I have multiple sclerosis. I know some people like to say “I have MS, but it doesn't have me.” But really, we are stuck with each other. Living with MS is definitely difficult, but I’m sure it doesn't like living with me either. I get anxiety, I get depression, I get upset and I get scared. It is no picnic for anyone having to live in my head. But MS is the only one know knows this, because I look ok. 

I never wanted MS to be “my thing.” Think of anyone you know, there is always something that you associate them with. The piano player, the artist, the athlete, the guy who really likes Dr. Who. Everyone has their “thing.” I never wanted people to think of my name and instant think of multiple sclerosis. So I don't talk about, and it has taken me eight years to realize how unhealthy that is. It isn't my fault that I have this disease, it isn't my fault that I have pain and discomfort, but it is my fault I have been suffering alone. So welcome, welcome to the chapter of my life where I have finally decided that it is not me against the world. 

I know that I seem ok. I know to most people I seem like a normal, happy, healthy girl, but you cant see the monsters inside of me. Right now I have no feeling in my right foot, my tongue and lips are numb, these fluorescent lights above my head are making me nauseous and I can not remember what I said to you five minutes ago. These aren't things that I want to complain about, they are just things that I wish you could see. When I want to leave work early because I can’t keep my balance and I literally can not articulate what I am trying to say to customers, I keep it to myself. Because I seem ok, no one can see that I am struggling. If I say I don’t feel well, surely they'll think I’m just lazy and I’m just looking for an excuse to leave. 

I don’t like to complain. I don’t like to let people in on what’s going on in my life when they ask how I am. “I’m good,” I say most days as the vision in my right eye gets cloudier. “I’m okay,” I’ll mutter while in the midst of panic attack. So it’s about time I complain, and if that means complaining on the internet to an audience I will never know then so be it. For years, I have shoved the reality of this disease in the back of my head and told myself I was exaggerating, that it’s not as bad as I think it is and that its not something I need to think about. Then once or twice a year I implode in hysterical emotions for a day. I keep the explosion to myself, and I start over again. 

       But you know what, it sucks and I am done keeping it to myself. I’m not sure what this will turn in to. It may be a blog that I only write in once, it may be something I continue. Anyone who knows me well knows I best express my emotions through writing. I like having time to consider and stew on my words. If I can’t find the perfect way to say something out loud in conversation, I keep it to myself. Which means I usually keep a lot of things to myself. I am done keeping this disease to myself. I am not writing this for a pity party, I am writing this because I fear I will explode if I don’t let these words out.