Dealing with my husband’s PNES—psychogenic non-epileptic seizures—is like fighting a war. A war that never ends. A war that can never truly be won. Every day brings a new skirmish, a new ambush, a new attempt to hold the line while everything inside you screams to retreat.
The battle is relentless. It wears you down in ways people don’t see. There are no medals. There’s no parade. There’s no recognition for the courage it takes just to wake up and face it again. And worst of all, so many people don’t even believe the war is real.
The seizures come like bombs out of nowhere—sudden, explosive, devastating. They take him away from me in an instant. I watch him collapse, his body wracked with something invisible but all too powerful. I’m helpless. I brace myself for each one, but they still leave me shaken. Each episode is a reminder that I can’t save him from this.
And the injuries? They’re there, but hidden. Not just the emotional trauma he endures, but the toll it takes on both of us. The sleepless nights, the fear, the isolation. The mental wounds that don’t show up on scans or in lab results. The wear and tear on a soul that just wants peace, connection, and a normal life.
People ask what PNES is like. They think it’s something you can shake off, something that’s “just in his head,” or something he should be able to control. If only they knew. If only they saw. This is not imaginary. This is not drama. This is not a phase. It’s real. It’s exhausting. It’s a damn war.
And I’m tired. I’m beyond tired. I’m battle-worn. Sometimes I wonder how long I can keep going. Sometimes I want to lay down my arms and surrender. Because what’s the point of fighting if the enemy never tires, never backs off, never gives you a break?
But then I remember—there is no other option. Surrender means leaving him behind in the trenches. It means watching him fight alone. And I can’t do that. So I keep showing up. I keep holding the line. I keep choosing love, even when I feel like I’m breaking.
Because in this war, love is my weapon. Love is my armor. And even if we never win, I will fight beside him—for him—every damn day.
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