Interpreting my life to people who don't get it

I've had epilepsy a good 25 years, most of my adult life. Recently I finished a book about the moments I feel are left out of the public eye, but deserve more attention. Not our seizures, but the lives lived between them. The before and afters. A feeling of helplessness and confusion we so often experience. The "how the hell do I do this now". I wrote the book to address all of this from lived perspective, and I've included an excerpt from the first chapter below. Let me know what you think!

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Then something shifted.

It wasn't painful, and it wasn't sharp. It felt like a small internal drop, like I had missed a step I didn't see.

I kept holding the toothbrush. I stayed upright. I took a slow breath and tried to steady myself against the counter.

Instead of passing, the sensation spread.

My hand began to tremble. I flexed my fingers to test them. They moved, but not smoothly. I leaned more weight onto the counter.

I remember thinking: just stand still.

I tried to step backward toward the door and my legs didn't respond the way I expected. I gave the instruction again. Nothing happened.

I tried to lower myself to the floor on purpose. My body didn't cooperate. The next thing I knew I was on the tile. I don't remember deciding to fall.

An explanation would come later.

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Fifteen chapters. Work, relationships, money, identity, family, the body itself. Not a recovery plan. Not a guide. Written from the inside, for the people living it — and the people living it alongside them.

If that landed, you can DM me for the rest!