Hi, I’m Paige. I live with epilepsy, autism and ADHD. When I was in school and college, I had seizures most days – sometimes up to 20 in one day. What made the biggest difference wasn’t equipment or long meetings. It was how people treated me in the moments when I felt most vulnerable.
I don’t want sympathy. I want understanding. Like I always say:
I want the attention for the awareness, not the sympathy.
This blog is me sharing what really helped, and what I wish every school understood.
My dignity matters as much as my safety
When I had a seizure, I wasn’t aware of my body or what I looked like. I didn’t know who was watching. I didn’t know if my clothes had moved. I often woke up feeling embarrassed before I even knew what had happened.
Some staff made all the difference. They’d use my coat or blazer… it made the world of difference. They covered me without making a big deal. They protected my privacy. They kept other students back. That simple act kept me feeling human. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t loud. It was respectful.
And when it was needed, they also made sure the space around me was safe – moving things out of the way so I didn’t hit anything as I fell or while the seizure happened.
Please stay with me until I’m fully myself again
After a seizure, I was confused. I wandered. I couldn’t judge where I was or what I was doing.
The teachers who stayed with me made me feel safe, not trapped. They wouldn’t just let me wander off… they’d stay with me until I’d fully recovered.
You don’t need to fuss. Just be there.
Act quickly when I’m distressed
Because I’m autistic, mess and sensory overwhelm hit me hard. Once, I spilled hot pasta during a seizure. I cried, screamed and spiralled – and no one helped at first.
It wasn’t the seizure that upset me. It was the delay. My boyfriend stepped in:
“Why has no one got her anything else to wear? Why are you now letting her stress?”
When I’m distressed, it’s not “drama”. It’s neurological.
Quick, calm action can prevent a chain reaction.
Please know you’re allowed to help
Some staff hesitated to help me physically – like supporting me so I didn’t fall or guiding me away from furniture – because they were scared of doing the wrong thing.
I actually had to reassure them:
You are allowed to touch me and help me when I have a seizure.
Schools need clear guidance so staff feel confident doing the basic, human things that protect my safety and dignity.
Teach students to be kind, not curious
Young people don’t need medical training – just compassion.
My friends protected me instinctively. They created space. They shielded me. They didn’t stare.
They helped me feel normal.
What I want every school to remember
Treat me as a person first. Don’t make a scene – make a safe space. Protect my dignity without making me feel fragile. Stay with me until I’m back with you. Listen to me about what support I prefer. Keep the focus on awareness, not sympathy.
When schools get this right, something powerful happens: I feel included. I feel respected. Someone took the time to show they cared, like my experience mattered to them.
And that sense of belonging changes everything.
