Project Five is focused on re-integration. I have become an independent person, shifting my focus away from epilepsy. This journey is about personal growth and renewal. I celebrate my progress and consciously choose to move towards recovery. My abilities are flourishing, and I am grateful for all of my experiences. I have persevered through challenges.
Re-Integration In this piece, there are two hands. One hand symbolizes my old beliefs about myself—those that held me back—while the other hand represents my new beliefs in myself. I am choosing to turn away from what limited me and to focus on my recovery without fixating on epilepsy.
My Heart Knows the Truth I wrote the following poem on the piece. My brain won't remember by my heart will. Grief becomes conflicting when I don't have memories of you. We are family and I can't recall one shared experience. I cry feeling alone in my sorrow but my heart knows the truth. I wonder why my memories were taken and my heart silently comforts me..... Shhhh you don't need an answer. Like a stranger, I stand like an outsider listening to your legacy. You seemed like a great person, I wish I got to know you, or did I? See my brain can't remember you, but my heart, it knows the truth. This poem was written to share the depth of memory loss in epilepsy. The hand over the heart is a reflection of nurturing self.
You Suffered Too The following poem is written on the sculpture. You were my unsung hero when I was in physical harm. You cared for me, kept me safe, and watched over me. For years you stood beside me in times of desperation and comforted me in times of suffering. Your voice was under-recognized, under-appreciated, and often un-heard. I wonder, who comforted you? You stood beside me when I became reactive. You watched me overcome horrendous psychological challenges. You probably never did get a “thank you.” I can’t help but wonder, who comforted you? Where was your support? Did anyone ask you if you were ok? I didn’t know every time you watched me ‘fall,’ you hurt too. It wasn’t an easy journey; we didn’t get to choose. Today, as you see me stand strong, I want to thank you, while also acknowledging that your suffering is valid too. This poem was written to express empathy and understanding for other peoples journey with epilepsy. The hand over the heart is a reflection of compassion.
The Arrival: This sculpture symbolizes my confidence. I am thriving! I am independent, I believe in myself, and it’s time to celebrate!
Re-Growth 1 of 2 This piece is the first humanistic sculpture I created. Lizards surround the sculpture, particularly on the throat, temporal lobe, and head. The lizards symbolize re-growth and the process of shedding one’s skin. They remind me to draw from my strengths and not to doubt myself. I’m not quite sure why I added the purple doorknobs on the sides of the arms, but I intended for them to represent epilepsy. I think this was my way of extending support to others who face similar challenges.
Re-Growth 2 of 2 This piece is the first humanistic sculpture I created. Lizards surround the sculpture, particularly on the throat, temporal lobe, and head. The lizards symbolize re-growth and the process of shedding one’s skin. They remind me to draw from my strengths and not to doubt myself. I’m not quite sure why I added the purple doorknobs on the sides of the arms, but I intended for them to represent epilepsy. I think this was my way of extending support to others who face similar challenges.
Reunited When I created this piece, it reminded me of who I was before surgery. It brought back memories of my undergraduate years in college when I studied fine arts and took drawing courses, showcasing my strengths. I was confident back then, but after surgery, I began to doubt my abilities. The memory loss caused by the seizures made me feel like my ‘past self’ was gone. I cut her out of my life and started over. It felt as though my life had two distinct stories: what happened before and what happened after surgery. This piece serves as a reminder that, even though I can’t remember parts of who I am, that girl who existed before surgery is still with me. We are reunited.