Living My Life Without Support from Bio Family

Imagine waking up after a seizure and realizing everyone is staring at you.

You’re confused. Exhausted. Scared. Embarrassed. You’re trying to figure out where you are and what just happened, and all you really want is a little privacy and a chance to breathe.

I just had a seizure. I don’t need an audience. I need care. I need understanding. I need dignity. And I need space to recover.

Epilepsy doesn’t define who I am, but I would be lying if I said it hasn’t changed my life.

My journey with epilepsy started on December 21, 2023. It’s a day I will never forget, but in so many ways, I don’t remember it either. I remember my father-in-law and my husband waking me up, completely panicked, because I had my first seizure in the car on the way home. Then, I remember waking up in the hospital hours later.

That first Christmas, I spent in the hospital because I had another seizure.

Since then, I have been tubed twice before even turning 36. I’ve woken up in the hospital more times than I ever wanted to. I’ve experienced fear, confusion, frustration, and exhaustion in ways I never imagined I would.

I truly thought that once I started medication, things would get better. I thought maybe I could get back to feeling like myself and living what I considered a "normal" life.

But the medication failed me.

On May 11, 2025, I was diagnosed with medication-resistant epilepsy. Since then, I have been fighting tooth and nail to keep going, to keep working toward some sense of normalcy, and to be the wife, family member, and person I want to be.

And the truth is, I’m still having seizures.

Some days I make it through just fine. Other days are harder. There are days when I feel like I’m failing my family, even though deep down I know I’m not. I know they see me fighting. I know they understand that I didn’t choose this. And I know how incredibly lucky I am to have people who love me through the hardest parts of this.

What people may not see is what happens after the seizure. They don’t see the exhaustion. The fear of when the next one might happen. The frustration of losing pieces of time. The hospital visits. The uncertainty. The feeling of wondering if your own body is going to betray you again.

I’m still me. I’m still trying. I’m still living my life the best way I know how.

So if you ever see someone having a seizure, or waking up from one, please remember that they are a person—not a spectacle. Give them compassion instead of judgment. Give them privacy instead of an audience. Give them dignity instead of making them feel ashamed.

And if you’re reading this because you want to leave a negative or judgmental comment, please don’t.

This is my story. My life. My experience.

I’m sharing it because I want people to understand what it’s like to live with epilepsy while still trying to live a "normal" life.

I didn’t ask for this. But I’m doing everything I can to keep going. ❤️

I also live with SUDEP, but I am still here and that is what matters.

I may have no biological family members that EVER show up, but I have built an amazing family including my in-laws and my best friend. Without them who knows where I would be today.