So Close & Feeling So Far

The exciting moment is coming close, six months from having my last seizure. February 7th. Every time I’ve had an episode (as I call my seizures), I keep that moment in my brain. I mainly do it to help keep my memory stable. The unfortunate part, I don’t feel excited about the six month mark.

I don’t feel like it’s been six months because I still have the dreaded feeling, the feeling that I’m worn out and exhausted. The feeling of my body not being able to move. I don’t know what it’s like when I actually have an episode. I don’t have a warning sign when I’m going to have one, it just happens. I’ve been lucky that every time I’ve had one, someone close to me has been around or near to help me. But when I come back from the episode, I don’t even know what happened.

When I was diagnosed, the neurologist gave me a list of triggers that could help me from having an episode. As a mom, I looked at the list and chuckled. Oh less stress and more sleep? Probably not. No alcohol or strobes of lights? Welp, how will I adult without alcohol and an occasional movie? Not enough hydration. Check, check, check. I literally was a walking list of triggers. I did everything I was not supposed to do. And it caught up to me.

Now, they couldn’t give me a reason as to how I became an epileptic. But here’s a list and I can’t do these things I’ve been doing most of my adult life. As I started making changes, I started feeling so much better. I was losing weight, taking my meds, checking out hobbies and I was finally feeling like things were going to be “normal” again. But it’s been short lived. Luckily, I haven’t had an episode, but the lagging feeling of stress and overhaul always comes back.

There has to be a balance. This can’t be how life is forever. There has to be a better way. I just have to find it.

Xoxo,

Sunset

A Little Town in Texas

When I was four years old my mom moved us into a small country town, Needville, Texas. This was where I spent my childhood. I went from my mom’s house to my dad’s three miles down the road from her.

I hit my teenage years and wanted to be anywhere, anywhere but that little town. So at seventeen, I was gone. Then at eighteen, guess where I was? A little town called Needville. It was going to be home for me. It was where I knew I wanted my kids to go to school. Where I wanted to have a farm and live with my husband.

But that’s going quickly, I wanted to give you an insight on this little town. Needville is tradition. Needville is finding back roads late at night and getting lost because there’s no city lights and sometimes not even a street sign. But with little towns, come lots of problems. One major problem this town faces is that on the roads that aren’t considered “city limits”are roads that are unforgivable. What does that even mean you ask?

In January of 2012, I was on my way to work, my eighteen month son in the back ready to go to grandma’s. It was a road I took many of times coming from my dad’s house. It’s a road that everyone that has lived in Needville has traveled on at least once. Williams School Road. As a parent, you’re prone to try and multi task while driving. This morning, that’s exactly what I was doing. I was handing my son his cup and in the blink of an eye I hit the barely there shoulder. Panicking I went to get back on the road, only it was too late. My little car was already flipping over in a ditch. From what Sheriff’s officers told my dad, I flipped it at least three times. A fence eventually stopped the car. I was able to climb my way to Dominick and get us both out. It’s a day I’ll never forget. And the words that the police officer’s told me always replay in the back of my head “These roads are unforgivable.” Dominick had not a scratch on him, only the burns from the seat belt, thank gosh. I was able to walk away with bruises and some scratches. We were blessed. I always say my Grandfather (who passed away when Dominick was only a month old) was watching over us.

I was a lucky one. But others not so much. I’ve heard and seen so many accidents down this street. The road is narrow and there are big trucks, trailers and even dump trucks taking this road. How is it that Fort Bend County can continuously raise taxes and NOT fix the roads that actually need it? How many lives will have to be lost or severely impacted because of a road that isn’t as safe as it should be?

It’s time for the tax payers, the every day people, the moms and dads, uncles and aunts talk to our politicians and fight for a change. You could say this is small compared to other things going on in the world, you’re probably right. But this little town in Texas, it has a community that bands together in tough times. When someone passes away or is hurt, everyone is hurt. When our football team goes to State, we all go to State. We are a small Texas town and our roads needs to be taken care of. Stop putting all the money into freeways that our tearing our farmer’s lands. Stop allowing politicians to get away with not funding where it needs to be funded.

 

Thank you! 🙂

Please feel free to like, share and spread the word of our little town, Needville, Texas.