry yesterday morning began to lift somewhat in the afternoon, and the fog lifted from my brain just a little as well. I took a spin on my bike and made a couple of repairs in the apartment, and then worked out in the evening. Conny spent an hour or so with me in the evening and I was able to give her my attention. I finally felt just a tiny bit more strength in my spirit. 

It became clear to me that I've yet again been a prisoner of that tension and anxiety for several weeks now. That tension and anxiety that I, and so many other epileptics complain about so often. Yet I don't understand that at all. I can look back on any number of blog entries I've written in the last couple of months about my attempts to identify when that condition, that downward part of the up and down cycle, is trying to come upon me again, and to stop it before it can get started. I thought that I was learning to cope with it and hold out against it! I was beginning each day by drinking my first cup of coffee in bed, in stillness and solitude and prayer, and facing each day with a certain composure as a result. The storms still blew against me, sometimes stronger and sometimes weaker, but I faced them with a certain inner tranquility. That gave my soul a certain hope and strength to face who knows how many years of life I have left, burdened with this illness. I thought to myself, "I can handle it if I can maintain this strength in my spirit."

Then suddenly I begin to realize, yesterday, that I was defeated by that terrible condition at some point after writing all of those entries, and didn't even realize it! When did it overtake me? I have no idea...

That's the way it always is. The fog begins to lift one day and I realize that I've been stuck in that condition for days, or weeks, or I don't know how long. Tied up in knots inside, sad, don't want to see or talk to anyone. I don't realize I'm in that condition while I'm in that condition. I do realize that something is terribly wrong, but not exactly what because I'm in a fog, nerves on end, and my thoughts are completely scattered. It is a condition of complete weakness and inner defeat. My spirit becomes powerless. I'm helpless against that condition. I even cry out to God for help when I'm so tied up in knots like that, but it always seems like he's a million miles away at those times. I plod on, confused, always reacting on impulse, never acting, totally unsure of what to do, everything seemingly threatening. I keep on going, and keep on going, and keep on going, just hoping for the next good phase to start.

I sometimes wonder how I seem to other people when I'm in that condition? I can't seem normal to them. Do I seem unfriendly, unapproachable, or even stand-offisch, like I want to keep them at a distance? I suppose it's possible, but what

can I do? It's like there's a buffer between me and the world when I'm bound by that tension, brain wrapped in that confusion, and I find myself embarrassed by it and trying to hide it from everyone, trying to act normal. It may well be that I try and keep people at a distance at those times, fearing that my condition will be noticed if I let anyone too near. It's almost impossible for me to admit weakness to anyone, to admit that I have an illness that debilitates me, likely thinking that others will think less of me for it, see me as only half a man or something. That, in and of itself, is likely a sign that I see myself that way. 

I've completely pulled back into myself this last round. I haven't even gone to church, or to bible study for weeks, and those are the only free-time activities I have left in my life, those people the only human contacts I have outside of work- besides family, of course. As a matter of fact I've barely left the apartment since my vacation began. I tell myself over and over again that I've got to get going again, but haven't yet found the courage, or strength, or whatever to actually do it. 

So how can I avoid that condition if I don't even see it coming? Having two or three short, light seizures per day is nothing! I can live with those. It's that terrible condition that takes over without me even knowing that it's taken over that is so devastating. This "waking up" every so often to find out that I've "been in another world" for the last few weeks is unbearable. What are the signs that it's coming so that I can do something about it before it can take hold? Why don't I get some help from the Lord with that part of it? 

I don't have anyone to talk to about any of this, and sometimes I really wish I did. Yet at the same time I know it wouldn't do any good anyway because the years, and the roads I've traveled have made a man out of me who has major difficulties opening up to other people. Not only that, but what's inside of me is simply too much to impose on anyone. There is too much volume, and too much emotional energy behind it all. I fear it would sweep a person away if I were ever to let it all out. I knew someone many years ago who I could completely open up to. Completely and totally. 100%. For some reason I wasn't afraid of her thinking less of me when I felt weak. She took me in her arms and held me when I felt weak, and I had the freedom to let the sadness out and the tears flow. I always felt better afterwards. 

But that was many years and miles and lives ago...

Some time ago I thought it might be good to talk to other Epileptics. They would be able to understand exactly what I go through each and every day, since they themselves go through the same thing. There is an Epilepsy self-help group here in Aschaffenburg and I have gone to a couple of their meetings, but I didn't really feel comfortable there (I may have written about them before, I don't remember). First of all, there are no active Christians in the group, which makes confiding in them impossible for me. Secondly, they're basically nothing but a club where you have to pay dues and take part in constant projects and luncheons, and all kinds of other things which take up huge amounts of your free-time, which is exactly what I do not need.  All of the people in that group are retired and have all the time in the world to do stuff like that, but I work full time.  

So to wrap it all up, my brain does seem a little clearer and my heart just a touch stronger today. Conny and I are driving to Wiesbaden to pick out our wedding rings, and I hope my condition will stay this way, or get even better. I hope I'll have lots of capacity to listen to her and converse with her. The sun is shining and the occasion is supposed to be a happy one. It won't be nice for Conny if I'm all depressed and drag her down.