It is always difficult to know where to begin when I start to write. Everyone always asks how I manage to come up with something different to write about each week. The answer is with much difficulty. It is true that sometimes something will happen which will inspire me and putting pencil to paper comes as easily as spelling a, b, c. Then there are the other times when I can stare aimlessly at the screen for hour upon hour with what can only be described as writer’s block.

This week was one of those times where the white page in front of me seemed endless. I knew exactly what it was I wanted to tell you but I just couldn’t seem to make it fit. It is never more difficult than at this time of year. Normally this is the time of year when everyone seems to be in high spirits. Exams are slowly coming to an end, summer holidays are in their final stages of being booked and the longest day of the year is upon us.

For me, this time of year is not quite so upbeat.

It is the time of year when I start to become anxious, for no particular reason.

It is the time of the year when everything starts to become ominous.

It is the time of the year when I look back and contemplate.

Yesterday marked the four-year anniversary from the day that I first went into hospital. It marks four years from when my life was turned upside down and inside out and then put through a cyclone and spat out the other side.

Here I am, four years ago, without a care in the world

It probably doesn’t help matters that two years after, almost to the day, I had my first relapse. When I think back about all the trials and tribulations I have been through over this interlude it makes me realise something. No matter how bad things may seem there is always something better coming your way.

This will be my first summer in four years where I can join everyone else in their high spirits. Rather than being stuck in a hospital bed, constrained in the starchy sheets, I can spend my days sunbathing on the beautiful Devon beaches. Rather than having the lights turned out before dark, I can reflect on life while watching the sun setting late on in the evenings. I can do what I want when I want, with nothing holding me back.

I never thought that I would be sat here today, outside on my trampoline with the sun beating down, tapping frantically on my keyboard and telling you that it has been four years since my first seizure. But I am. And not only am I able to finally express my thoughts in words, but I am able to share those words with all of you.

Thankfully I have managed to prevail over my writer’s block, and by doing so I have been able to somehow piece together just what being a survivor really means.

Everyday from this day forward will be one more day I have survived.

Every moment from this one onwards I will hold dear.

Everytime I think back on what has happened I will be thankful I am me.