Is it possible to be thankful living with a chronic illness?

/2 Comments/in /by

We live in a world that is prone to complaining and arguing. Think about it… everywhere you turn people are discontent with their jobs, their home, their entertainment choices, their car, their families, their life, even their health. For some people it is hard to find anything that they are content with.

They complain about their work schedule, about forgetting an appointment, about the wait time at the doctor’s office, about prices at the store, about their boss’ attitude, and even about other people always complaining. People seem to be discontent in just about everything around them.

When we meet others with multiple sclerosis we discover we have a common animosity. I went to a meeting with other MSers after I was diagnosis with MS and I felt like I was at an AA meeting…

Hi, I’m Penelope and I have MS…  then everyone spent the time complaining about their struggles. Complaining just seemed to be a part of the culture. We all complained and in our complaining we bonded together.  I noticed that bitterness and complaining was contagious. When I left I felt worse than when I arrived. This world is so twisted.

Feeling sad about this time in my life or where multiple sclerosis is taking me is just not who I am. I decided I was going to change that kind of thinking. I was going to choose to be thankful instead.

I may be worse off than I was last year at this time but I still have a lot to be thankful for… I just have to look for it in the oddest of places. Do you know what happened when I changed my way of thinking? Did my life get better? Did MS go away? Did my pain cease to exist?

NO.

I admit that sometimes it’s hard to be thankful. Sometime it becomes difficult to see anything good around you but even in the middle of difficult times, goodness is there.

I made a casserole last week and forgot to add any spices to it. It looked delicious but sure didn’t taste like it. I’m thankful that I was able to whip up a batch of seasoning to add to the dish and I didn’t have to trash it. It was actually quite tasty.

The weather here is finally cold. Freezing cold. I don’t like the cold because my muscles freeze up with it. I woke up today to a cold, cold house and a body that wouldn’t move. I’m thankful for my heated blanket, my fuzzy slippers… and hot coffee. It’s a veg out kind of day. I’m thankful for those kinds of days.

Other things I’m thankful for… good friends, a fireplace even it’s fake flames, pumpkin pie, pizza delivery, family, my own home where I can feel safe and warm, laughter, love, pain because I wouldn’t feel the joy in this world without it, a full pantry, and hope for a better tomorrow.

Here in the USA it’s thanksgiving season… don’t spend it complaining. Allow yourself time to vent and to talk about the problems you are facing but once you let it all out… let it go. Complain less, live more. Your life is what you make of it. Fill it with gratitude.

I think you will find that you are more fortunate than you realize. What are you thankful for?

Thrive at Home This Holiday Season with MS

/2 Comments/in , /by

Have you ever had this happen… a friend calls you up to invite you over for a get together. You would love to go but the challenge of a long drive, late hours, and lack of accessibility makes the decision for you. You politely decline but inside feel miserable because you realize how limiting your life has become.

There are times when having a disability is a great thing because you have an excuse to decline an invitation to a party you have no interest in going to or a reason to not help a friend move the furniture in their house. But it’s sad when you can’t join in on something you really want to be a part of.

Life changes with multiple sclerosis… which sucks. You find yourself making decisions based on how difficult it is to climb the stairs rather than on whether you have to pick up a gift and a platter of food on the way. The depression that weights on you can be hard to deal with and even overwhelming at times. It’s not an easy thing to come to terms with.

At this time of year it can become extra hard because you see people going out enjoying the holidays, spending time together shopping… doing all the able-bodied things people do that you are no longer capable of doing. It seems the winter months have this way of ushering in a sadness along with the cold and the snow. I’ve felt it myself at times. It can become overwhelming if you allow your thoughts to rule the day and slip into the “why me” places.

I know it’s hard, but try and find something good in the chaos. When you have to stay home, choose to have your own party in your PJ’s. Even if it’s a party all by yourself, have it anyway. Don’t let the fact that you can’t go somewhere get you down.

I have a party box filled with puzzles, colored pencils, coloring books, games, legos…all those creative things I played with as a kid. I pull it out and have fun. Strangely, it’s quite therapeutic and helps me to pass the time without turning the evening into a pity party. I like my PJ parties so much better.

So the next time you have to decline a friends invite, put on some festive PJ’s, make some hot cocoa and pull out your party box. I’ve grown to love these solo PJ parties. My box saved me from many a pity-party spirals, and now I’m off to mold a Play-Doh alien with googly eyes and spiky hair. Try it — Add scented candles, a favorite playlist, or a journal to doodle in. What’s in your party box? Share below or tag me on X — I can’t wait to hear!

My Adventures in MS-Land

/0 Comments/in /by

The phrase “down the rabbit hole” comes from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, where a curious girl named Alice tumbles into a strange, topsy-turvy world after following a rabbit. One moment she’s on solid ground; the next, she’s falling into Wonderland, where logic bends and the unexpected becomes routine.

I, too, have fallen — unexpectedly — into a place I call MS-Land, a realm shaped by multiple sclerosis. Like Alice, I’ve learned to navigate its quirks, though my fall came with a stumble down the stairs, courtesy of MS’s unsteady grip.

In MS-Land, the rules grow “curiouser and curiouser,” as Alice might say. Take the riddle of what to eat and drink — it shifts daily. One day, rice feels like a safe haven; the next, it betrays me with fatigue. Coffee might lift me up, only to let me crash. Dietitians seem as lost as the Mad Hatter, each peddling a different tea party menu. I’ve decided to trust my own palate, forging a path through the chaos without a marketing firm’s glossy promises.

Deeper down the rabbit hole, I meet a cast of peculiar characters, not unlike Alice’s Cheshire Cat or Queen of Hearts. There’s the BusyBody, buzzing with unsolicited tips; the KnowItAll, lecturing me on cures; and the NoseyNeighbor, peering into my struggles. Their intentions may be kind, but their advice spins my head with confusion and dizziness — symptoms MS already amplifies. I’ve found their chatter less helpful than the silence of my own research.

That research has become my guide, revealing tools to navigate this strange land. Leg and foot braces steady my wobbly steps, walkers support my journey, and trapeze bars hoist me in bed. Wheelchairs and scooters ease my fatigue, while adjustable beds adapt to my needs. There are eating utensils I strap to my hands to prevent dropped forks or spoons, exercise bikes with seatbelts to keep me secure, and cooling vests to fend off summer’s heat. These are my Wonderland gadgets, practical magic in a world that defies normalcy.

Yet, the truest companions in MS-Land aren’t tools but people — those who know its terrain and challenge me with care. Like Alice’s wiser guides, they ask gentle questions: Is this choice serving you? Friends, family, mentors, or a counselor — they’re the ones willing to descend the rabbit hole with me, walking beside me as I map this unpredictable place. It’s okay to fear what lies below; the journey is less daunting when shared.

As I venture deeper, exhaustion creeps in, my thoughts tumbling like Alice’s after her fall. I muse — do brown cows give chocolate milk? It’s a silly distraction, and soon I doze off, dreaming of cows leaping over the moon, one landing softly on my toes. I wake, unharmed, still able to move. In MS-Land, even dreams offer a reprieve, a reminder of resilience.

We don’t need to dwell in the rabbit hole forever. Each trip down fosters a deeper connection — to myself, to others — unlocking an inner strength that flows from those bonds. I hope you, too, have companions ready to explore this strange land with you, no matter how odd the path. In MS-Land, as in Wonderland, the adventure shapes us, one curious step at a time.