My Three Headed Bat Baby and I

I don't like feeling...
I don't like being told what to do. (Well, maybe not ENTIRELY true, but that's between me and the coffee pot, as it were.)  Of late, I've had... A little more than a week to myself. For the month. No one's fault... I enjoyed time with friends and family. May is a month when I need to be out and not thinking. (Not stinkin' thinkin', anyway.)

 I'd like the pleasure of hating my apartment. I don't like it, but I feel oddly affectionate towards it. Sort of like when I would see News of the World on the magazine racks... God, I miss that horrid paper- with the garish 40-point headline: "Camilla Parker-Bowles gives birth to three-headed bat baby!" 
And I'd look at the terrible image and smile to myself. Maybe it was the baby's six jug ears and rather surprised expression. "You're so ugly, you're cute!" A small part of me would croon.

Where was I going? Before I decided to wax poetic on a terrible "newspaper"?

But I took on too much, in the middle of a reaction to a new dose of an AED, around Mother's Day, and with situations I know more about than I should.

I can concentrate again. Somewhat.
Here and there I have a face palm moment and have to remind myself that I promised not to face palm until I saw stars.

The walking is helping. I have to use parking lots... Thankfully, there's quite a lot of interconnected lots around here.
The dancing helps. It's not pretty, but it's effective and I don't indulge what ifs. 
And that's what it's all about, Charlie Brown.

You, and Me, and a Mutant Named Toots

Epilepsy...
Strange moments we'll never remember in this life or the next. Strange moments we'll remember, and not fondly. Then there's those unexpected bursts of sunshine. Support from strange places. The dark, gallows humor that develops. The very silly humor that develops. At the beginning, I took the myriad doctors' appointments with seriousness. I'd never snark at a doctor- heavens no!
  Or remark, in a very serious, dramatic tone, to the EEG tech, "And now, the mummification procedure commences". I wouldn't have been ready in 2004. The snarker in 2015 who has a giggle when looking out the window during a very long wait, and spies a lit up sign at a nut factory next door, and lo and behold, it reads, "Nuts are our business."- I wouldn't have gotten it, then. I wasn't ready. I was serious. I was 21 and wanted to go outside and play and this weirdo with the fake Texas accent telling me that I couldn't marry or have children, and later, more... Well, for a little while, I took him seriously. I became depressed. I did things I shouldn't. But gained as well as I lost. I thought I was a bad, worthless, person who was hard to love. I had been injured, I hurt, and rather than helping, I was getting lectured and frightened out of my wits! And that doesn't help with episodes.

But ah, the good! The good outnumbers the bad. I learned to speak up for myself. I learned not to let others make my medical decisions for me. I learned to walk out when treated like I was less than crap. How dare I be sad, scared and frustrated? Be a good girl, we know best!

Realizing that I'm capable. That I do have a mouth on me and know how to use it. That I've survived and bumped up against things some would find too difficult. That opening my mouth and replying "Watch me!" When the dreaded words, "You can't" came along. (I might have been accidentally inspired by former PM of Canada, Pierre Trudeau. I'll be pirouetting behind a beloved figure of state next. Beth, be careful on the stairs, there's a knob at the end--- ooh!)

I felt like a mutant. As in, X-Men. 

I  asked how I thought I was a mutant,some time last year. I thought about it. It's not much.

• Can, in a pinch, substitute as a space heater
• It can hurt like Hades, but I have survived things people think are impossible. And I came out, snarking. 
• I present as a mystery to friends and family. I realize now, it must not be too terribly difficult to love me, attitude problem and all.

Hair and nails grow at a tremendous rate. Not this tremendous, mind.

There's a longer list.

I sometimes have trouble feeling like a human, let alone a lady, but I work at it.
Do I have any magical words of wisdom? Ohh... Toughie. Let me steal from a friend and try, "Don't be sad, be awesome." Yep. I think that works.

From Allegorically Speaking- Thanks! :)

I made my own mutant (just for fun), and, while I think less is more when it comes down to eye makeup, I'm not indifferent to this look. I call this mutant, Toots. Pronounced like a 1940s detective flick.
She's a lady, and she's fiery. She's--- ME! And I am awesome and never allowed to forget it.
One more word of wisdom: (or phrase) You're awesome. Yeah, you. Now, go forth and do that thing.

Tips and Tricks : Wherein Beth Loses Her Girly Girl Card

Safety & epilepsy. "Lil' Mizz Independence" was meant to be mean, but I thanked the person. I AM stubborn, I'm an absolutely awful patient. I like doing things MY way. This could just be what 32 years has taught me. But, basic tips. Even if you're a stubborn 'un, like me, it will do you good to remember: Check bathroom lighting. Showering in the dark is very bad. I almost drowned in the shower in the LIGHT. REPLACE early and often. The Chicago Lighting System™. I like the GE Reveal® bulbs- energy saving and with blue light instead of that weird yellow. Use a microwave if you feel too sick. Don't fall asleep making rice on the stove. If you feel something coming, eat, but use the evil microwave.

We are NOT saying, "HK is evil." HK is lovely. This just doesn't capture her at her best. Courtesy Sanrio®& Hello Kitty Hell

For more tips, please see: Living Independently with Epilepsy, Epilepsy Foundation, Pennsylvania

• Slip proof bath mats that don't easily fold up, and are easy to wash in the wash machine
• Extra light bulbs. Always. 
• Surround yourself with what calms you. If it works, work it. In my case, slowing down, and laying back to watch a projector turtle and/ or octopus- I call my pair Toby and Octavius, respectively, project tiny stars on the ceiling is a big help. I also have a giraffe named George that plays white noise or tiny, chirpy jungle animals for 25 minutes along with a gentle bongo drum. And I have a 32 year old stuffed skunk named Flower that gives me warm fuzzy memories. 
• Meditation. Even if you're not going full-yogi, taking a minute to breathe can help a lot. 
• But it's ok not to be apologetic if you're cut off. It's ok to be timid when testing the big, weird world, but you have to delve deep for your fire. Your reasons. And fight if you must. Don't be a mouse. Feel free to say that's not ok, and don't worry about breathing that away.

Remember that, among other things, stress is horrible for everyone. Don't worry about what other people say. You do what works for you. If it works, work it, baby. It's not what John, Ringo and Paul can do... Or George. It's what you're doing. You.