Epilepsy Talk

Anger and Epilepsy: WHY ME?  | March 16, 2026

Suddenly, you’re feeling edgy. Lashing out at loved ones for no reason at all. It’s not anybody’s fault. It’s that old familiar enemy. Epilepsy. Again.

Why me? Why now? It’s not fair.

No, it’s not, but it’s part of our physiology. Since the brain is control central, sudden changes – like a seizure – wreak havoc. And you get even angrier, for what seems, like nothing at all. The outbursts, crying, come out of nowhere.

But they’re giving you a warning.

I used to get my red alert when my mouth filled up with saliva. (It was disgusting.) I’d hit the floor and close the door – if I could. Of course when I was drowning, or falling down the stairs, or walking face first into a wall, there wasn’t much I could do. (Except have my nose repaired twice.)

And no one around knew what to do.

My parents refused to use the “E” word, which made me furious. People treated me like I was some kind of pariah which didn’t make me feel warm and fuzzy either.

The Dilantin made me feel like a zombie. I even went into a coma once. And my beautiful, long hair was falling out.

Was I angry? You bet!

I couldn’t drive, couldn’t participate in athletics, couldn’t even get through a date.

I constantly had to lie. Or else no one would hire me. (Not good for their health insurance.) And I was constantly on my guard.

One day, the copy machine next to my office caught on fire.

Everyone was evacuated from the building while I was laying on the floor of my office (with the door closed), out cold. When I came out, I innocently asked “where’s the copy machine.” They all looked at me like I was from Mars.

So I quickly had to make up some lame story. I was mad. And exhausted. I couldn’t even have a seizure in peace.

Epilepsy was my dirty secret. Like it or not…

Until one night, I had a flaming seizure on a date and the guy was so sweet and gentle and considerate, I couldn’t believe it. Kind to ME? Little old damaged me? I was floored and said to myself: “He’s a keeper!” And he has been for 43 years.

Then, a few years ago, I almost died. My heart stopped. I was in a coma and on life support — followed by 5 days in the hospital — until I was transferred to another hospital for rehab, and then 4 weeks of out-patient.

But I still couldn’t button a shirt or tie my shoes, no less find the keyboard. Exasperation turned to tears.

I was useless.

Yet there was certainly time to think. (Almost dying can certainly change your perspective.) And I realized I was one of the lucky ones. After all, I was still alive.

No, I wasn’t mad any more. Instead, I found the perfect outlet. I ditched my day job (I had my own freelance writing business for 25+ years) and said bye-bye to my anger. And I became a full-time epilepsy advocate.

“Don’t get mad. Get even!”

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