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Seizure Self Portrait Project

Seizure Self Portrait Project

by admin on January 27, 2009

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I had seizures…I don’t anymore, hopefully.
Did these collages as a document of what that time was like, most of the pictures are as they were happening, or as I was going bat-shit crazy from the medication they had me on. Sort of personal, perhaps lame and pretentious, but make of it what you will. I hope to finish this series one day.

UPDATE: 01.25.09
Well, I just finished this series. I didn’t think I ever would, I didn’t know how to end it.
It came to me today.

Thank you to everyone who has left nice comments of support. I really appreciate it, it means a lot.

Also thank you to my Dr. during that time. Dr._____, you stuck your neck out for me and gave it to me straight, and I didn’t really honor your advice like I should have, for that I am sorry.

Barrett, thank you for being there for me.

There were lots of other people who were there for me during that time, who took care of me, pulled me up, kept me going. You know who you are, I am indebted to you all.

And finally thank you to my friend Maria, who motivated me to revisit this work and finish it.

{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }

colette February 8, 2009 at 9:43 am

hey, i was ‘stumbleupon-ing) and your cardboard works came up. but these little photo essays are so beautiful, so sad, and i’m so glad you finished them. hope the seizures are under control; my ex had them and it is a scary trip….thanks for posting these, i love them. would you mind if i showed them to my creative writing/art class? thanks xx colette in canada….

Jen April 15, 2009 at 9:37 pm

I love this. I’m epileptic, and your series captures the experience perfectly.

Thu-thump May 20, 2010 at 7:56 pm

I was the youngest person in the waiting room at the cardiologist too, once. Just me, then 22, and a dozen old men with pacemakers and triple by-pass procedures and clogged arteries and hacking coughs.

The doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me, and it was terrifying. A month of not knowing, and vials of blood, and being prodded in the chest with an ultra sound tube while the technician comments on how young I am.

It turned out to be nothing. Just a benine heart defect. But when it happens I still feel like I’m dying.

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