This is something I wasn’t planning on sharing.

In fact, until now, the only people who knew about it were my immediate family and my doctors.

However, today I’ve been especially absentminded, and after the ridiculous series of events that unfolded in my kitchen, I figured I might as well share. 😂

But first, a little backstory.

For those who don’t know, I have epilepsy. I was diagnosed just over three years ago.

For about a year, I’ve been taking the same medication, Zonisamide. I started at a relatively low dose and stayed there for quite a while. However, after discussing my continued absence seizures and the possibility of getting a vagus nerve stimulator (VNS) with my neurologist, he referred me to an epilepsy specialist.

After meeting with the specialist, my medication was increased by 200 mg.

Then, a month later, another 100 mg.

And that’s when some strange things started happening.

At first, I just wasn’t as hungry as usual.

Then I was eating less.

And less.

Until eventually, I was lucky if I managed to eat one meal a day.

I went from drinking four or more bottles of water every day to barely managing one. Two if I was having a particularly good day.

And it wasn’t that I was intentionally avoiding food. I genuinely wanted to eat. But unless my body decided it was hungry, even the thought of food made me nauseated.

Then my hair started falling out.

And falling out.

And falling out some more.

And somewhere in the middle of all this, I went from weighing 245 pounds to 195 pounds.

Fifty pounds. In three months.

Now, under normal circumstances, I would have been thrilled to see that number on the scale.

I’ve been trying to lose weight for years. Between PCOS, endometriosis, mental health struggles, and everything else life has thrown at me, losing weight has never been particularly easy.

I haven’t weighed less than 200 pounds since I was pregnant with Braxtyn six years ago.

So, in a way, reaching that milestone was exciting.

But here’s the problem.

There’s a difference between losing weight because you’re getting healthier and losing weight because your body isn’t getting what it needs to function.

And unfortunately, I was experiencing the latter.

I became malnourished.

I was barely eating, barely drinking, and struggling to get even the most basic nutrition into my body.

There were days when all I could manage was a little water and, if I was feeling particularly adventurous, half of my usual Fixxology soda.

Then came the weakness.

The exhaustion.

The brain fog.

(Although, let’s be fair, my brain and I have been having communication issues for quite some time now. 🤭)

And then came the strange seizure episodes I talked about in my last blog post.

Which brings us to now.

I’m still experiencing many of these symptoms, but I was finally able to meet with my epilepsy specialist, and we’re working on a plan to get me off Zonisamide.

In the meantime, my brain is apparently operating with approximately 37 tabs open, 12 of them frozen, and music playing from one I can’t find.

Which brings me to today’s adventure.

The Great Chicken Fried Steak Incident of 2026.

I haven’t eaten in three days.

Not because I’m trying to avoid food, but because I genuinely haven’t been able to make myself eat.

Well, today, something miraculous happened.

I WAS HUNGRY.

Naturally, this presented a dilemma.

Do I wait for Wyatt to get home from work so we can eat dinner together, knowing there’s a very real possibility my appetite will disappear before then?

Or do I seize this rare opportunity and eat while my body is actually cooperating?

Wyatt told me to eat.

Probably the wisest decision anyone made today.

So, I decided to make myself some Tyson’s Chicken Fried Steak.

Simple enough, right?

You turn on the oven, put the steak on a cookie sheet, bake it, make some gravy, and eat.

A task that should require very little brainpower.

Or so one would think.

Attempt #1:

I turned on the oven.

A couple of HOURS later, I walked into the kitchen and realized something.

I never made my food.

The oven was on.

The food was still in the freezer.

And I had apparently moved on with my life.

Okay. No big deal. Let’s try again.

Attempt #2:

I got the chicken fried steak out of the freezer, placed one on a cookie sheet, and set a timer.

Probably.

A little while later, I happened to glance at our Amazon Alexa and noticed there wasn’t a timer showing.

Huh.

Guess I forgot to set one.

Not exactly unheard of for me.

So I set a timer.

Probably.

A few minutes later, I couldn’t remember whether I had actually set it.

So I asked Alexa.

I HAD TWO TIMERS GOING.

Set exactly two minutes apart.

TWO MINUTES.

That’s how long it took me to completely forget that I’d already set a timer. 😂

But hey, at least the food was cooking, right?

Wrong.

Attempt #3:

Eventually, the timers went off.

I walked into the kitchen to retrieve my long-awaited chicken fried steak.

Except…

It wasn’t in the oven.

It was sitting on top of the stove.

Now, naturally, I was confused.

Did I already take it out?

Why would I put it there?

Why don’t I have an oven mitt on if I just pulled something out of a hot oven?

And why, for the love of everything, can I not remember doing ANY of this?

Then it hit me.

I NEVER PUT THE FOOD IN THE OVEN.

I had successfully preheated an oven, retrieved a frozen chicken fried steak, placed it on a cookie sheet, and set not one, but TWO timers.

And somehow skipped the single most important step.

Actually cooking the food.

At this point, I was beginning to think the chicken fried steak and I were simply not meant to be.

But I was determined.

Attempt #4:

I put the chicken fried steak in the oven.

Actually IN the oven this time.

Set another timer.

Probably.

Made my gravy.

Waited.

And when the timer went off…

I opened the oven.

AND THERE IT WAS.

MY CHICKEN FRIED STEAK.

COOKED.

A modern-day miracle. 😂

And after several hours, multiple timers, and a truly embarrassing number of failed attempts, I finally sat down and ate.

For the first time in three days.

Now we just have to see whether my stomach decides to accept my offering. 🤞

All jokes aside, this has been an incredibly difficult few months, physically.

I’ve been dealing with symptoms that have affected nearly every aspect of my daily life. Things that used to be simple have become surprisingly complicated, and some days I barely recognize how my own body and brain are functioning.

I’m still experiencing these unusual seizure episodes, and because of them, I’m currently unable to drive for at least three months.

Which, as a mom of two little boys with appointments, errands, school, and approximately 4,000 other responsibilities, is less than ideal.

So, if anyone would like to contribute to my rapidly growing rideshare, grocery delivery, or food delivery fund, I am currently accepting donations.

Preferably in the form of DoorDash gift cards, chauffeur services, or someone willing to make sure I actually put my dinner in the oven. 😉

But seriously.

Sometimes, when life feels completely out of control, all you can do is find something to laugh about.

Today, that something was chicken fried steak.

And while I certainly wouldn’t have chosen any of this, I’m grateful I can still find moments of humor in the middle of something that has honestly been pretty frightening.

Hopefully, with some medication adjustments and continued care from my doctors, I’ll start feeling a little more like myself again.

Until then, I’ll be over here setting three timers to remind myself why I walked into the kitchen.

❤️

A little disclaimer: I understand that what I’m experiencing is a very real and potentially serious health issue. I’m actively working with my medical providers to address it, and I am not making light of the medical concerns themselves. Sometimes humor is simply how I cope with difficult situations.

I’m sharing my experience, not asking for medical advice or judgment. Any negative or unkind comments will be removed.

Thank you for understanding. ❤️