Hello, everyone. Today, I want to share something personal—my journey of living with epilepsy, a disability that has shaped my life in ways I never expected. If I’m honest, it’s been a story that, for a long time, didn’t make sense to me at all. But here I am today, able to tell you that sometimes, what seems like a mess—what seems to make no sense at all—can actually turn into something powerful, something that makes perfect sense over time. I didn’t always believe that, though. It took years of challenges and self-reflection for me to truly understand.
When I was younger, epilepsy felt like a constant, uninvited guest in my life. Imagine, one day you’re just a regular kid, and the next, you’re known as the kid who has “Episodes”—episodes where, without warning, I’d lose control. I’d be walking, talking, playing, and then suddenly, I’d be on the floor, waking up to the faces of people staring down at me, concerned or confused. Sometimes it happened at school, sometimes at home, and sometimes in public places. For a long time, I felt I had no control over my own body. That feeling of helplessness was hard to deal with. I’d often ask myself, “Why me? Why do I have to go through this?”
On top of the physical challenges, I had to face the way people reacted to me. Not everyone understood what epilepsy was. Kids, especially, didn’t always understand, and some didn’t respond kindly. There were those who would make fun, those who would avoid me, and even those who would treat me as if I was strange or scary. I felt isolated and ashamed, as though there was something wrong with me that I could never fix. I just wanted to be like everyone else, but it seemed like my condition kept me separated from them. And if I’m honest, back then, I couldn’t see how any of this could ever make sense.
Then, in my teenage years, things got even more complicated. I started experiencing more severe seizures that led to real physical injuries. I fractured my cheekbone, cut my head open, cracked bones, and dislocated joints. These weren’t just bumps and bruises; these were serious injuries that left scars—physical scars, and also emotional ones. I remember one time, after a seizure that left me bruised and bleeding, I decided to take a selfie in the back of the ambulance. I posted it online with a joke, saying, “Well, I guess my modeling career is over!” Some people didn’t understand why I’d joke about it, but humor was a way for me to cope. It was a way for me to take control, even if just a little bit, of something that felt so out of my hands.
As I grew older, though, something shifted in my perspective. I started asking myself different questions, not just “Why me?” but “What can I do with this?” I began to see that my journey with epilepsy didn’t have to just be about what I’d lost or the challenges I faced. It could be about the strength I gained, the resilience I built, and even the humor that helped me stay sane. I began to see that this struggle was shaping me in ways that might just be useful, not just for me but for others who might be struggling with their own battles.
And that’s when things began to make sense. I realized that maybe I was meant to go through these challenges so I could help others. Maybe my purpose wasn’t just to suffer through epilepsy but to transform it into something bigger. Today, I use my experiences to connect with people—those who may be dealing with disabilities, those who feel like they don’t fit in, and those who are facing challenges they don’t understand. I share my story to let them know they’re not alone and that, even when life doesn’t make sense, there’s still a way forward.
So, what have I learned from all of this? I’ve learned that life doesn’t always make sense in the moment, but if we look deeper, if we’re patient, we can find meaning in even the hardest parts. I’ve learned that epilepsy may be a part of my story, but it’s not the whole story. It’s given me resilience, humor, and a purpose that I wouldn’t trade. And I’ve learned that what seems like nonsense can turn out to be the very thing that leads us to our strongest selves.
I want to leave you with this: when life feels overwhelming, when things don’t make sense, don’t give up. Sometimes the things that make no sense are preparing us for something greater than we can imagine. Remember, you are not alone, and you are stronger than you know. Thank you.
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