I Refuse to Let Worry Have All the Power
But sometimes it’s a struggle.
Your son just had another seizure, but he’s doing better now.
This is the text message that popped up on my phone’s screen. My heart plummeted into my gut as the words registered.
My son, Z, is no stranger to medical and mental health care specialists. He is a transgender young adult who has struggled with gender dysphoria and depression as well as some other physical health issues as a child and teenager.
And yet, his recent seizures scare the hell out of me. I’m worried about my son’s health.
Z had his first seizure back in early March just before all the COVID restrictions were put in place. We were hanging out in the kitchen making dinner together.
Suddenly he laid his head on the kitchen island. I asked him if he was tired. He raised his head in a jerking motion and seemed to gasp for air repeatedly almost in a snorting way. Z’s eyes were slightly crossed, and momentarily, I thought he was joking around. He’s a bit of a card with a sarcastic sense of humor.
When I realized he wasn’t conscious of what was happening because of his lack of responsiveness, I panicked. I had never seen anyone have a seizure before then. I didn’t know what to do. Thankfully his partner thought to dial 911.
Because of the pandemic shutdown, it would be months before Z got in to see a specialist and get all the tests needed to determine what caused the seizure. So by the time he got any results back, everything was inconclusive.
We were told, it was probably a fluke —that there was nothing to be concerned about.
Fast forward six months and he’s had his second seizure.
Am I still not supposed to be concerned?
I’m the type of person who finds herself all too often drowning in a tidal wave of what-ifs.
What if Z’s seizures are indicative of a big terrible something?
What if he doesn’t come back the same after the next seizure?
What if it causes some sort of permanent damage?
My worrisome ways can be overwhelming sometimes. I know logically that worrying helps nothing — not the situation or the outcome. It doesn’t even make me feel better. It usually propels me into circular thinking that encourages darker and darker thoughts.
I like to think of my worrying as a bad habit — one I want to be rid of. The only way I’ve ever broken a habit is by replacing it with a different one. So I try very hard to focus on the positive in any given situation.
It can always be much worse.
Z is okay. He’s safe and at home.
The doctors are going to run some more tests. They say he’s going to be fine.
But my attempts at positivity don’t always work. Sometimes it’s a struggle to push those troublesome what-ifs out of my mind completely. I persistently try to replace them with happier thoughts and a more optimistic outlook over and over again. Sometimes I’ll manage a reprieve, other times my success is fleeting.
This can feel like trying to swim in quicksand some days. It feels impossible and I’m not always successful. But I have to keep trying because otherwise, I’ll drown and then, worry wins, and I lose.
My son has already overcome so much for someone so young. Z shows me daily in the way he acts and treats others how a positive attitude can change a person’s world. How being grateful can change your perspective in the most amazing ways.
But with this second seizure, worry fights for the power again inside my head.
So I remind myself how resilient my son is. Z has already conquered many medical obstacles — some intertwined with his transition, some not. I feel in my heart that whatever is causing these seizures in my son, we will figure it out. And he will be even stronger for it.
Here are 10 Questions Every Parent Should Ask Their Transgender Teen.
Zada Kent is co-founder of LGBTQueer-ies & proud parent to her transgender son.
