Purple Day at my school started with one simple question: “What if everyone understood epilepsy a little better?”
For a long time, it felt like epilepsy was something hidden – something people only whispered about. I wanted my friends to know what to do if I ever had a seizure at school. My sister wanted everyone to hear her side of the story too. We realised that if we were brave enough to speak up, maybe our school would be brave enough to listen.
So, I wrote to the teachers and asked if we could do something for Purple Day. The answer came quickly: yes.
Getting ready to go purple
We planned assemblies – one for younger pupils, one for older students. At first, I was nervous. Standing on stage in front of hundreds of people is a big deal for anyone, especially when you’re talking about something as personal as seizures, tiredness, and fear. Mum stood with us at the start to help us feel brave enough.
But halfway through the first assembly, I noticed the younger children listening so carefully. That gave me courage. By the time we reached the second assembly, I gently told Mum:
It’s OK – we’ve got this.
And my sister and I stepped forward.
From nerves to cheers
My voice shook at the beginning. Every worst-case scenario went through my head:
What if I forget what to say? What if people stare? What if no one understands?
But then I saw familiar faces in the crowd – friends nodding, teachers smiling, my sister waiting with the next slide. I felt the fear loosen its grip.
I spoke about my night-time seizures, tired mornings, and the long journey our family has taken to understand what epilepsy means for us. I told everyone what helps me at school – rest time, patience, friends who stay calm, adults who don’t panic. I explained that epilepsy doesn’t look the same for everyone. And I wrote one clear message on the screen:
You don’t have to be scared.
When I finished, something amazing happened. The whole hall clapped. People wanted to share their own stories – about relatives, neighbours, or times they’d seen someone have a seizure. For the first time, it felt like epilepsy wasn’t something hidden. People were talking. People understood.
That moment taught me something huge: Courage isn’t about not being scared. It’s about speaking up anyway – because it matters.
Why I wear purple
Purple isn’t just a colour.
To me, it means:
- I’m not hiding.
- You don’t need to whisper.
- Ask me questions – I’d rather you understand.
- You’re not alone if epilepsy is part of your life too.
- We can make school safer and kinder together.
Before Purple Day, people only knew the TV version of epilepsy – flashing lights and dramatic falls. But my life isn’t like that. My seizures can happen while I’m asleep, in the car, on a plane, or just walking down the corridor. Sometimes I don’t even know they’ve happened until later. Wearing purple helps me explain that without saying a word. Speaking up helps me take back control of something that once felt frightening.
Most of all, purple reminds me that epilepsy is only one part of me – it doesn’t define who I am or who I can become.
What I learned when my school went purple
That day didn’t just change me and my family.
I learned that:
- People want to understand; they just need someone to start the conversation.
- When children speak up, adults listen more carefully.
- Kindness grows when people learn the truth instead of guessing.
- A simple assembly can spark a ripple effect that moves through classrooms, corridors, and even into other schools.
Purple Day didn’t remove the challenges of epilepsy – but it made them easier to carry, because more people understood them.
And that’s why I’ll keep wearing purple.
