Through the Maze

I'm not really sure what I'm going to write about today. In the past, many of my blog entries have had a specific topic or theme, whereas today, I am merely feeling conversational or informative. So in no particular fashion, I shall let you, my reader, follow my train of thoughts through the maze. Sometimes we shall hit dead ends, or end up back where we began. Whether we will ever emerge, I have no idea.

I think I might be in over my head with schoolwork. I signed up for a full load of classes, but I think I have to drop my history class. I don't need it to graduate, and without it, I think I'd be much saner. Even without it I'm writing 3 papers a week, doing a ton of reading, working on several larger projects (it seems all of my professors decided to space out the final project over the entire semester, which is both good and bad), and trying to keep up with my job, my fiance, and my friends. Oh, and Martial Arts Club will be starting soon.

Part of me still has major anxiety issues. Because I feel overwhelmed with school, I get anxious or depressed. I start losing my optimism and only seeing the negative. I sometimes give myself mild panic-attacks and have to remember to breathe. I cry for no reason. Needless to say, I need to learn how to cope. All of this after only 2 days of classes is not a good start to the semester, but I'm hoping that as my options are limited (learn to deal with it or go insane) that I will be able to get a better grasp on the situation as time progresses.

Nina is probably leaving after this semester. She's going back to Wisconsin. She wants to get into a music program at the University in Madison. She misses her friends from high school and her family. I can't really blame her for wanting to go, but the selfish part of me wants to know what's going to happen to me when she's gone. She's pretty much my only friend. Who I am going to hang out with? My other friends are limited friends- I only hang out with them on certain occasions or under certain circumstances. Nina... nina I can call anytime for no reason whatsoever. I will miss her if she goes.

I saw a play today. It was called 'My Name is Rachel Corrie', and it's about a young woman who died in the middle east while working as a peace activist. The play itself was a series of monologs- excerpts from her diary entries, etc- but parts of it really got to me. She kept asking how the world could be so awful, and how people who are privileged can really be so blind to the suffering of others. One of the quotes was "I was embarrassed at just how long it took me to understand, deep in my gut, that people LIVE like this" (in reference to poverty and war-zone activity). Other parts of it spoke to me in different ways, and I definitely could identify with the main character. She went to small liberal arts college, always felt like a bit of an outsider from her middle-class suburban family, fell in love with the world around her, and never quite felt satisfied. She was always looking for something worthwhile, and didn't find it until she journeyed to Israel. Once she found it, she died for it.

It might be selfish of me to think of this martyrdom story and somehow figure out a way to tie it into my issues pertaining to epilepsy, but that's where my thoughts went, and as I mentioned previously, I'm not holding anything back; into the maze we go. She said she didn't understand how people could live their lives and not understand another person's perspective. She didn't understand how the world could go on as it did, blind to the trials and suffering of so many. She felt isolated from her family and friends, not being able to explain her feelings about the sights and experiences that surrounded her every day.
I don't understand how people with epilepsy can have multiple seizures a day. I can't imagine it. It's so foreign to me, trying to think that I've had 2 in the last 2 months, and that's a big deal. I can't even fathom dealing with it every day. And I know, the world is not blind to the suffering of people with illnesses, but if there is anything I have learned, it is that when the rest of the world moves on and confronts the next big thing, those who are directly affected will never be the same, and can never look at anything the same way again. I am ok with most of the world being blind to epilepsy and my issues- it's really not that huge of a deal, and I understand that- but it has become such a huge part of my life and my thoughts, that I can't imagine trying to go back to a world where I don't have to wear my retainer to bed as protection against biting my tongue off.

The part of the play that struck closest to home though was the isolation aspect. The fact that no matter how hard she tried, no matter what anyone said, no matter what her counter-arguments were, she could not make people understand. She tried to tell her mother about her experiences living with Palestinians and how horrible their living conditions were, and her views of the political atmosphere. The truth is, there is no way her mother could understand without being there too. I try to tell my family what it is like to have no memory of 2008. I try to tell them how scary it is to get lightheaded, or to wake up having bitten my tongue. I try to tell them that there is absolutely no logical reason for the irrational fear that sometimes grips me so hard that I can barely breathe. They nod and hug me and pretend to get it, but at the end of the day, they still ask me what's wrong, and what's scary. They don't get it. It's like being split in half every time it happens. I have a logical part of me that says "it's ok, this happens all the time, there is NOTHING to be afraid of" but when most people can let logic overrule their fear, I can't. Something is electro-chemically altered in my head that even though I recognize the logical argument, I am not capable of not be terrified.

Sometimes, I hear voices. I don't think I've ever told anyone that part. Sometimes, when I'm talking, the world slows down, and I can't finish my sentence. I don't recognize the words coming out of my mouth. I can hear the things people are saying, but the information doesn't sink in. I can repeat what they say, but cannot comprehend it if an answer is needed. Subtle sounds in the background suddenly fill my head. I feel like I'm underwater, and everything is muffled. And sometimes, just sometimes, I hear voices. Not crazy voices; usually very random voices, like excerpts from a television show or movie, or a part of a conversation I heard earlier that day. I'm afraid to tell people I hear voices, because then people might think I've truly gone insane. Who knows, maybe I have.

But my whole point is, how is it possible to make anyone understand what it's like to be me? I've given up hope on actually getting anywhere. Instead, I just sit here and blog away. No one reads this anyway, but it helps to get everything out in the open. I would write in my diary, but typing is faster, and even though I know no one reads this, I secretly hope that someone will. Maybe, if I keep trying long enough, maybe if I keep talking to everyone and no one, just maybe, someone will hear, and just maybe, someone out there can begin to understand.