So they told me I have a disorder. I found out at age 15, after having a six-minute complex partial seizure (the ones where you unconsciously stare off into space) while I was driving the whole family to church. I didn’t remember one moment of the drive. After tons of tests and scans the neurologists discovered I am epileptic, which has no sole cure. Three years later, my seizures are primarily under control with 2,400 milligrams of medicine a day. But these pills aren’t perfect. They have a wide range of side effects, from sodium deficiencies to depression. They cause a constant fatigue, and sleep deprivation is one of the easiest ways to trigger a seizure. I should ideally get somewhere from nine to ten hours of sleep a night, which, as you can imagine, is a struggle to accomplish as a college student. But enough of the boring stuff.

It was on my mind constantly. I didn’t know one other epileptic person. The world was so unfair. None of my friends had a “disease”; they were just happy go lucky 15 year olds worrying about getting dates to prom. Bu trying to explain it to people might have been the most frustrating part. The ignorance about epilepsy is astounding. I know is complicated and confusing, but come on, me being epileptic doesn’t mean I’m going to collapse at your feet and convulse and foam at the mouth. But worse than the ignorance was the pity. Everyone’s pity started to weigh me down, and I began to feel sorry for myself too. But then I overheard a conversation I wasn’t supposed to. All I heard was, “It could be worse, you could always be Lauren.” That’s the day I changed.

I decided that this battle wasn’t going to beat me. I started to adjust my attitude little by little. I told myself that each seizure was simply a step closer to figuring out what medication worked for me. I began to force a smile, and it became genuine. I was truly happy, despite my circumstances, for the first time in a while. I became significantly more mature in those six months. Although there were a numerous amount of tearful, angry breakdowns through this fight, I am a better person because of it. I have hit other bumps along the road the past three years, but after dealing with epilepsy it taught me how trivial some problems can be. I became more confident, because if I could fight epilepsy I sure as hell could deal with that C on a high school American History test.

My message here is this: don’t let whatever cripples you weigh you down. Let it enhance you. Learn everything you can from these struggles, and never give in to those guaranteed snags along the way. I have finally embraced my seizures with open arms and allowed them to influence me positively, and it has truly been the biggest blessing in my life.