I was finally getting things together. I had overcome a long battle with Depression. I had a job I liked, it didn't pay well but it got me by. I had moved out of my parent's home and my social life was flourishing. I was not the shy girl I was growing up. I was out every night with my friends. I had a blast no matter where I was. I was happy and everything seemed bright and new. Happiness cannot last forever; life is a rollercoaster of emotions. Sometimes the ride goes down a steep hill and we can't see anything beyond what is below us. I have always been very sensitive to light. I have always preferred darkness. Even now, as I write this my only light is a dim touch lamp and a strand of Christmas lights. When I pass sirens on the streets, I have to look away. The light will throw me into a dizzy spell. My eyes un focus, everything becomes a blur of white light and gray shapes. My world begins to spin. I no longer control anything I do. I can talk to you but I will not make sense. I can walk but not very well. I bump into walls, fall over everything in my way. I have been like this my entire life but it didn't become a real problem until I was twenty. I knew that it was getting worse but I didn't want anyone to know. I had just put my family and friend's through a horrible ordeal with my Depression. I didn't want to make them worry so I tried to hide it. I am not good at faking things so everyone around me soon found out. I worked in a kitchen with fluorescent lights on the ceiling above me. I was sent home from work on a daily basis by the time I was twenty-one. My bosses and coworkers were wonderful about helping me. They gave me a lighter load at work and covered all of my missed shifts without every complaining. I knew this wasn't fair to them. They could never plan anything while I was sick but sometimes the hardest thing to do is admit you cannot do something. My health was failing and I was starting to get scared. My boss had just told me I couldn't come back to work until I found out what was wrong with me. The doctor's I had seen in the past had told me I had vertigo. He told me that it was more than vertigo and until I got a diagnosis, I could not go back to work. Now, I had to see the doctor. I made an appointment with my doctor. I didn't have insurance but my doctor, who has been my doctor since I was a child, gave me a discount so I only had to pay a fraction of the costs. I went to my appointment. The preformed some tests on me, an EKG and a few other tests I had taken before. All of the results were normal. The levels in my blood were fine. Once again, I was diagnosed with Vertigo and told to intake my sodium. I did just that but the vertigo returned. This time it was bad. I don't remember much of my hospital visit but I have been told I was not even aware of my name. I couldn't add simple numbers so my family rushed me to the E.R. I was put through more tests and everything came back negative. I was diagnosed with Chronic Vertigo. I went back to the E.R. several times before I was sent off for more tests. The doctors' at the hospital kept telling me that they knew there was something wrong with me they just had no idea what it was. I was devastated by the time I went for an MRI. I had no money left; I was living with my brother and sister-in-law. I had no social life and I spent most of my time in bed because the vertigo took hold of me on a daily basis. I was back in dark place and I was willing to do anything to get out of it. Even have an MRI (I am extremely claustrophobic). The results of my MRI were negative. I had no diagnosis. I had no more money. I had lost my apartment. I had lost my freedom. I was at my last rope when I found it, the manuscript I had written years earlier. I have written many manuscripts in my life but I normally read them, thought they were terrible, and destroyed them. Why had I saved this, I wondered. I sat down on my bedroom floor and read the entire manuscript. I set it down and I didn't hate it. It needed some work and I had nothing but time. I sat down and rewrote the story. I kept a lot, the characters were the same but many things had changed. I gave Melody, the main character, my mysterious illness but I gave her something I didn't have. I gave Melody answers. Through her, I found my own diagnosis and my cure. She experiences the things that caused me to create her. "Porcelain Perception" is Melody's story and my story. I still suffer from the illness they call Vertigo but I am learning to deal with it. Everyday gets a little easier and everyday I think of Melody and I keep going, she keeps me strong. | 