Epilepsy makes people uncomfortable.
It scares people.
It’s strange and alien.
Some people see the word “epilepsy” as a dirty word.
Like the word “coloured”, people see it as acceptable to call “those things you have” as “fits” because that’s what they’ve always been called.
It doesn’t matter what I feel, or how frightened I am; that I detest being referred to as “possessed“; that people close to me will not call my “demon” by its name for what it is.
Admitting that I have epilepsy is not an admission of weakness – it is my reality.
This is my condition.
You may be a witness to it, but you’re only the passenger; you can get off the bus anytime you want! However I’m the one stuck at the wheel.
This is my reality.