Epilepsy in Full Colour 2025

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.

Note: Paintings 5–8 go together.

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 epilepsy 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.

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. 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.

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.

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. It took 20 years to have a diagnosis with epilepsy and I discovered in 2023 that I had been misdiagnosed for 15 years.

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

I’ve only known epilepsy as an adult. After surgery at 26, I was left with occasional seizures. I was living in Melbourne temporarily and felt scared and worried about my health and future living with seizures.

This painting is based on a photo of Parliament House from my last days there. Fast forward 17 years with medication that controls my seizures, and life is very much brighter. This painting represents the comfort I have with my epilepsy now, and confronting the past in a positive way.

This piece 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 and hope that I can continue to be seizure free. The 3 stars represent the hopes and dreams we all have.

With this piece, I hope to lessen the scariness of the long list of potential side effects and give other epilepsy warriors hope that they can live the life they want to.

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 I want to pass on is to look at the butterfly as a means to uplift one’s soul. It shows resilience to what life throws at us.

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 all threaten to dim that light of hope.

We are here to keep turning on the light, lighting the candle and choosing hope, even on the darkest of nights.

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

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 acheived, especially for a stubborn superior old patient. The best thing I could do was give him less stress by not contradicting, but give him 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 two different lives at the same time. There’s what the world sees, the good days, the absence of seizures, the wins. Then there’s the unseen side: the what ifs, harsh medications, side and after effects, memory problems, fear.

There is a common misconception that if your seizures are handled, you’re cured. I am over four years seizure free, yet I fight this battle every single day.

This piece connects with the theme Beyond Diagnosis. 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. 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.

An epilepsy warrior who also lives with autism.