Monday, February 3, 2020


April 8th, 2016 was a completely normal day. But when I woke up on April 9th, I could not talk and my life turned into a (mild) living hell: Up to twenty violent seizures a day and butchered speech. Three years and ten months later, I truly believe it’s virtually over. 
This morning, I took the ferry to Nanaimo and went shopping. I spoke fluently everywhere I went—even alone in the car. These are things I’ve been unable to do since that horrid day in April almost four years ago. 
I’ve talked frequently over the past few days with Telus and Lifeline because my phone line has been acting up. I talked to clerks and ferry personnel fluently in Nanaimo. I can do lots of things I haven’t been able to do since my breakdown. I realize that there may be hiccups ahead, but my fluency has been solid now for two weeks.
It occurs to me that there may be a connection between my recovery and stopping smoking marijuana daily. Marijuana is famously capable of inducing paranoia. Regardless of whether that’s a factor or not, I’m certain that my future is rosy. 
I thought I’d never get better. Twice, medical personnel said something to the effect that I would never recover. I took that to mean my symptoms would never stop, but I think they meant that my anxiety would never go away and I believe that. But something changed when Cathy called my episodes “indulgences.” 
She challenged me and I believe that helped me to understand these symptoms were capable of management—that I could fix myself. And here I am. Four years! Four years of recovery. And now here I am city-capable but living this island life with pets. 
What a trip I’ve been on!

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