The Day I Ended My Career

One of the most difficult days of my life was the day I handed my boss the resignation letter that ended my career. I had been raised to take pride in my work and to work hard to make something of myself. Quitting didn’t fit that mindset. It went against everything I knew.

I loved my work, but as each day passed I could see the drastic decline in my abilities. I was continually missing deadlines and would forget how to do even the simplest tasks. What I had enjoyed so much had become a struggle. I tried for months to make it work, covering up my mistakes with quick-witted replies and longer hours, but deep down I knew it was time to make a change. I also knew my decline was pulling the people around me down, and they deserved better than what I was able to give.

The thought of no longer working ripped me apart inside. I knew my work did not define me, but I could feel life changing so fast that it scared me. Life wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. MS wasn’t supposed to happen.

The worst part for me was when my last day finally came—the day I shut down my computer and turned the light off for the last time in my office. There were no farewells or goodbyes, no cakes or cards, nothing to even suggest that my entire life was about to change. That day ended just like every other day.

I remember walking to my car doing everything I could to hold back the tears. My thoughts were screaming, “Doesn’t anybody care? My life is over. I’m scared and don’t know what I’m going to do,” but no one could hear the screams. No one saw the tears.

That night I cried myself to sleep. Depression hit hard. I didn’t want to do anything or go anywhere. My life became filled with PJs, TV reruns, and tears. The grieving was real, and it was slowly taking over. The worthlessness I felt was overwhelming.

The emotional roller coaster took me completely by surprise. After all, I had always been the positive one—the person who could find the good in anything. But where was the good in a lifelong career coming to an end? Where was the good in MS taking away something I loved? I just couldn’t see it.

It took time and a lot of hard work to pull myself out of the despair that swallowed me. It wasn’t easy. I had to keep reminding myself every day that my work did not define me and neither did MS. I would tell myself, “I am who I am. I’m pretty spectacular and uniquely amazing at that—not because of what I can or can’t do. Just because I’m me.”

Eventually I stood tall again, but I still have moments when a rush of tears shows up. Even just yesterday, as I sat on my couch reflecting on my life, the tears came.

I don’t think people looking in from the outside truly understand the extent of the pain and heartbreak that can come with a chronic illness that slowly steals bits and pieces of your life. That kind of crushing and breaking… I hope others don’t have to go through it, but I know many will.

If you’re in a storm right now, know that no matter how hopeless things appear today, there can be a brighter tomorrow. Keep moving through the tears and the pain. MS doesn’t get the final say. Plans may have to change and you may have to shift how you do things, but you are still in charge of your life. Cry if you need to—even scream if that helps you release some of the pain—but give your heart time to heal. The unknown is terrifying, especially when you can’t see the road in front of you. But you aren’t a failure, stupid, or broken. You are somebody. And being somebody is the best thing anybody could ever be.