My neurologist sat beside me, his hand thoughtfully on my arm. My face was red with tears streaming down it. He held nothing back. He started with, “Shanna, you have brain damage”. As soon as he started talking I began screaming inside my head. I wanted him to stop. It is my brain; I know it is damaged. I do not need him sitting here beside me with his perfectly healthy brain telling me how mine is broken. He did not stop, “It is not going to get better”. Please stop. “You are going to have to accept this”, he said.

There it was again. He was not the first person to talk to me about acceptance. It was not even the first time he had talked about it. We had known each other for about a year when he decided to try the tough love approach. I did not respond well. In fact, I talked to my primary care physician about referring me to another neurologist.

My problem, according to a slew of healthcare providers, is I have never accepted the fact I have multiple sclerosis. My conversation with my neurologist that day is actually the reason this blog exists. He told me I needed to talk more about my MS. He told me I needed to be more open about the changes I was going through both physically and mentally. He was right. Up to that point, I had only made a few Instagram posts about getting an infusion or wearing an AFO. I had, at no point, shared how truly devastated I was. I cried every single day during the first year of my diagnosis. On some of those days, I cried every hour. Approaching my second anniversary, I can say it has gotten only slightly better. But, no one knew that. I told people I was getting treatment, but I told no one how it made me feel. I told people I was still cycling, but I did not tell them how hard it was for me. I told people I still hiked, but not that I had to sit and sob my way through an anxiety attack every mile. I started a private blog, but soon decided the people who cared about me needed to know what I was going through, and reading My Story would be the easiest way.

I have always been a private person, especially when it comes to emotions and mental health. Two years ago, the idea of sharing my feelings would make my skin crawl. Actually telling someone I cried would be even worse. I rolled my eyes at people who talked openly about seeing a therapist or having anxiety. Yet, here I am now telling you that I have a notepad full of stuff to talk to my therapist about when I see him on Friday. My primary care doctor is handling my anxiety medications and hopes I can come off of them someday, but does not think it will be any time soon. I am also happy to report I am yet to cry a single tear today, but I did cry twice yesterday. Which I think is actually pretty good for a weekend.

Have these things helped me? Yes. It has been an extremely slow, almost immeasurable accumulation, but at least things are moving in the right direction. Yesterday was the first time I have actually experienced a brief glimpse of clarity. I say it was only a brief glimpse because my life is still as clear as mud right now.

What I determined is that my doctors are absolutely right. It has been nearly two years since my diagnosis and I still have not accepted the fact I have multiple sclerosis. I still secretly plot to hike the Grand Canyon and I tell friends I plan to go on mountain biking trips with them in the Spring. But, those things are not going to happen. No matter how badly I want it, I physically can not do those things anymore. Some people with MS can still run marathons and hike the tallest mountains. In the beginning, I looked to them for inspiration. I thought if they can do it, then I can too. Unfortunately, that is not the case with MS. Their fight is not the same as mine and their abilities have nothing to do with my disabilities.

Acceptance needs to happen before we are able to move forward. Until I accept the disabilities this disease has placed on me I will never be able to move on and learn how to live with them. Until I accept my limitations, I will live forever in a never-ending cycle of letdowns trying to be the same person I was before. The endurance hiker is gone. The mountain bike racer is gone. The runner is gone. The girl who lived for the outdoors and taking pictures of colorful mushrooms is still very much alive and well. In the process of trying to continue to be the old me, I have neglected the parts of me that are still able to continue on.

For two years I have been stuck in a very dark place. I have spent countless hours and dollars trying to be the person I was before MS. I have come to realize I need to focus on the person I am now and the person I want to be in the future. I can not do that if I continue to focus on who I used to be. I have always had trouble with this because I felt it meant I was giving up. I am coming to learn that acceptance and quitting are completely different things with completely different outcomes. Acceptance is not quitting but is instead the foundation for moving forward.

I hope this is a step in the right direction for me. I hope this is the premise for more positive posts to come instead of the anxiety-riddled stories I have shared in the past. I can see what needs to happen. I am not sure if it will take two months or another two years. There is definitely hard work ahead. It is hard to explain my current emotions. I can feel a twinge of something I have not felt for a long time. Dare I say, with such awful things happening inside me, I feel relief.