Between Interruptions
This book is not about seizures.
It is about everything that happens when they aren't occurring. The hours between. The Tuesday where nothing goes wrong but something still feels different. The decision made before anyone else notices a problem. The version of yourself that keeps going while another part of you is already somewhere else.
I have lived with epilepsy for twenty-five years. Almost nothing written about it addressed the part I was actually living. This book is an attempt to fill that gap.
From Chapter 1
If you live with epilepsy long enough, you notice something medical appointments rarely address. Doctors explain electrical activity, medication schedules, and safety precautions. They explain what happened. They do not explain the hours afterward.
Because while a seizure ends, the uncertainty does not. Life resumes quickly. Plans remain on the calendar. Conversations continue. From the outside, nothing looks different from where anyone else is standing. Inside, something has shifted position.
You are not in pain. You are not recovering in the way people expect. Instead, a possibility has entered the day. You don't know what caused it, you do not know how to prevent it, and you do not know which details matter.
So you return to routine. You go to work. You meet people. You answer messages. But something automatic is missing. Before, the day moved forward without your supervision. Now part of your attention stays with you, watching.
Fear does not arrive as panic. It arrives as attention.
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, the rest of it is here.