Bliss, the MS-way
I long for autumn since the first few warm days. I long to walk in Phoenix Park, kicking up fallen leaves that have been building up under large oak trees. The changing of colours in nature is invigorating, it serves as a token that life goes on, that seasons come and go, each year bringing new fragrances and new stories waiting to unfold.
The beauty and cruelty of words
What we hold dear about putting pen to paper is the urge to create something out of nothing, quite often to slow down a fast-paced society where the purity of words have become chaotic and yearn to become meaningful and treasured again.
Starting over
Sacrificing your life for a chronic illness never comes easily. You learn to compensate and decide how reliable your judgment is based on what you can put in physically, mentally and emotionally. Quite often, what lies within you is mentally infinitely stronger than anyone might realise - even yourself - because, until that point in time, you have been at your worst already.
3443 Needles
After an hour and a chat with the counsellor, the MS nurse, the blood clinic and MS nurse again, there he was. My saviour. The one who would rule over thousands of future pinholes. He was no Napoleon, but I was fine with that.
What singing taught me about life with MS
It is hard to explain the following depth of reality. One morning shortly after my diagnosis, I woke up and thought, “From now on, I will wake up sick every day, and I need to accept that I will never get better again - unless a cure is found.” That level of new normals isn’t easy. Then again, finding something black to wear while standing in front of a wardrobe filled with black clothes only, isn’t either. The same goes for the many pairs of black shoes, black rings, and necklaces.
The day I stopped being weak
You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only option you have. How true is this? You lose a parent, a brother or sister, or someone else you dearly loved and yet, time goes on. Time has to go on. For your family, for yourself. Years later you realise you went through that loss better than you ever thought you would. Being strong was the only option you had. Being diagnosed with an illness that can’t be cured is a little bit similar, or is it? The day I received my MS diagnosis is a day I can almost literally rephrase, just like the day you lose someone you love, or the day when absolutely horrifying accidents happen. We all know where we were and what we…
Why I should be a brainiac, but I’m not
It happened again. Just when I attempted to maximise my brain, it decided to take over and run the show. It’ll be fun, it said. But, it was so not pretty. Not even by a long mile. With so much physical pain and hence collected a fair amount of neurology-related knowledge due to life with MS, I should be a brainiac. Yet, I am not.
