The Fairytales We Tell Ourselves

I was lucky enough to be flown to Vegas this weekend to visit with my nuclear family to celebrate something far more than 7 years in the making, but 7 years that we were definitely looking at: My father’s obtaining his license as a doctor of osteopathic medicine!

That’s right, dear readers, my daddy is now not only a lawyer but a doctor! He totally rocks!

But, much as I wish it were, this is not a blog about bragging about your family. It’s one about life with MS and a seizure disorder… and unfortunately for everybody who was ready to throw down in true party fashion, the heat in that town was over 105, my heat sensitivity was out of control, and I had IV-SM corticosteroids less than a week before the visit, so they were still coursing through my system. Needless to say, this lead to a visit that was not big on dignity.

There were seizures; there was spontaneous vomiting; and at one point, I’m pretty sure I had an out of body experience where I witnessed my own head spin around backwards while I spit up pea soup….wait no, that was the Exorcist. I just was acting like I needed one because *BOOM* out of nowhere, a trigger hit, and I was a total psycho at and after breakfast on Saturday morning because of the ‘roids and post-traumatic inability to handle myself. I was a mess and a half.

I think every child, at some point, sells themselves a fairytale about what their life will be like that’s based on the life or the story of someone else, but life’s not like that, you know? If there’s anything that puts that fact in your face CONSTANTLY, it would have to be a seizure disorder and MS together, because you just *never* know what you’re going to get. And anytime you get excited, sometimes it’ll work out, and sometimes it won’t. But every time you get worried, you can guarantee, it will fuck up any plans of going out and having a good time.

So I’m at this point in my life where it’s ok to be excited about something, or happy, but not ok to be worried. *lol* So it’s a great time to plan a wedding as long as no one is on my ass about it. And so far, nobody really has, which has been pretty magic.

You’d think, based on what I’d written up there, that I’d had a horrible weekend with my family — but truth be told, it ended up being really good, because despite that awfulness, tantrum and all, they wanted me to stay and they wanted me to talk about whatever was upsetting me. My family showed me, even if it wasn’t always in a way that I understood or appreciated in the moment, that they love me… that all 3 of them will love me even if I lose my mind.

And I’m scared of that. Honestly, there are times where I am. But I’m more afraid of not reaching out to them in the moments when I do feel like I’m actually myself again to let them know that I was still in there when the immaturity was happening.

So for Dad to want his celebration weekend to be spent almost entirely in the house was almost entirely on my account. But I appreciate the hell out of it.

I think there was more that I was trying to say in there… but this is what came out. They reminded me that just by being me, and just by doing the things I do, I make a difference.

And that’s not a fairytale.

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