Living with MS

Living with Multiple Sclerosis is like walking through life with an old suitcase I am not allowed to ever set down. I imagine this suitcase is tattered, and for some reason brick red. It doesn’t have wheels that allow me to walk it alongside me like a tiny friend. I must carry it, and the handle is broken so sometimes I must grip it around its middle like I am hugging it and sometimes I drag it behind me. It doesn’t matter what is inside. It seems some days, the suitcase feels full of air; it is entirely manageable to pack it with me. And some days it is full of odd shaped rocks that tip, slide and weigh me down.

When the suitcase feels full of feathers, I look like everyone else. I function as normally as most people. I can meet you for coffee, I can do my job, I can say “yes” to your requests to socialize or even for help. I carry this suitcase, but I am so skilled at it, you don’t notice. When the suitcase carries rocks, I can barely survive my day. I am weary every time I stand up. I take naps. I struggle to find words and I struggle again to say them. My brain feels foggy, like I drank too much when I didn’t have a single drink.

In both scenarios, I look the same to the outside world. By looking at me, you cannot tell which suitcase I carry.

MS is a burden.

MS never gives me relief.

I carry this burden every day. Some days, the grief is too great. Most days, I am doing just fine. Other days I feel good and I feel the grief.

You don’t know the burden another carries. You don’t know what they fight against to stand and exist. If people are like me, they are all doing the best they can with the suitcases they must carry.