Therapy was coming to a close and I was prepared for what life had in store. The CBT I had just undergone was marvellous to say the least. I was content. I knew I needed to grasp life with both hands and I was in a position where I was feeling comfortable.
Therapy was something I committed myself to for five months. Therapy had become a part of my life, I mean I had it in my life for over 5 months. Like my medication I was in a routine with it. I had included therapy into my journey and it was extremely difficult to break away from it when the day came.
There is a saying that makes me question my own actions.. that saying is:
Look at your problems as problems and they’ll continue to hold you down. See them as blessings in disguise and that’s what they will truly become.
My final session with my therapist was one that would be memorable. She sat me down with the same questionnaire I had completed six months previous. The scores had diminished and I was in the “normal” worry category.
For someone who was due to get married in a week’s time this was a positive thing. My outlook on life had changed in 5 months. I couldn’t be arsed with the concerns my seizures had to offer. I couldn’t be bothered with the worry. I had worried for over 19 years and I was in a position where I was physically tired, drained in fact.
I always advise others that life is what you make it. Unfortunately there are going to be occasions where you are not in control whether that be because you have been made redundant at work or a seizure had arrived at the worse time imaginable. You are in control of your own destiny to a degree. As Tom Hanks said in Forrest Gump. Life is like a box of chocolates you never know what you’re gonna get. Whatever chocolates you do get you have to accept.
Life is like a rollercoaster. You’ve just got to ride it unfortunately. It has it’s ups and downs however that’s just the way it is, that’s to be expected. You can’t pretend to be someone you’re not because then you’re only fooling yourself and that’s not the way you should be.
Never kid a kidder. I know this because I have tried it numerous times before and it gets you nowhere. The best thing to do is to just be you. If the people you perceive as friends don’t wanna come along for the ride then they were never friends at all. They aren’t worth your tears.
My parents and I used to joke on and say that Epilepsy came my way because I was the only one in the family strong enough to cope with it. Maybe they were saying this at the time to make me feel better however looking back it’s commendable for a parent to try and take that worry off a child’s shoulders. They did that because they knew deep inside they couldn’t control what was happening to me. It was the only thing that they couldn’t make better with a dose of medicine.
The wedding day came and I was in a complete mess. I hadn’t slept a wink all night and I was reading my epilepsy diary to see how far I’d come.
I was running around stupidly around the home. I was tense. The only time I was ever this tense was when I was convulsing or shaking. The thought of being a Mrs dawned on me that I was now an adult. I wasn’t a child anymore. The thought of this hit me like a ton of bricks. An adult? I felt like a teenager not an adult getting married. This was absurd. It was made even more realistic when I was looking at myself in the mirror, wedding dress on and medication in the side pocket of my dress.
I decided to wait until after the wedding to consult neurology and ask that my medication be reduced. After deliberation with my partner I decided that we would wait till after the honeymoon and then consider making that important change. I had been fortunate to go two years seizure free and I thought it was necessary to walk down this new road. If I was going to be a Mrs then I wanted to make other changes in my life to, the main one being my medication.
The wedding went swimmingly well. For all those who are following Sazzle’s blog on twitter you will have already seen the picture on my twitter page of my husband and I laughing on that unbelievable day. The sun was shining, it was one of the hottest days of the year in the UK and I felt blessed to have my husband, family and friends all there to celebrate this momentous occasion.
My husband decided before my walk down the red carpet ( we got married in a hotel not a church) that he play the theme tune of Jaws as an icebreaker for all guests. You guessed it the “der der der der” – my rendition of the jaws music. The cheek of him!! I saw the funny side of it.
Everyone in the room was in hysterics because that song represented the upheaval in my life. I was a nightmare when I was angry and quite (I emphasise the word quite) bossy on the build up to the wedding. No bridezilla though.
Therapy had been a success and one I would recommend to all. With therapy you have to go in with a blank canvas. With the remaining space you have the freedom to draw a small picture and realising that you have to come to an agreement with yourself to be satisfied with your lot. The goal is to accept yourself and to appreciate that life is precious whether you have a condition or not.
With therapy you are allowed to return within a year should you have growing concerns about your anxiety. I didn’t want to return to my therapist as I thought I was cured.
The worry was would this anxiety return after the wedding day.
The honeymoon was a place for my husband and I to go back and look at what we had achieved in such a short space of time. We were both adjusting to a life together. The one thing that would make an ugly appearance every now and again was my negativity towards my condition when I was feeling sick, tired or having my shaking episodes.
Once the wedding was over I had time on my hands. I had pre-empted what was going to happen next. I would start worrying again only this time it wasn’t a small lapse it was a one that I couldn’t kick myself out of. This was not my therapist’s fault that I was in this frame of mind. She had given me the tools to do the job. Unfortunately I was so wrapped up in being positive that I thought I would never come down from cloud nine. I wasn’t being realistic with myself. You can’t be happy all of the time.
I didn’t want to see this therapist I wanted to tackle my worries myself however this wasn’t going to be easy. Was I worrying because I had gone seizure free for so long? Who knows. All I knew was that I just knew that I wasn’t prepared to watch myself crumble again. After 3 months of beating myself up I introduced someone new into my life, this person would so happen to be another therapist I was introduced to at work.
This man was a person who took CBT to a brand new level, this man was someone who would give me the guts to stand up to my epilepsy once and for all. A man telling a woman what was wrong with her? I was unsure. Would he be as effective as my last therapist?
Like my previous therapist this person specialised in CBT too however had a reputation for being to the point. I didn’t want a re lapse of my old neurologist asking if I enjoyed being epileptic.
This new therapist was renowned for being successful and making people feel good about themselves however was told that the six weeks therapy I would undergo with him would be the hardest 6 weeks of my life.
Was this too good to be true? Was it really going to be so difficult? All I knew was that people had recommended this therapist to me. He was the only person who in the medical profession who really stood out. He was a one who would ask me questions far deeper than my previous therapist.
Could this man give me the talking to that I really needed? Could he be the one who would stop my anxiety once and for all?
Let’s just wait and see.