‘And sometimes, against all odds, against all logic, we still hope.’

Do you ever think to yourself ‘I just need to catch one break, and then I’ll be okay’’?

The odds seem favourable

Out of the 365 days of the year

How hard could it be to find one good day that will make up for all the rest?

It doesn’t even need to be an entire day

Even one good thing during one day would make everything seem manageable

One day to make the other 364 days worth it

The problem isn’t in the numbers

The problem is that one thing always seems to be just out of reach

It’s illusive

Yet

Still

Somehow

There’s hope

Hoping every night before sleep

That tomorrow will be different

Hopeful that it will be the one day out of the 365 that will make all of this worth it

And so every night before you close your eyes

You take that piece of hope

You immerse yourself in it

You wrap your wish in hope

Tie it neatly with a big bow

And you wish so hard that when you wake

The new day won’t be anything like the last 13,140 days

and counting

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Disclaimer:

I write because it feels good. I write because I have stuff to say. I write because I like seeing my words laid out in front of me. I write with myself in mind as the audience. I don’t write for compliments or pity. I don’t write to see how many likes or follows I get. I write the way some people need a cigarette to relieve the tension. It needs to come out. And it will. One way or another. This just happens to be the more positive way for it to do so.

I’m in a mood

The kind where I’m starting to doubt whether or not the treatment was even worth any of it

I’m approximately 2 months and a week post Round 2 of Lemtrada

I’m really tired

I don’t think I’ve made it past 10pm more than a few times

I’m nauseous more often than not

My eyes hurt

Back and leg pain

The laundry list could go on

I’m tired of feeling shitty

I’m tired of complaining

I’m frustrated

I’m irritated

And I’m sad

The me in my head

Isn’t this person

She’s out there living life

Not holed up in her condo

Hiding from the oppressive heat

Writing and feeling sorry for herself

That makes me so angry and disgusted with myself

Like I don’t even know this person anymore

I want to shed this old skin

This body

This mind

It clearly has been dysfunctional from the very beginning

Hell even upon being born

I couldn’t go home with my mom

I had to wait in an incubator

As if to prepare me for the outside world

That too

Clearly didn’t work

‘Nothing gold can stay’ -Robert Frost

You know that saying

The one that goes something about longing for a place you’ve never even been before?

Sometimes it’s not as romantic of a notion as that

Sometimes it’s a literal place you’ve been to

For me it was a house we lived in

A house we recently sold

To move into more affordable (read: for my situation) living arrangements

It wasn’t just concrete and wood

It was a home in a very real way for me

As an eternal ‘outsider

It can be tricky to find a place where you feel comfortable

Let alone a place where you instantly feel at ease

Most places seem unwelcoming or overwhelming

But not that house

I remember walking in

And seeing the grey walls and dark floors

And laughing to myself that it was like it had been renovated with me in mind

Finding a big bay window in the master bedroom was icing on the cake

I’d sit so often in my bed and look out that bay window and see the centuries old trees that lined the street

Finding comfort in all the beauty that had been there long before me

And would surely be there long after me

It wasn’t just the house

The street made me smile when I drove towards it

Smelling the amazing food of my Portuguese neighbours

Joking how even in the dead of winter they’d be out grilling up some food on a charcoal bbq

We would sit on our stone patio in our wicker chairs

Listening to the sounds of the neighbourhood

Music and cars and laughter

I can’t tell if any of it is even real anymore

Did I make it all up?

Maybe it never really existed

It should make me feel better

Less sad

Less nostalgic

It should make me hopeful that if a place like that could ever have existed

Maybe I can find it again

But I don’t feel that way

I feel sad and bitter and filled with regret

I feel certain in this moment

That my soul is so heavy with the weight of regret

That I’ll never be able to find the beauty of feeling home again

So on we go

My troubled soul and me

Perpetually lost

Always an outsider

A typical fight between a couple where one has MS

Person with MS (now referred to as ‘MS’ says to their partner who does not have MS (now referred to as N/A) ‘You seem unhappy. I’ve been noticing it for awhile. It appears to me that when I flare up, you get very stressed become unhappy.’

N/A: ‘What? Me? No. Sure I worry but I’m not unhappy. It’s work and (insert other things like kids, money, etc).

MS: ‘really? It seems to have really started after my diagnosis.’

N/A: (immediately defensive)

MS: ‘I mean, I know I gave you an out after my diagnosis (out a term many MSers are familiar with) and you didn’t take it. But that’s the thing with MS sometimes it gets worse. And I know this hasn’t been easy for you.’

N/A: ‘Exactly. I don’t want to leave. Why are you even bringing this up?!’

MS: (annoyance increasing) ‘Look, can’t we just talk about this? I’m concerned about how this affects you and in turn me.’

N/A: ‘I deal with it okay? You don’t have to worry’

MS: ‘But that’s the thing, you’re not dealing with ‘it’. You’re snappy (insert other words like ‘cranky, pissy, never home, drinking too much and etc)

N/A: ‘Am I supposed to be happy with it?!’

MS: ‘Thats the thing though. You acting so unhappy about my illness makes me feel worse about it. It makes me feel like a burden and I feel like that’s making you miserable. And how can I work on accepting my illness when you’re so miserable about it?’

End scene

Thats the thing

You know

The one at the end of the day

That keeps you up

Worrying over

Going to groups and learning about how to accept a crazy fucked up illness like MS

And not getting sucked under by the sadness and fear that comes along with it

But it is so hard to accept something so life changing

For the MSer

And for the people around said person

There’s such a strong part of me that does not want to accept having MS

I don’t want it to be a part of me, my life or my health for that matter

It seems self defeating to accept it

But it’s not

It’s the opposite

It’s like a coming to terms with MS

A mutual agreement if you will

MS says to you ‘I’m sticking around. I’m moody and temperamental and I like to take over every aspect of your life.’

You respond ‘I know you’re here to stay, and I understand the moodiness…but I can’t let you take over my entire life’

MS says ‘Why not? I have already.’

You answer ‘I’m taking parts of my life back from you. I’ll still have you in my life but you just can’t have it all. So let’s agree that you’ll stick around and I won’t fight you anymore. But you have to understand that you’re only one piece of my life. A big piece, yes. But I just can’t let you take over everything.’

MS ‘What’s the harm in that anyway?’

You say ‘Because if I let you, you’d own me and I would disappear.’

And the curtains start to close

And you and MS walk to different stage exits

The audience knows it’s not goodbye

But rather just a little breathing room

And there’s closure in that

————

The end

‘How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard?’ Winnie the Pooh

Some days the light is so bright that all I can do is immerse myself in it

The pain I usually feel is overwhelmed by the natural beauty the light bestows

Upon me

And all I can do is worship at its sight

Like a pilgrimage to a holy site

I sit in bask in what can only be described as incandescent

The way it heats my face and my body is a reminder of how alive I am in this moment

When I turn away

I am reminded how fleeting beauty can be

And how this moment may not last forever

And there might be a time when I can no longer see the beauty right in front of me

But memories fade and I want proof that this moment existed

I take a picture and write a poem

And hope that something gets imprinted onto my heart

So that I may be able to conjure up these feelings on the days when I just can’t find the light no matter how hard I try

‘Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon and the truth.’ -Buddha

The thing with chronic illness is that it takes away your sense of hope

See, despite what ‘people’ tell you

There is a very real possibility that it won’t get better

In fact, with a disease like MS, there is the distinct possibility that it can always get worse

Much worse

So, somehow you’re ‘supposed’ to remind yourself on those bad days

That it might be bad now

But it could always be worse

As if that notion is the balm to ease this ache

Sometimes, I grit my teeth and force myself to smile and nod along

Play the gracious and zen like ‘sick person’

Yes yes I’m nauseous pretty much 24/7, my body feels like an 80 year olds and my eyes hurt

But sure to ease anyone’s unease with my illness

I can put on a little dance

And play the part

For like a minute

Or two

Then the act starts to crumble

And like Cinderella fleeing the ball before her carriage turns into a pumpkin

I crawl back into bed and think to myself

That’s not who I am

I can’t make myself be someone else

No matter how hard you might want me to

No matter how hard I might want to

I’ve been there and done that

In the end

I’m always still just me

But I think I’d rather be that uninspiring sick person

Than this caricature of me that makes the rest of the world more comfortable

After all, those caricatures always get tossed out in the end

“We looked for the easiest way out: a separate reality.” ― Paulo Coelho, Veronika Decides to Die

My hair is falling out

My eyes hurt

And I’m trying to remind myself why I did this fucking treatment

This weekend passed by in fits of long naps

When I’ve been awake, I feel tired and irritated

This is the stuff no one tells you about chronic illness and the shit you do to your body to ‘get better’

I’m almost two months post Round 2

I did my blood work

With much greater ease

The first month of the next five years

There’s so many thoughts rumbling around in my head

And even trying to make sense of them in writing isn’t doing the trick

I went to the optometrist and while my vision hasn’t gotten worse she was concerned over my eye pressure and appearance of optic nerve

She said it didn’t have anything to do with my optic neuritis episodes

Glaucoma?

Being sent to ophthalmologist for more tests

I went to the group again on Friday

The topic was the difficulty in decision making

Funny since I’m struggling with this long term disability decision

I came home feeling understood

Something that’s always evaded me

It was a wonderful feeling

That I’m trying to hold onto

But it’s just out of my grip

Like the Banksy art on my arm

I’m reaching for it but it’s just passed my reach