As a group home manager, I worked with a person who experienced seizures on a regular basis. I could see the outward signs that a seizure had begun – the dulled eyes, the curled fingers, tiny movements of her mouth – but the individual was unable to communicate back to me during that time. I felt as though all I could do was to keep talking to her and try to let her know I was there with her, but it felt as though I was speaking across a void with no idea whether or not she was able to hear or understand me… No way to know whether my words of comfort were being received.

My first seizure was in April of 1994. Throughout 31 years I endured a misdiagnosis and the wrong medication, the discovery of a malformation I was born with, and ultimately losing most of my left temporal lobe. Thanks to surgery in 2013 and the amazing epilepsy team and neurosurgery at VGH, I have remained tonic clonic free. To me this abstract represents the path E took me down… always turning in circles, life getting pretty dark right after it seemed to have lightened up, and things moving a mile a minute, often having to start all over again.

I use my second chance at life to help others across BC through support, advocacy and fundraising, and couldn’t be more honoured to do so.

Hi, my name is Avery and I am 11 years old. When I was 4 years old my dad started having seizures. I often witnessed my dad’s seizures at night time after bed. This was very scary for me! My painting represents my lived experience through emotions. A dark night sky represents late hours when my dad had his seizures. The water represents what felt like drowning in my emotions of adrenaline and fear. The static sky represents feeling fuzzy and panicked. I am happy that my dad has his epilepsy under control now and I have been able to process my emotions and have a better understanding of epilepsy. I understand that it can be scary to watch a loved one with epilepsy, but I am strong and brave!

Hello, my name is Renee and I am 17 years old. I had seizures as a baby due to a complication at my birth. At 4 years old, I had more seizures and was put on medication. After 10 years seizure-free, when I was 15, I came off my medication and didn’t have another seizure until the 2 year mark of being off it. When I was younger, I was happy go lucky because I took my pill and lived my life; now that I’m older, I’ve had 5 seizures in the last year and the effects have affected my life a lot.

With my painting, I combined my middle name “Lily” and my Epilepsy using acrylic paint. I started by outlining with Sharpie, then painted the petals, stem, and leaves, then the bright yellow center.

Sara Ryan and Ulla Räisänen discovered, in an experiment with 37 young people with epilepsy that, “fear was not only the most commonly talked about emotion but was also attached to rich and intense accounts.” I also have a rich and intense account to tell. One that not only involves the fear of the impact my epilepsy had on others, but the fear of perhaps losing myself.

My work explores the dichotomy between understanding my diagnosis and the visuals present in the medical and clinical imagery of the epileptic brain. The various layers of brain neurons present echo the misfiring and synapses of the brain when a seizure happens. Not only referencing my own narrative but alluding to the fragmented nature of epilepsy itself. Time and again everyday life is interrupted when a seizure occurs, almost as if a reset button has been pressed. However, the connecting brain neurons remind me that it is through connection that we see resilience present. Without a support network, navigating serious illness is a mountain to climb. Love and community are the threads of hope present in the journey of living with a chronic brain disorder.

As someone with epilepsy, this illustration represents my mind going berserk, unravelling, and how often I overthink it. My mind is probably more focused on my mind than other people’s minds are focused on their minds (say that 3 times fast). It took 20 years to have a diagnosis with epilepsy and discovered in 2023 that I had been misdiagnosed for 15 years. I mourned and grieved the lost time invested with 7 neurologists who prescribed cocktails of medication that never would have been effective.

On the morning that I finished this illustration, I went off to have a fresh MRI and begin this medical journey from scratch.

But, maybe the first stretch of the journey was a dress rehearsal with some flaws, and now we’re ready for the big performance.

And that’s a universal truth for all of us: the unexpected pitfalls are actually guiding us down the right path. And maybe we’re walking with our eyes down, scanning for anything that might trip us up and can’t even see that the destination is closer than we realize.

Keep going.

I’ve only known epilepsy as an adult. I was fortunate enough to have a very healthy childhood. It was not until I was 26 years old and underwent surgery that left me with occasional seizures. I was living in Melbourne, Austrailia temporarily (born and raised in Canada), felt scared and worried about my health and future living with seizures.

On my last days in Melbourne, I spent the day exploring the sights, taking black and white photos to remember a place I thought I would never come back to. Included was a photo that this painting is based on; this is Parliament House, on the east end of the CBD. The city will forever be entwined in my epilepsy diagnosis and at that point I was very much running away from the place where it began.

Fast forward 17 years with a medication that controls my seizures, and life is very much brighter than the day I stood looking at this view. I’ve since been back to Austrailia twice and now Melbourne is so much more than where I had my first seizure.

This painting represents the comfortableness I have with my epilepsy now, knowing that I can confront the past and process the experience in a positive way.

This piece is called “Freedom and Hope” as it showcases my medication (Clobazam) potential side effects but because I rarely experience these side effects, it gives me freedom and hope. It gives me freedom to live a “normal” life, it gives me hope that I can continue to be seizure free. The 3 stars represent the hopes and dreams we all have of achieving.

With this piece, I hope to lessen the scary-ness of the long list of potential side effects of an anti-seizure medication and to give other epilepsy warriors hope that they could also live the life they want to. I hope this piece can remind everyone we can achieve our hopes and dreams – even with all of the challenges epilepsy throws at us.

The butterfly symbolizes hope, rebirth and new beginnings. As someone who has witnessed a close family member struggle with epilepsy, I know how hard it can be to live with it.
The message that I want to pass on through my artwork is to look at the butterfly as a means to uplift one’s soul. It shows resilience to what life throws at us.

I believe that these creatures are magical. As unconventional as it may sound, sometimes having a conversation with animals/ insects can rebuild our trust in life.

When you have a child with drug resistant epilepsy, it often feels like a battle to keep hope alive. The medications that fail them, the therapies that don’t work, the seizures that forever alter their childhood, they all threaten to dim that light of hope. We are here to keep turning on the light, lighting the candle and shining our light on them. To keep choosing hope over and over, even on the darkest of nights.

– Mom of child with Epilepsy

My name is Sharan, and I created “Voices That Lift Me Up”—a piece of art featuring the amazing people at my favorite radio station, Z95.3! Listening to them every day makes me feel connected, like I’m part of something bigger. Living with epilepsy can be tough, but music helps me get through the hard days.

When I’m feeling down, turning on Z95.3 lifts my spirits and keeps me going. This artwork is my way of saying thank you to the voices that bring me joy and make every day a little brighter!

This is a representation of a person and drug for treatment of epilepsy. Drug is a molecular structure of phenytoin. Hand depicts shaking body, a sign of a seizure. Backdrop is magenta which depicts drug enters the blood stream. There is also a bluish purple tint to depict heaven, after life and after untreated epilepsy.

The story is in my experience with my dad who had epilepsy. Compliance for taking medicine is not easily achieved, especially for a stubborn superior old patient. The best thing I could do was give him less stress by not contradicting, but give hum comfort and ease in his daily activities.

Aydin was diagnosed with Epilepsy when he was 6 years old. He has been extremely brave and has tried many medications, treatments and operations to help manage his seizures. Before his recent medication, he could have up to 100 seizures in one night. He has a very severe form of Epilepsy.

His mother worked with a team of developers at Microsoft to develop an application for a smartphone to help track the seizures. The information gathered has been very helpful in finding new treatments and tracking results.

All Aydin has ever said is “I want the seizures to go away”.

Living with medication controlled epilepsy is like living 2 different lives at the same time. I’m basically Hannah Montana with a chronic illness. There’s what the world sees, the sunshine, the good days, the absence of seizures, the wins.. then there’s the unseen bad side, the what if’s, the harsh medications, the debilitating side/after effects, the memory problems, the things you can no longer do, the intense fear.. There is a common misconception that if your seizures are handled, you’re cured, and that is so far from the truth. I am over 4 years seizure free, yet I fight this battle every single day.”

This piece connects with the theme Beyond Diagnosis because when I was first diagnosed, I wasn’t able to go to the beach and go swimming. Now that I have figured out the right medications and my seizures are under control, I am able to. So the beach scene represents growth in me.

Life is like a rollercoaster, but you will always have me to pick you up when you fall down.

Child living with Epilepsy.

Holding onto hope and spreading joy and love for the future.

Chronic illness by a stunningly brilliant four-year-old.