After months of forgetting it existed, I am unsure what drew me to look at my blog. Maybe it is my current mood. Maybe, subconsciously, I knew I needed to write. Nevertheless, after seeing my last post was titled “Giving Up”, I knew I couldn’t leave things hanging like that.

That was months ago, and a lot has happened since. I am not even sure where to start. My last post was full of emotions due to the approaching three-year anniversary of the onset of my multiple sclerosis symptoms…and, now that I have said that, I realize why I felt the need to return here to my blog today. The three-year anniversary of my diagnosis is this month. 

For me, anniversaries are incredibly hard and completely impossible to ignore. About a month out you begin to realize that the date is approaching. Then, social media and your photo apps start sharing “memories” for you to reminisce on. You see how active, healthy, and happy you were in October 2020. You also see how clueless you were. You have no idea that hike was your last long-distance hike ever. You have no idea you were taking pictures of your last mountain bike ride. You have no idea what is going on inside your own body. You are completely clueless in October about what will happen to you in just a few short weeks in November. 

Someone told me the way they deal with anniversaries is to treat themselves. Not so much a celebration, but a gift to yourself. Something to look forward to on that date instead of the impending dread of watching it approach on the calendar. I love the idea. Even that simple plan instills anxiety, though. What does one do to celebrate? I can no longer treat myself to the things that bring me happiness because I am no longer physically able to do those things. While taking a day off work sounds like a reasonable treat for most people, I stress about having idle time. Time off work means more time for my mind to wander to those dark corners where nothing is as it should be.

I know how “woe is me” all that sounds. But, seriously, woe is me. I can not remember the last time I felt pure happiness or joy. For the last three years, everything I have done has had a shroud of unhappiness wrapped around it. Do not get me wrong, I still appreciate the things I am still able to do. I take full advantage of the capabilities that still belong to me. I still travel, but now I no longer get to see the mountaintop from the summit of the hardest hike. Instead, I enjoy the scenery around the base of the mountain. I still take the trip, it just is not the trip I want. 

I feel myself wanting to go full speed. I want to do as much as I can as fast as I can. I still want to pick the flowers at the base of the mountain before even that is taken away from me. This disease slows everything down so much, though. It slows my arms, my legs, and even my thoughts. I muddle through each day as if I am swimming through mud. I have gone from the top of the mountain to its base. I fear I will soon only be able to enjoy the mountain from a distance. 

It is hard to find a way to treat yourself because it is impossible to get away from the disease, even for a brief moment, to fully enjoy life. I feel it in my body with every move I make. I can not raise an arm or leg without it reminding me of its existence inside me. An unwanted guest inside my own body. A violent and destructive guest that shows no respect for its host. Even if I sucked up the torment it causes me daily and threw myself a party, my uninvited guest would still come along. It would not stand idly by in the corner, though. It would drape itself over my shoulders in an attempt to drag me to the ground. 

I understand the doom and gloom that is in this post. Fear not, for I am coping. Expressing doom and gloom is therapeutic for me. There is definitely a common theme when I look back over old posts. I do not need to write twice a week as I did at the beginning of my diagnosis. Posts come more sporadically but still have that sadness to them. This post is simply me venting about the frustrations of living with an inescapable disease. I am not great at meditating. I despise the necessary evil that is therapy appointments. If you have trouble finding your coping mechanism, I recommend writing down or typing out your feelings.

Celebrating despite feeling sad may seem like a paradox, but it can be a therapeutic and uplifting experience. Life is filled with ups and downs, and sometimes, acknowledging and embracing our emotions while finding moments of joy can be a powerful coping mechanism. That is something I hope to be able to eventually find.