Nightmare
realized: Last night I went to a small dinner party with friends. Thirty
seconds after entering their condo, I had a mild but long-lasting seizure. My
host, Robert, just amazed me; he kept hugging me and he gently kissed me on my
shoulder twice.
In Kamloops, a
seizure provoked nervous laughter from a server.
Living with
acute PTSD is provocative—people react to me when symptoms overtake me.
Otherwise I am just another neutral entity.
“Have a nice
day,” I am told far too many times a day. “How are you?” It’s a question I am
constantly asked by people who don’t really want an answer. We are awash in insincerity. But not when you
are different.
“Take care of
yourself.” “Go easy on yourself.” My condition prompts people to speak to me with
sincerity and originality. It’s moving and lovely.
When I display
symptoms people see me as a person. They see me as…. It is hard to know how
they see me. I’ve thought of many words with which to end that sentence:
flawed, broken, damaged or maybe sick. My condition has people see me as vulnerable;
in good people, it triggers an empathetic or compassionate response.
I live in a
friendlier gentler world due to my condition. It is not a bad thing.
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