The Return To Innocence

From Facebook, because I am very tired:

-So, here I am in my little hotel style room at an official neurology sleep center. My tech, Peter, is sweet and funny. I even have a big shiny red button to press when I need him. It's in a pack attached to my waist. My head is wrapped in gauze. Electrodes are hooked to my skin and wires are trailing at my feet. Adam took a picture. Go see!
The bathroom has a shower with a chair!

-LOL, gauze and sexy electrodes.
The reason for all this is because my neurologist is concerned about the several seizures per month. Hence, a ten hour EEG study. I get naps and Adam brings food. And when it's all done, the doctors will see if anything significant happened. Even if I don't have any seizures, this is a good move. For SCIENCE.

-Adam is bringing me lunch. And then, more specific tests will happen. Probably another nap? Apparently, the EEG has not shown any seizure activity. I haven't even needed to push the shiny red button yet, which amuses the technician.

-All done. I need a shower and a nap. Adam will take me home and then I'll wait for the neurologist to call. I'm actually disappointed that I never generated any seizure activity. It makes me doubt my brain.

-The days when you're just too exhausted to get back up and shampoo out the electrode goo from your hair. I'm just going to take a little nap. Then I'll get that shower. Just a little nap.
(Spoilers: I slept for one hour and took a really long shower with like three shampoos and two conditioners.)

Oh, Okay. That was very, very quick. Oh, that was less than a minute. So much energy, so much chemical screaming. Oh, Oh damn. My head is pounding. My fingers can't stop flying over this keyboard. I should go to bed. Oh.
Complex partial seizures are fascinating. Complex partial seizures that secondary generalize into Tonic Clonic seizures are even more fascinating and are rather grotesque. No wonder people were terrified in the past.
I remember grasping the leather chair arms to stop my body from catapulting away. I remember being aware of my mind, but not my body, as I watched my body from a window in my mind. I flailed and spasmed and strained and convulsed gently against the chair, and I fought gravity like a woman possessed. I was completely silent. My hair was flying all over my face. My body had no choice. Something had to release. Like a taut wire snapping. My wrists had strained from working to help my fingers stay gripped on the chair arms.
Things are painful now. Too tense. Tiny spasms now.
Oh, epilepsy. I do not appreciate you at all. Nope.



Also, I am technically okay. Postictal state has left me drained, exhausted, weak, tired, foggy, floating somewhere between hungry and not hungry.
I'm glad I wrote it down. The seizure, I mean. Sometimes I remember better.

Stretching, stretching. Massages. I don't remember what else.
Well, er. At least the ligaments in my knees feel less tight?
Also, seizure fogginess blended with fibromyalgia fogginess makes Joanna something something.

Also, according to my blog records, this was the first seizure in three months, so, hey, that's good.

http://m.livejournal.com/read/user/brightlotusmoon/tag/being%20alice

Yeah, well.

Um. So.
Last night I had a small seizure - awake but barely conscious. And the baby migraine kept pulsating. I forced myself to sleep. I woke up at noon with the migraine even worse. And the thunder rolled.

The seizure itself was pitch black. It had me moving through a completely moon-less woods, holding the hands of two people - Alicia and Ananta - and stumbling over things, which transferred agony into my skull. I was shaking. They kept saying, Just a little more, just ahead, it's a rose light, you'll recognize it...
And there it was like a rosy mist with light inside. At the last minute, Ananta picked me up and carried me directly into the mist. That is all I remember.

I wound up staying in bed for an hour, because Calliope kept vocalizing, nuzzling and bunting me, and settling in to nurse on my shirt. I know she loves me deeply, but I must ask the cat behaviorists here what it means to be truly, actually loved by your cat, because Calliope will not go to bed until I go to bed, Calliope will follow me around the house, Calliope will check on me just to make sure I exist.

After I fell out of bed and took my medications (baclofen, tramadol, codeine, coffee, omega-3, MSM, L-Tyrosine, probiotics, inositol, shilajit, ashwagandha, noni, mangosteen, devil's claw, magnesium oil massaged into the severe stiff burning screaming lower back).

I am not fooled. I may be upright, typing. But I am having moments in which I need to breathe, collapse in the chair and massage my head. This will be a very interesting afternoon. Luckily, I have DVRed Archer, Bitten, Being Human, Lost Girl, etc. Just in case.
Is it sad that I want Ray and Lana to be my nursemaids?

My modified Disablility Compensated Qi Gong exercises always help, mentally and spiritually and psychologically and physiologically. Like yoga, except Fake Yoga Cripple Style that is not actually yoga. (FYCS. FIX. Ha ha ha...) (Or hey, Fake Yoga Cripple Style Modified Exercise. FYCSME = FIX ME. Ha ha. Wow. Dude.)

But it isn't helping today. I'm too Hollow, which is my term for deep major depression. I'm too Postictal, after that unexpectedly awful seizure yesterday and its aftershock which were tiny seizures for hours. Emotional responses are foreign and results of emotion are mere symptoms, like crying and laughing. I will meditate again, do more qigong work, and breathe and much as possible.
FYI. I am having an episode of pure major Depression plus major Anxiety. This is accompanied by mild memory loss of the past two days. Everything is foggy. I know I should be upset about something, but I cannot feel upset. What is upset, anyway? I think I hurt myself emotionally yesterday. I wish I remembered what it was. I believe it started out with false happiness. Remember that weird assumption of some sort of hypomania? I think I was outside of my rational mind.

Back to special exercises.
People keep suggesting and recommending breathing exercises. I know all of that. I know people just want to share their personal remedies. I love it. Please don't think I am rejecting you. I love hearing your stories. Even the stories about yoga. I wish I could explain why just seeing or hearing the word yoga evokes a sad, upset reaction. It isn't that I am unable to do yoga. It is just that yoga extremists do not listen nor care about my need for compensation. My body was born crooked. I cannot form a proper straight line even if I held on to something. No amount of cajoling, insisting, or pushing different forms will change that. Please don't do that. Please just accept that I have to perform qi gong differently, and that qi gong included poses that are similar to yoga, and that yoga is not the greatest panacea of healing holistic practices. This is part of why I don't want to visit California, which makes absolutely no sense and makes me look prejudiced.

So. Please, please do talk about how much yoga is healing you, because that is beautiful and I am genuinely, honestly joyfully happy. But if you wish to suggest a yoga pose that can be modified for someone with a shaky, spastic, crippled body, please suggest an alternate form. That is all I ask. There is no such thing as a real panacea, even in the botanical world, even in the plant and herb world, and certainly not in the exercise world. It is entirely possible that I will find a set of yoga exercises that will really, truly help me, and I will join the ranks of yoga enthusiasts. Anything is possible. Nothing is off limits. Except evangelism. If I wanted something pushed down my throat, I will drink water mixed with special fruit and plant powders, like sea buckthorn and moringa.
This is coming from my years as a holistic enthusiast and pusher. I was bad. I was essentially an asshole. And then I learned that it was just wrong. I never want to do that again. Just because something works perfectly for me does not mean it will work at all for someone else.

Any form of good physical-spiritual combination exercise, be it yoga, qigong, taichi, strength training, cardio, dead lift weight, isometrics, plyometrics, dance, hardcore dance, etc, is wonderful and beautiful and strengthening, and will help everyone in some personal powerful way. That is the point of exercise.
I love you all. If you really want to help me, don't push me. Just guide me.

I had a seizure yesterday, recorded it on Facebook, and now must copy it it here, since I always do.

Soo, electric pain and spasticity are now preceding simple partial seizures, previously called auras, which lead to complex partial seizures, hey? Brain, you are awesomely bizarre. But we knew that. Long story short, cerebral palsy and fibromyalgia and epilepsy like to team up. BRB, fighting a seizure, probably not winning. See you all in a few minutes.

The sound of one hand striking a keyboard whilst electricity, burning, floods the semi-paralyzed other half of the body, spastic hemiplegia indeed... hypertonia, ataxia, except the brain has no pain receptors. so why is it burning, I laugh.
I have never been to space until now. Some place in space anyhow. My chair became a shuttle. My copilots were my human coping mechanisms called imaginary friends, yes I know the difference between reality and fiction, my girls are fiction, and if you think I don't understand, oh my you are badly mistaken, and how dare you assume, no wait, that was from a blog post comment thread, never mind.
There were so many stars, I think, at least shining spots far off in that darkness. There were nebulas everywhere. So much color. Maybe it was another dimension? I have never seen outer space like this.
Amara and Alicia held my hands the whole time. Alicia has broken away from the Wonderland force fields to interact with the rest of my brain. This means something neurologically, I think. She is now taking on more than just epilepsy. Oh. I see now. Thank you, Alicia.
I'm so tired now. But I must finish this. It is fading. NO.
I was in my own head, going ninety-nine percent light speed, felt like thirty-five miles an hour, that was a Futurama joke, I don't care if you are sick of my Futurama quotes, bite me. And then, and then, that prismatic explosion of every color blending into white, since that is how white is created, and a howling noise like a perfect wind screaming through alleys, and I was sliding off my chair save for my hands clawing grasping at the leather padded chair arms and my lungs were sucking in air and my lips were chapped and my mouth was dry and my neck hurt and I was shaking.
And Jupiter was meyowling. He is still meyowling. I have to go see what he wants.
You know those dreams where you wake up and realize you are still dreaming? No, I stopped, but it took a moment. My eyes were still open.
I am still open.

And now I must perform intricate physical therapy stretching qigong dance moves to force my left side to function. Love you too, epilepsy. Here comes a Soma pill to begin muscle relaxing and a Klonopin pill to begin mental relaxation. Go!

Update, December 11: Still postictal, but incredibly positive. Light-hearted, even. I feel like dancing.

Day after seizure with migraine:
Still working through recovery from seizure and migraine.
Allergies and fibromyalgia flare not helping.
I shall go read books and watch cartoons!

I really must post more here.
I've been in a depressive episode, one that now includes a postitctal state.
Feeling truly alive and worthy can be difficult.
Bah.
I'll work through it and past it. I always do.
Everything hurts. Pain is concentrated in my skull, my face, and my neck. It is hard to lie still with my eyes closed.
Luckily I have many different treatments, yay.
Maybe tomorrow I can really start the second novel as more than outlines. I still need a title. The title "Glass Lotus" is still among the top choices. I still need to research paranormal contemporary nontraditional urban fantasy novels featuring LGBTQU characters with disabilities and superpowers. (Good luck, Jo.)
At least I am eating.

You know it is a bad day when...

A Cerebral Palsy induced fall against carpeted stairs leads to a Complex Partial Seizure which leads to a Panic Attack with wild animal sobbing so intense your partner comes up and worries to death over you and carefully leads you to a couch and gives you water and holds you.

"It's just stairs," you tell yourself over and over. "You can maneuver them. It's just stairs." And at the top, exhausted by victory, you lay on the floor, weak as a new kitten, heart and head pounding to near bursting, crying until it sounds like laughing. And maybe all you can do in that horrific posictal state is laugh. On the inside. Because Epilepsy is a monster and has no qualms about gaining allies.
Now it is time for Fibromyalgia to have its turn. Burn body burn.

I am so tired. I have no more synonyms for exhausted, fatigued, beaten, weakened. I am done.
But I will never stop. If I cannot be myself I will be a dragon.

For those who know my Healthy Multiplicity: indeed, Alicia and Amara were like drill sergeants in my mind. They were the only things that kept me climbing those mountainous stairs. I love my human coping mechanisms.
Typing doesn't make me tired ever. And this must be written.



So... *cough*
I am okay. But I am not okay at all. So many painful things are inside my brain and my body.
It is okay to talk about that, right? To be not okay? To try to pretend to be okay?
See, that is why I love online friendships. Because if I cannot speak without bursting into stuttering wild sobbing, I can type slowly and people will understand. Right? Oh, my everything hurts.
I could say I have a muscle pain, or a joint pain, or a migraine... but I have everything pain everywhere. And I don't know how to explain it without it coming across as "My pain is worse than yours!" and I don't want to do that. Because all pain is horrible. My pain is no worse than yours. Pain is pain is pain.
I don't know what to say. My brain is so everywhere. I feel so split open and raw and drifting. I think some of the things keeping me together are my fictional characters, who still demand their stories.
I want to sob and scream and howl until I am so raw that I cannot speak. Is that okay? I can do that, right? Nobody will bitch at me for complaining, right? I just don't know. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to feel. Fear is something that feels flat but understandable. Like am emotion I am aware of but unable to truly experience in a deep true way. Like crying. It is a thing that is happening. I just feel confused. Why do I feel?
You know?

Oh, yes. The seizure. Oh, Alicia. She appeared to me so quickly, so fiercely, I had no choice but to grab her outstretched hand and run with her. She yelled, "Come with me now! You need to get through the looking glass! There is no time! Amara is waiting! Serena is waiting! Go, go, go!" and she almost shoved me through the portal, and all I remember is Amara catching me in her arms... Amara with her truly calico hair and her stormy eyes of deep purple and darkest blue and pure gold, her short slim muscled hourglass body that held me in an iron grip, my mouth against her olive-colored neck, and our tumble to a cavern floor that was lit with sunlight and moonlight, so I could see her properly, how she was only a few inches taller than me, her mouth pouty and full, her oval face the dream of every American woman in a plastic surgeon's office, her straight teeth bared in strain. She got to her feet gracefully and looked down at me and said in the voice of temple bells, "Rest now. Serena will be here soon. I've never fully introduced myself, but that can wait. We have so much time."
I shook my head. "Alicia said there was no time--"
Amara smiled and entranced me. "Only in her dimension. Here, there is every time. I am everlasting, after all. I love and guard your entire mind and brain, remember? I work with my sister, Amber, who encases everything in your varied forms of spirit and soul and energy and power. Alicia and Serena are limited. Amber and I are unlimited. We shall be with you until the end of everything. You hurt badly. I sense it. Serena will be here in a moment. I will stay with you."
I stared at her. "I've never known you until now. I love you."
"Yes. You were meant to. I am the culmination of your neurology, your neurochemistry, your biochemistry, the stuff in your head that help make you the things that are you. A Self. A Mind. A Brain. I change as you need to change. I will always be here."
Amara my immortal began to slowly fade, and Serena came running. She gathered me in her arms and murmured soothing words, and suddenly I felt as calm and as safe as I ever could.
And then I awoke, and I was a person climbing the stairs.
And I climbed the stairs, sobbing and forcing myself, and at the top of the stairs I lay crying, and then my husband found me and helped me to my work couch and gave me water, and I couldn't talk about my girls, but it was all right. I would be all right.

If you are with me in person, and I suddenly yell out and fall to my hands and knees and scream, do not be alarmed. Gently help me stand and help me to a soft place to recline. I may be unable to speak properly, and I may be unable to remember certain things. I may lick or bite my lips, I may scratch myself or pull my hair or vocalize oddly. Take me in your arms and say comforting words. If I start crying, let me cry. Tell me everything is all right. Kiss me gently on the forehead. Offer me tepid water, or coconut water, or juice, or tea. I will need to be hydrated. If I get up and start stumbling around, take my hand and follow me. If I head toward a bathroom, help me in; I will most likely be able to take care of things on my own, as it will be a very automatic process. When I am done, lead me back to the couch, chair, bed, etc. Continue to hold me or hold my hand. I may be very dysphasic and emotional. I may also be very empathic, so do your best to stay calm, with a good bedside manner. Offer me foods like fruits, crunchy bacon, pastries, dairy, vegetables, protein. No bread; I might choke.
If I start speaking oddly in a very intense manner, it may be due to one of my spirit guides helping me speak. Serena, Amara, or Amber, since Alicia can't speak outside the rabbit hole, looking glass, and Wonderland forest that directly affects my epilepsy. Serena helps me through chronic pain and fatigue. Amara helps me through any psychological distress such as anxiety, depression, and fear. Amber monitors my entire consciousness and soul. There are reasons they are named their names. These guides are fictional characters I created long ago, characters who took on their own "personalities" to become a sort of overall coping mechanism. While Serena and Alicia remain deep inside my psyche, Amara or Amber may speak through me and alongside me to work my mouth and voice if needed. You see, Amara and Amber have been with me in various forms since I was born; my brain created them in my intense creative imagination as purely fictional ways of coping with my life. Serena and Alicia came later, as ways to continue fueling that creativity. These girls are not real, but they are certainly helpful.
After I am affected by a seizure, I may also be affected by various complexities from spastic ataxic cerebral palsy: fibromyalgia, sensory processing disorder, synesthesia, hypersensitivity, ADHD Inattentive and Over-Focused Types, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, hypertonia, hemiparesis, hemiplegia, severe anxiety or even actual panic, problems speaking and moving, drooling and possible gasps, choking sounds, or odd vocalizations, memory disintegration, spasms, emotional outbursts. Try to not be surprised. This is technically normal for me. You can ask me questions and I may reply one way or another
Complex partial seizures via temporal lobe epilepsy are different for most epileptics. For me, having cerebral palsy, these seizures can be extremely fascinating and bizarre.
I will add that this all happened approximately an hour before I wrote this, and the main reason I was able to type this out was because Amber and Serena helped. My body and mind are both in an altered state. Reality is swimming right now. I just banged my arm against the wall, and the only reason I felt it was because of that part of my brain that is still processing the outside world.
Yes, please ask me questions of all kinds. Nothing is off limits. Speaking out helps me understand my own brain and my own intense neurology.


***
Edited to add:
I just got a really fascinating comment on Facebook since I copied this whole post there. I'm going to post the person's comment and then my comment. I'm still not sure what to think. Was I too harsh in my reply? Also, I still don't know what sort of point they were trying to get across:
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