I’m writing off the cuff a bit tonight and don’t want anyone to think that I’m making fun of their religion. And even if I was, I doubt God would care (or any other religious entity, for that matter, but it’s a lot easier to write “God” without including the other “entity” stuff). Serious, God’s got a great sense of humor! He created the duck-billed platypus, the blue-footed boobie, and allowed Snooki from Jersey Shore to become a published author.
But I’m fully aware that people can take their religious beliefs very seriously. They can pray for blessings, good health, miracles, or preventing Snooki from publishing any more books. And it’s actually the second-to-last one that I wanted to address today.
Given the circumstances, it would have made sense for me to start folding my hands, bowing my head, and praying to anything that would listen to make my seizures go away. “Fix my epilepsy! Cure me of this affliction!” But I never have for two reasons.
The first is because I believe in the concept of “imperfectly perfect.” You may be able to conceive of something that’s ideal, something that’s flawless, something that’s perfect. And it only exists as a concept. Nothing is like that out in the real world. Nothing matches that ideal. Everything has flaws. But if everything is inherently flawed and God doesn’t make mistakes, what does that make us? Just the way we’re supposed to be. Perfect in the eyes of God. Imperfectly perfect. And who am I to want to mess with perfection?
Okay, I only believe that to an extent. There are things that are broken, things that can (and should) be fixed. When I someone kicked me in the knee during a soccer game, there was no question that I was going to have surgery to replace my torn ACL. On the other hand, even though my brain doesn’t function in the same way that an “ideal brain” should, it works the way it’s supposed to work.
And I think that’s the second part of the equation. It works the way it’s supposed to work. If people want to know more, I can tell them. If they don’t want to know more, I can tell them anyway. I’ve been writing about epilepsy awareness every day in November so far and while I’m hoping that I’ve positively impacted people’s ability to discuss it, I haven’t wanted to outsource the message. The easiest way for me to make people aware about epilepsy is to tell them myself. And aside from the fact that I like to think I’m a good storyteller, my case is one that doesn’t seem scary or horrifying… it feels like I can present the details in a factual, objective manner without triggering any strong emotional reactions. Would that be the case if my epilepsy was miraculously cured? I have no idea. But if I keep writing about this for a long enough period of time, maybe God will have enough of a sense of humor to make me a published author, too.