I have a terrible memory. I can count in one hand the number of memories I have before the age of 13.
The only reason I could actually tell you about it, is because I've always written in diaries. I'm glad, because at least there are some things that have been preserved, and I can always look back if I choose to.
But there are a few memories that are sealed in my mind. These rare cases, they are moments that significantly marked or altered my life's course.
One of those is October 6th 2013, taking the first tentative steps outside the airplane, and being hit with a blast of hot, sweltering, air...an atmosphere completely foreign to my senses.
Change was nothing new to me...and I found it exhilarating.
There's something so riveting about not knowing where life will take you next, who you will meet, what different experiences await you...
I guess growing up in a constantly-changing lifestyle generates a certain compulsion for it.
Angola is a unique country, with an even more unique culture.
It's large country, situated in Southwestern Africa, a Portuguese colony that only gained its independence in 1975, yet wouldn't experience true autonomy until 2002, having been engaged in a civil war for 27 arduous years.
It's a country that has so much beauty, wealth and enormous potential...but even more poverty, hardship and corruption.
I'll be honest...it's not for everyone. A lot of my friends simply could never understand how I could possibly want to live with all the stories I told them. But there's something that really pulls you in...it's hard to explain.
Luanda (the capital) is definitely not somewhere you will find much privacy, it's small and everyone knows everyone. Gossip is ingrained in the way of life. Expect nothing less.
But at the same time, people are warm and inviting.
It is one of the few places in the world today, where kids play with each other more than they play on their iPads.
Respect for your elders is mandatory, and family is everything.
It's a society filled with contradictions, that somehow will never fail in igniting a fierce nostalgia in all those who lived there.
For some reason, my somewhat dormant symptoms, were instantly triggered the moment I arrived in Luanda. Maybe it was the intense heat, the stress of adapting to a new lifestyle, I can't be sure...but from the very first day I began working, I no longer controlled my body.
I explored various companies in the 6 years I lived there, but unless you're lucky enough to get hired by a company that pays you a great salary and provides you with stability and growth, this is usually what happens.
I think that to this day, my employers from my first and second job, honestly believed I was a lazy, unprofessional person and I know with certainty that most of the people in those companies laughed behind my back almost every day.
I would fall asleep almost every day at my desk, at one time or another.
I still feel very lucky in the sense that I was never fired because of this, and in most cases, I somehow had amazing colleagues that had my back and I could open up to.
There were a number of ways that I would wake up; someone snapping their fingers at me, clapping their hands aggressively in front of my face, the sounds of snickering beside me...and the worst of them all...waking up by myself and realizing everyone was quietly working around me, knowing they all noticed...but no one dared address it.
These were times I knew it would be spoken about in my absence.
Then there were the times that I didn’t even remember falling asleep...all I knew was that suddenly minutes had passed on the clock...and I could not account for them.
This began what would be, the most distressing and exasperating, subsequent three years of my life. A continuous and unabating cycle of incidents that only amplified my dread every time I sat down at my desk.
I began fearing every morning I sat at my desk, every meeting we scheduled with clients, every scenario that required me to be still...began to trigger an intense feeling of anxiety inside me.
After a while, my symptoms also began manifesting themselves outside of work.
In parties, I would sometimes be caught sleeping right next to the tall speakers, blasting with music...it didn't deter me in any way.
I could be sitting, standing...it made no difference. When my body decided to shut down, there was absolutely nothing I could do.
My other symptoms started to become more prominent and frequent as well.
The nights presented me with yet another affliction.
I got my own place 9 months after I arrived, since to me, having my own space is sacred.
I was no stranger to living by myself, I actually loved it. I'd never had any issues with this, but in the following years, I would suddenly wake up in the middle of the night with the sound of glass breaking. It was a window. Someone was trying to break in.
My body froze with fear, and I was then imprisoned by an episode of sleep paralysis. But I would hear it so loud and clearly...the glass smashing on the floor, footsteps making their wait to my bedroom...
A million thoughts would race through my mind...I'm going to be robbed...raped...maybe even killed...
The shear terror I felt in those moments is impossible to describe.
When I finally managed to free myself and get the strength to get up...I would sit in my bed, still as a statue, listening, waiting...and nothing...there was no sign that someone was in my house.
Mustering the courage to check the windows...there was no broken glass...nobody was trying to break in.
I really thought I was going crazy.
Even more so, because this happened so many more times, and each time I still believed it was real. In those moments...it seems so real.
Lack of a good night's sleep...did not help with my daytime issue.
By 2017, I had gotten so used to my symptoms that every day, I mentally prepared myself and repeated my now habitual “pep-talk” in which I forced myself to believe that: today, I would be in control...today, I would not fall asleep...today, I would be focused and productive.
I don’t really remember if this ever worked. But I tried.
I thought it couldn't possibly get any worse...even my rebellious mind had to have its limits.
I was wrong.
So, it’s around 3pm just after lunch break, my new boss called me over to discuss my new clients…my heart dropped. Anything after lunch made me highly nervous, because these were the times where maintaining control over my body was unimaginably challenging.
I remember sitting down, and although I probably appeared seemingly focused on his words, internally I was screaming at my body, begging it do what I said and behave just this one time…
...the next thing I remember, my boss was thanking me and informing me that I could go now. I hesitated, attempting to situate myself for a moment and understand what had just happened. I looked for signs of reprimand or annoyance on my boss’ face but I couldn’t see any.
I made myself get up and walk back to my desk.
I placed my notebook down, and there it was...an entire page filled with writing. The bottom half of the page was almost indecipherable...but it was my writing.
And I didn’t remember writing a single word.
Today, I recognize this as “Automatic Behaviour”, this happens when an individual with Narcolepsy performs an activity or task with little, to any, conscious awareness during these periods and later has almost no recollection of these moments.
I didn’t stay very long at that company.
Fast-forward to my next job...things were looking up, I would be working with someone who I had previously worked with in another company, someone who was aware of my “problem".
It made things easier in some ways...harder in others.
Easier because I was no longer fearful for my life every day, my new boss would just snap her fingers at me, bringing me back to earth and I would simply straighten up and get back to work. It was a welcome relief, for a while anyways.
But in others...the pressure increasingly grew. This company was large and much more competitive than the others, they would not tolerate this sort of conduct, and my boss made this very clear on multiple occasions.
Day by day, falling asleep once again became my nightmare.
The stress began to cripple me. I felt that I couldn’t trust my own mind. I felt like a puppet being controlled by an external force.
I didn’t know what was wrong with me...but I knew something was wrong.
Around this time, there were 2 major incidents that contributed to my (unsurprising) breaking-point.
On top of the work pressure, these events led me to finally surrendering, taking action and getting myself on the road to diagnosis.
The first happened on a Tuesday afternoon, I picked up a friend during my break to go and get some lunch, around 12pm in the afternoon. The sun was shining as usual, and we were listening to music in the car and naturally fell into silence listening to this one particular song.
That familiar sensation began to creep up...the one that only happens right before I shut down...it’s as if my mind slowly and involuntarily, becomes submerged into a dense, heated mist that wraps itself around my brain and cloaks it in darkness.
As I continued driving, I remember my mind suddenly giving in to the darkness, no longer able to fight it, now pulling me into a catatonic-like state.
I can still remember, however, the split second that my right hand slipped off the wheel.
Luckily, my friend, who was sitting in the passenger seat looking out of the window, instantly called out my name once she began to feel the obvious swerve the car began to make.
I instantly snapped out of my haze and put all my concentration on focusing on the road ahead. I could never let this happen again.
I still thank God, that there were no other cars in the road in that moment.
The second incident actually happened that very same week.
I got home at 6pm and decided to cook something very quickly because my stomach was aching with hunger. I can’t remember exactly what I was cooking, but I remember I had to wait at least 15 or 20 minutes for it to cook.
So, I decided to sit down quickly on the couch and flick through the channels to pass the time.
The next thing I remember, my nose was filled with a distinct smell...it took a few seconds to process, but the smell was unmistakable...it smelled like burnt.
Something was burning.
I literally jumped to my feet and raced to the kitchen as soon as I managed to break free of the spell my brain had induced me into. The pot was just beginning to catch fire.
I put it out before it grew any further, but my heart would continue to pound for the rest of the night.
These two incidents shook me enough to take these symptoms extremely seriously.
Your body is always speaking to you.
If your body begins to act in a manner that is out of the ordinary...listen to it, because it’s trying to tell you something.
From that day on, I was glued to my laptop, searching for answers on the internet...typing anything that popped up in my mind, hoping and praying that I would find something, anything to explain it all.
I searched and searched for weeks...when finally one day, I read about a condition that seemed to address symptoms that seemed to really resonate with me; falling asleep involuntarily, hallucinations, nightmares, involuntary muscle control...it all fit....
...It was called Narcolepsy.
Thank you all so much for reading!
Please let me know what you think in the comments box.
Thank you!