I had a bad absence last night. It was my first in well over a month, and it was quite severe. I was eating my dinner, rather tired. I felt one coming, and the next thing I can remember is that I was sitting back on my chair, the plate which had been in front of me was gone, and my glasses no longer felt straight. I had no idea why my glasses suddenly didn’t feel right, but I had apparently fallen off my chair and twisted them.

I think that is the worst thing about my absences: it isn’t the seizures themselves, which are over within seconds, which upset me, but not being able to remember what happened in the fifteen minutes or so after them. Anything could have happened and I would have had no control over it. Fortunately last night Serkan was still here to get me up again. I have a spare pair of glasses I can wear, but I’ll go to the opticians later to see if I can get my specs straightened. Nonetheless, this morning I still feel rather edgy about what happened: I know those things come in clusters, so I can expect one or two more over the next couple of days. What if I have one when I’m out and about, or alone here at home? Of course, the chances are that I might not have one at all, and the vast majority of the time they pass entirely without incident or issue; yet the prospect of that empty, amnesiac feeling is what worries me.

I can’t help but feel upset and on edge, in a way which probably has little to do with the direct effect of the seizures themselves. I know I can’t help them or stop them, but in a way that is the problem. Writing entries like this helps though, as it lets me get these thoughts and frustrations out of my brain and into the wider world. Articulating them, structuring such thoughts and feelings into sentences, certainly helps. Few other people have them, so they make me feel rather isolated and alone. It thus feels like a relief to tell others what they feel like and why they are so upsetting.