Happy

Happy

Happy (adjective)
feeling or showing pleasure or contentment

These days I am finding myself happy (and healthy) and sometimes it’s hard to say that out loud for fear the other shoe will drop.

In December 2016 I started taking sertraline for depression. It was the first time I had a really bad, spiraling night, that wasn’t related to the multiple sclerosis (but maybe it is because it’s a central nervous system disease), or being treated for a flare-up. I recognized that I needed help. I reached out to a long distance friend who helped me for as long as I needed it. I went to bed and the next day I went to see my neurologist. And when it came to treating this issue, I couldn’t care less about any stigma that society has about brain health. I didn’t think twice about treating the multiple sclerosis or taking medicine for asthma growing up. My only issue was worrying about side effects. And although I didn’t turn purple, boy did I spend weeks insanely nauseous while titrating up to the full dose.

Fast forward 1.5 years later, and about a month ago I realized the sertraline (and probably age) is likely slowing down my metabolism, which already works backwards, so I decided to split the dose in half. I did this on my own without consulting my neurologist, because I know my body. I also now know how I should feel most of the time (say 80/20 rule). And I can recognize the shit for what it is, and frankly most of the time I just don’t care about stupid stuff anymore. I think the 20%, as Gaga would say, Baby I was Born This Way. And you know what? I’m good with that.

So a bit of a long about route to say most days I wake up happy. I enjoy what I do professionally (and the people I work with) and am having wonderful life experiences (on my own and with loved ones). I feel better than I have since before I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis nine years ago. I’ve been so leery about saying the latter out loud, especially with my once every 18 to 24 month MRIs coming up next month. Feeling physically and mentally great also allows me to be the best I can be for the people I love and care for as well.

I spend way less time these days wondering when the shoes are going to come tumbling and I happily give the middle finger to the shit that just doesn’t matter.

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Trust

Trust

Trust (noun)
firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something

As an American there is a lot not to trust right now. Trust in (most) of our government to have our best interests at heart is thoroughly in the toilet. It certainly has brought us together in a way I haven’t seen in decades, but it’s still a scary time trying to figure out who to trust.

Being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis I felt as though my body had betrayed me. I didn’t know my body anymore. I didn’t trust my body.

When you receive life altering information like this it turns your world upside down. Some say you can control it, or let it control you. I would argue that it’s not so simple.

Your body feels different every day. It’s hard to trust that it’s going to to be there for you on a daily basis, to support your physical and emotional needs. And you quickly learn that sometimes it doesn’t, which is extremely frustrating.

Trust in yourself is a different kind of trust, as opposed to putting your trust in others. It’s intrinsic, a gut feeling, and that was gone. In place of fear and uncertainty. We’re trained to deal with the uncertainty of life, or we couldn’t walk out of our front door each day. But this kind of news makes the uncertainty more uncertain.

I’m pretty out there, so when I was telling others about my diagnosis I didn’t worry so much about trusting the outcome. Though I often had it make it ok for others after I told them. You could see the change on their faces as the words came out of my mouth. I had to help THEM trust that I would be ok, especially the ones who knew nothing about multiple sclerosis.

There isn’t a day I wake up that I can forget that I have multiple sclerosis. For a split second, I wake up symptom free, think about the day ahead (usually hit the snooze button), and then remember. Remember that I have a neurological disease.

It’s taken me a very long time for that trust in my body. That it will do what I need, when I need it. In the last few years I’ve learned that it will be more than not. And part of learning to trust it again, is making to work it stronger. The stronger I get, the more I can trust it. And the more I don’t wake up each day thinking will this be the day another relapse happens. And I’m trusting that even if it does, that I can come out ok on the other side.