Friendship: The Beauty of the “Non-Flincher”

May 14, 2026April 27, 2026 Codrin POLeave a comment

In many of my previous posts, I mentioned that people often react to epilepsy with fear—not fear for me, but fear that they won’t know how to handle the situation. This fear creates a distance. It makes people treat you like you’re made of glass, or worse, they stop inviting you places because they don’t want the “responsibility” of your health.

However, there is a special category of person I call the “Non-Flincher.” These are the friends who know about the condition and don’t make it the centerpiece of the relationship. They don’t panic if you look a little tired, and they don’t treat a seizure like a scene from a horror movie. If one happens, they simply follow the protocol, wait it out, and then ask if you want a glass of water or to talk about something else entirely.

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The Anatomy of an “Almost” Seizure

May 12, 2026April 27, 2026 Codrin POLeave a comment

There is a specific kind of exhaustion that comes from the “almost” seizure. In the community, we often talk about auras—those strange, sensory warnings that something is coming. Sometimes they lead to a full event, and sometimes they just… linger.

An aura is like seeing a storm on the horizon. You start the mental checklist: Am I near something sharp? Should I sit down? Who is around me? You prepare for the drop, the loss of consciousness, the total surrender of control. But then, the storm passes without breaking. The “static” in your head clears, the nausea fades, and you are left standing there, heart racing, waiting for a blow that never landed.

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Dealing with epilepsy · Not too personal

The “Epilepsy Tax” on Time

April 30, 2026April 27, 2026 Codrin POLeave a comment

Most people measure their productivity in hours or task lists. For those of us with epilepsy, we have to account for a hidden “tax” on our time that no one else sees. It isn’t just the few minutes a seizure might last; it’s the hours, or sometimes days, that follow.

When a seizure ends, the world expects you to “reset” because you look like yourself again. But internally, the brain is rebooting like an old computer after a crash. There is the post-ictal fog where words feel just out of reach, the crushing fatigue that no amount of coffee can fix, and the mental “re-calibration” required to remember what you were doing before the lights went out.

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