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Having epilepsy is far more than just seizures. This month, I wanted to share a part of my life that might make you realise how easy it is to take the simplest, most natural thing for granted — sleep.

It’s something my brain has refused to let me do properly since I was 9, and it’s only got worse over the years. I have multiple seizures every night, or whenever I drift off to sleep — so even daytime naps can be frightening.

Days aren’t exempt from clusters either, sometimes leaving me in a wheelchair for weeks. Thankfully, assisted travel has been a lifeline, and I’ve been lucky enough to receive wonderful support.

When I do sleep, it’s fitful — literally. My soundest rest comes under anaesthetic or strong medication.

I’m not looking for pity or sympathy, just awareness and understanding. I can’t always commit to plans, and even when I do, there’s a strong chance I’ll have to cancel. It’s not flakiness, it’s frustration — I feel the disappointment too, every single time.

I don’t fly long distances anymore; the risk is too high. I’ve done it twice, years ago, and the toll on my body was intense. Most days now, I’m running on fumes — my head throbs, my muscles ache, and that’s before counting the medication side effects. But still, I push on.

We all know how vital sleep is. For me, it’s a cruel and repetitive cycle, but I’m far from alone. One in three people with epilepsy are like me — drug-resistant, with seizures uncontrolled by medication.

That’s why funding for research matters so much. The NHS does its best, but many breakthroughs rely on charities. Through research, non-medicinal therapies are becoming possible — but they take time, dedication, and financial support.

I’m currently awaiting surgery to help reduce my seizures. Not everyone is eligible, so finding ways to cope becomes essential. For me, that outlet has been painting. When I can, I pour my energy into my art — and I donate 20% of every sale to The National Brain Appeal, supporting research into neurological conditions.

Honestly, I’m looking forward to surgery — even if it’s just for the anaesthetic and a solid nine hours of sleep.

If my story resonates, please consider supporting epilepsy research, sharing this, or simply taking a moment to learn more. Awareness truly makes a difference.