Possessed Of An Overactive Imagination

When I was eight, I developed epilepsy. It was on both sides of the family, and my mum had it as a child. So, as the oldest, I am the one unlucky enough to have it, as well. 

I didn’t find out by dropping and having a seizure or staring off into space like usual. My aunt was cutting my hair when it happened. I don’t remember it very well, but she does. Clearly. She had no idea I was epileptic, so her first reaction was to scream and yell about possession. 

I had apparently stood up without warning, walked in a straight line, and started talking in what she thought was Latin. For months, she tried to say it was demonic possession, regardless of the countless doctors and MRIs and CAT scans showing I had epilepsy. She was always overreacting about everything, so no one believed her. 

She is still claiming my case of chickenpox at nine was the fifth disease.

And that she isn’t insane.

This story is part of our Epilepsy roundup.

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