[photo by yours truly]
[As a fair alert to you, comments are closed because of the nature of this post. If you’d like to communicate with me directly, please email me at lori [at] janebenimble [dot] com. Thank you for your understanding.]
Dear Reader,
I would like to explain some things to you.
Until today, I have made a rule to not talk about something very close to me because, well, I’ve been trying my best to pretend she doesn’t exist, and I really couldn’t talk about it.
I’ve known about this side of me for fifteen years, but until last year, I could hide her from most people—from my coworkers and even some of my friends. Occasionally, she has demand to come out to play, sometimes taking my eyesight with her, or my mobility, or my clear-headed thinking. Sometimes she’d take my dignity. Then she’d fade away, tricking me repeatedly that she was really gone for good.
Since last winter, this fickle woman who lives inside me has been refusing to play nice, and, frankly she’s pissing me off.
She makes it hard to get out of bed and makes me feel groggy. While I’m sleeping, she must be running the marathons I formally ran, then hiking the 26.2 miles back home. That’s how she makes me feel when I wake up, anyway.
She makes me confused a lot of times—so much that I get lost either while driving or taking public transportation. I now have a good sense when I can safely get out of the house and when I can’t.
She makes me exhausted and sleep 12 or 14 hours every night. It’s a hard pill to swallow after only averaging 6–7 hours up until she decided to take over my life.
She ruined my career as a scientist, director, instructor, and triathlon coach.
She makes me cancel lunch plans with my friends at last minute, because, well, it’s more important for her to have me sitting at home sleeping or resting. She demands me to be isolated when I most want to see friends and family.
She robbed me of being an athlete, she robbed me of my dream to compete in an Ironman Triathlon, she robbed me of riding my bike, she robbed me of my toned body and left me with atrophied muscles and very little stamina.
She makes all my senses hyper acute, making the leaf blower outside sound like a relentless monster, and the dude who lives below me—who always slams his door every morning and night—makes me jump out my skin with my heart pounding.
She makes me hyper-emotional (official medical term = emotional lability), making me cry when the least appropriate, or laugh when it is probably not that funny, or angry when there’s really nothing or no one to be angry at.
She makes me cry out of despair. Wondering what I did to deserve her. Then she so daftly reminds me that I’m an atheist (a spiritual atheist, though, which I’ll save for explanation in another post) and there’s no one to be mad at but the luck of the draw. The chance occurrence that I’m the one that gets to spend my life with her.
I wanted to keep her out of my blog. I wanted people to see who I am without my constant jerk of a companion, but I’m forcing her to show herself. She’s done her damage, now I’m doing mine.
So, she needs to explain that sometimes I can’t always visit all the blogs I want because I need to rest.
She needs to explain to you that she can’t always come up with cheeky replies that require deep thought. I’m reading your blogs, but sometimes, she won’t let me comment and she often makes me make stupid mistakes and misspellings.
Now, tell them you’re sorry, you, you, you, you… stupid Ms. Multiple Sclerosis!!
Please forgive my impolite guest, Ms. MS. I’m doing my best to do the same. I hope in time my uninvited guest and I can become better friends. And, I promise I’ll do better at writing interesting, non-whining posts to help you get through your challenges, too. Ms. MS has been one fickle lady, but, I swear, I’m going to kick her ass!
Love,
Lori
P.S. As I embark on my NaNoWriMo journey in four days please not only wish me good luck as I attempt to get Ms. MS on board and under control, but also be patient as my posts and comments might slow down (we’ll see…). Please accept my warmest and sincerest thank you for coming here today and for all your support thus far. 
