Spectacular Bonding Moments.

Then you get those moments... moments when you are seizure free, and you forget all about the 'what ifs'. Moments when you feel like climbing a mountain, only to yell at the top of your lungs; "Come on world! I've got this!" Moments of pure bliss. 

Recently my husband and I, (along with the rest of the family), took a little trip to Mtwalume KZN. For the first time, in a long time, I was not calculating the distance to the nearest hospital, I was not worried about the amount of medication I had, or when I should take it, I was just... present. Some of you may be asking; "So what?" or "How is this relevant to me?" Well the thing is... I am want you would call a 'happy worrier'. I don't usually feel as though I have thought something through thoroughly, if I have not worried about it for at least 24 hours!! Silly I know... but to some extent this vacation was somewhat a small accomplishment for me.

Along with this, I feel as though some of you could relate to this. Whether you are an adult, a parent, or a child with TSC, we have all to some extent allowed it to hold us back. Our worrying hinders us from experiencing the world around us; because we have so many 'what ifs' trudging through our brains, in super slow motion. So in a way, this story is relevant. 

During this holiday, I was hoping to cautiously challenge myself, aiming to engage all my senses in feeling my surroundings. I began, (naturally) with the ocean. Swimming in the sea, has not been at the top of my 'to do list' for about ten years. Usually, I sit on the shore observing people, while reading or writing. However, not this time. "Come in..." my husband requested coaxingly, while gently wading into the water. Hesitatingly I paused as the water reached my knees. My husband, father, and brothers on the other hand, waded in with a Body board, up to just before the breakers.Standing there, watching them, I embraced the ocean with all of its power. Initially the waves surged forward, forcing my knees to lock, before suddenly retreating as if to intentionally trip me. Over and over this happened. Tasting the salt. Hearing the crash, sizzle, of the waves. Smelling the wet sand. Seeing the horizon go on for kilometers before me. It was breath taking! 

Eventually, wading to the shore where my mother sat, she appeared slightly concerned. As she peered up at me, I couldn't help but giggle. "You see the waves ma?" I inquired rhetorically. "That is what my brain feels like when I have a seizure. As the waves build up, I feel the seizure approaching. Once the wave crash, the seizure has landed. As the race to the shore once again, I feel the after effects." I smiled. "I was worried about you, so far in." she responded gazing out at my father and brothers. It was relieving to finally give her a physical visual, after all these years, of clumsy explanation. 

Mtwalume Beach

Our vacation ended up being a spectacular bonding moment for us all. No one worried, no one calculated distances to or from medical services. Joy and splendor reigned supreme, and for a split second it was as if all of Life's bliss radiated from the ocean itself.