“Losing is a learning experience. It teaches you humility. It teaches you to work harder, it’s also a powerful motivator” – Yogi Berra.
I needed motivation. I needed that element of acceptance and I needed to understand that I wasn’t going to win at everything. When you lose at something do you take it on the chin or throw a strop?
In life people have goals that they wish to accomplish. People aspire to be successful whether that be having a good job or looking their best the goal must be achieved in order to feel happy about yourself. I agree that it is an attribute to have goals however this shouldn’t be detrimental towards your health. Without good health then these goals are so much harder to achieve.
The problem I was having was that I had made my goals un-achievable. My grandmother had a business, married, a family and a home in an affluent area by the time she was 30 years old and that was credible. Mind you that was the sixties we are now in the noughties. Times have changed considerably and so have society. People are more opinionated and the idea of “freedom of speech” has sort of gone out the window a little. Although society was changing the concept of success was still the same.
All I wanted was to have a decent job that would keep a roof over my head, to have a partner/family who loved me for me and to be seizure free. I wanted to be able to accept myself. I had the majority of those so why was I wanting more? Was it my condition that had forced me into this category of non acceptance? I wanted answers and I wanted them fast.
Like a lot of children today when I get an idea into my head I have to have it yesterday. The whole waiting game never appealed to me. My family used to tell me to slow down as this didn’t help my epilepsy. They were afraid that I would be unwell in the process. Jokingly I say to my friends I am not spoilt I am loved and that’s the difference.
All joking aside I like to feel that I am moving forward and never standing still. Maybe I do this because the very thought of standing still would mean that my worries of my condition could come flooding back and I didn’t want that to happen. As I would say I didn’t want to jinx anything.
When it came to my partnership with my husband I was prepared to wait as this person was someone who hadn’t been in my life for the amount of time my family had. He was and still is someone who has kept me grounded and level headed.
My therapy sessions were extremely hard at first.
My therapist tried to withdraw all my problems from me and allowed me to lay my cards on the table, when I mean my cards I mean my insecurities. I think it’s beneficial to list these insecurities in this blog as there is the possibility that many people can associate with them.
My therapist insisted on seeing me on a weekly basis for the first four weeks before reducing my appointments to fortnightly and then monthly. She was a lovely woman who allowed me to explain what my life entailed and what could have possibly forced me into this situation.
When it comes to this blog I believe in honesty as this is the best policy.
Throughout my life I have always wanted to be liked. I wanted to be popular and I wanted to have the most friends. I was someone who wore her heart on her sleeve and would literally do anything for others. My therapist understood that my parents ended their relationship at an early age and that had left a lasting impression to what I wanted for myself.
My parents have more plus points than negatives and they have always did their best for me to make my life comfortable. When I was diagnosed with epilepsy my parents clubbed together (as they always did) to make my life manageable and to make me understand that whatever happened to me condition or not that I was loved. They nurtured me and were always there for me when I needed advice. Both were entirely separate entities.
My mother was the worrier however she was the most independent as she had to be financially stable from an early age. She worked full time and taught me that there was never a problem that couldn’t be solved. My father was to the point. He wouldn’t hold back and was always there for me as a father should be. My dad never left my side and always tried to instil that self defence mechanism in my head so that I would remain bully free and care free on occasion.
When I was diagnosed I got this thought into my head that I was going to show others that irrespective of having epilepsy I was going to do well. I was going to be academic and successful. To hell with everyone else it was my way or the highway. Unfortunately this caused more bother than what it was worth.
What I should of done is take each day as it comes however I chose not to. I blamed everything that went wrong in my life on my condition as this was something that had entered my life without my blessing and I hated it. It’s safe to say that I detested my condition. I didn’t like epilepsy and everything that came with it.
Talking about topics such as the above was uncomfortable.
My therapist’s pen would be going so fast I thought it was going to jump off the page. My therapist would ask questions that would make me cry particularly when the topic of my parent’s relationship was concerned and the aftermath of my seizures.
Like my epilepsy diary my therapist encouraged me to keep an in-depth account of my thought pattern.
She asked that I do this every time I felt anxious and asked that no matter what time in the day that I document my feelings. She asked me to summarise my feelings up into one word such as disappointment, hurt, worry. This would give us both an idea as to what feelings I was experiencing and how I could be helped.
To summarise the way you are feeling in one word I feel is extremely difficult as you have an array of emotions.
When I would return to see my therapist she could see that my condition was the biggest factor to overcome. She could see that I was too caring and was what she called a healer. I was someone who wanted to help everyone else however didn’t necessarily want to help myself. Deep down the passion was there to be happy however I was prepared to ensure everyone else met their goals before meeting my own. That was apparent to her and she made me see that although it would take time I would have to make that effort to put time aside for me.
Although I was taking medication and being extremely cautious when it came to my condition I had to live my life for me. It was about time I started caring for myself and not worrying about what others people thought.
As the weeks continued we both started to create an action plan that I must follow.
Before we could create that plan in writing we would have to delve further into my past. This was something I wasn’t looking forward to as I would have to go back to the age of 8 and to relive that first experience again.. Could I cope with going back or would it be easier this time around.. Who knows.