The Holidays and Epilepsy
“What a privilege it is to recognize that life is not forever. Now those little moments may not seem so little anymore. Maybe all that truly matters are the people around you and the memories you choose to make.”
Christmas is one of my favorite times of the year.
I grew up in the suburbs of Boston, and a white Christmas was always on the top of my Christmas list. I was nine when I started having seizures, and ten when I was formally diagnosed with a seizure disorder. In a perfect world, I would’ve opened a golden package at the bottom of the Christmas tree with the cure for epilepsy but unfortunately, that never came to fruition.
For some, Christmas is not a happy time.
Last year, my parents and I went on a cruise around the Caribbean as my mom has always wanted a tropical Christmas. Throughout the week-long cruise, I found myself talking to everyone and anyone (I’m a Chatty Kathy, if you can’t tell!). I noticed that many people I encountered actually wanted to get away from Christmas due to their painful pasts.
“My brother passed around Christmas last year, and it’s just not the same without him”.
“My parents got divorced recently and I hate dealing with the drama”.
“I’ve lost my whole family. My children won’t talk to me or let me see the grandchildren. I needed to get away.”
Christmas is a reminder, for some, of a life once full, now turned sour due to unideal change or grief.
Life has always been fragile, but sometimes it takes moments of diagnosis or death to remind us of this fate. Christmas and the holidays can often highlight the fragility of life, often reminding us that life does not wait for us to finish grieving, and will continue on regardless.
It is what we do with this fragility that can truly make or break our outlooks. Isn’t it ironic that some of the most fragile elements we encounter are often the most beautiful?
Your parents China dishes from their wedding 30 years ago.
A hand-picked fresh bouquet of wildflowers.
Your 88 year old grandmother who has the best stories to tell around the table.
Those antique family heirloom ornaments that make the Christmas tree look extravagant every year.
These items, moments, and people are valuable and precious–to be held with the utmost love and care. We all know that if they break, they can never quite be the same.
Would you believe me if I told you this could be a parallel to life?
And even if the ornaments break or the flowers die, will we sit and sulk about the end of something beautiful? Maybe for a moment–absolutely. But may we never forget the immense joy, beauty, and memories they gifted us while they were whole–thriving in their fragility and beauty harmoniously.
I was not born with epilepsy… I spent a whole decade without it. I often yearn for my life without it. I remember the days as a young girl where my only stress was which new Limited Too top I was going to wear to school–or if I wanted a Go-Gurt or Yogo’s with lunch (spoiler: Yogo’s always won out).
But
Just like with the loss of a loved one, or a complete familial dynamic change, chronic illness cannot be reversed with the snap of a finger. It is a grief that is certainly not linear, but integral in healing.
I am still trying to navigate through grief. It’s not a straight line and I’m not sure it ever goes away. There are days that are smooth and days that are extremely difficult. It’s a beast of an emotion–dynamic in more ways than I can even express.
What we can do throughout the holidays are find little moments to be grateful for.
Were you able to see someone you hadn’t seen in some time? Did you have a meal that felt nostalgic? Did it snow like you wanted it to? Did it not snow like you wanted it to? Did you travel to a new location?
There are fleeting moments every day to find gratitude in. Sure, they might be more sparse when grief is thicker, but I promise they are there. Search for the moments–high and low. Get creative with it! Maybe your gratitude lies in not having an aura for a whole day. Maybe the gratitude is someone actually asking how your journey with epilepsy has been.
What a privilege it is to recognize that life is not forever. Now those little moments may not seem so little anymore. Maybe all that truly matters are the people around you and the memories you choose to make.
There’s light everywhere if you go out to look for it.
May you have a holiday season filled with moments big and small of gratitude.
Have a safe + seizure free day! :)