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.