Epilepsy and Resiliency

Last year, I wrote about being an epileptic hockey fan. This year, on Purple Day, I want to write about our resiliency. After all, this year’s theme is “the strength and resilience of the epilepsy community”. Just existing as an epileptic can be exhausting. Being an epileptic hockey fan is even more so.

If the world is hostile to our existence, hockey is often even more so. The world was not made with us in mind, but hockey, especially at the highest levels, is made actively hostile to us. Constantly flashing lights, digital board ads for TV-watching audiences, and the speed of the game, all combine to be a nightmare for us epileptics. But, here we are. Here I am. Still hockey fans despite the fact that we probably shouldn’t be if we had any respect for ourselves.

It’s not just the game, broadcast, or in-arena environment, though. I’ve seen hockey fans take it upon themselves to be unwelcoming to epileptics (and other neurodivergent groups). A common refrain when sensory rooms or sensory packs are announced is, “Just don’t go to the games”. I do plan to write an in-depth response to this, eventually. So, there won’t be a real response to that in this article, and there doesn’t need to be. Today is a day to celebrate our strength and resilience. Our strength is to see such comments, to hear people want to exclude us from society, and not shy away. To boldly insert ourselves in places, such as hockey fandom, where we are very much not wanted. Why? Because of our love of the sport. We watch a sport that’s harmful to us and do so with people who want nothing to do with us. That requires strength. There’s strength in demanding inclusion to be treated with respect and to receive basic accommodations to enjoy a sport. We don’t back down. The only reason we have sensory rooms and packs in arenas now along with sensitivity-friendly nights in lower level leagues is because of our demands.

It also requires resilience. Many times I’ve nearly had seizures when watching hockey. Heck, many nights I can’t watch it at all because I feel on the verge of one. If I had more respect for myself, I’d take that as a sign not to watch hockey anymore. Instead, I choose resilience. To pick myself back up and watch it the next time my team is on. I choose to watch the sport that brings me so much joy. Hockey is my favorite sport. To have your health so constantly endangered and still choose to experience joy requires resilience. Us epileptic fans, players, and coaches, have to be some of the most stubborn and resilient folks in sports.

So, here’s to us: the strong and resilient epileptic hockey fans. Hell, even if you’re not a hockey fan, but are epileptic. Just existing as an epileptic requires strength and resilience. Here’s to us. To my fellow epileptics: I love you. We got this. Don’t back down. Keep demanding inclusion. Keep pushing on. Keep enjoying what you love.

If you found value in this article, please consider paying for a subscription here at Prism Hockey, as subscription money goes to other subscriptions such as DeepL (for translating articles in other languages to cover hockey news around the world) or Google One (necessary for storage for my articles and graphics on social media) to ensure I can continue to cover hockey. If you aren’t able to buy a paid subscription, please consider at least getting a free subscription as all articles are free, and sharing this article. I’d also love to hear your thoughts on this article in the comments below (only paid subscribers can comment) or on social media. I can be found on Bluesky, Mastodon, Threads, and Tumblr.