It's funny how life has a way of making you look back. I can't help but think about the me that existed before two letters became a part of my identity.
There was a version of me that could see out of both eyes before optic neuritis. I remember taking that for granted - the ability to just... see. To read a book without squinting, to drive at night without fear, to catch the subtle expressions on my kids' faces from across the room. I miss that so much.
And energy? There was a version of me that could work 60+ hours a week and come home and play superheroes with my kids. Now, some days, just making it through dinner feels like running a marathon.
Oh, and dancing in the rain? There was a version of me that could do that too. Carefree, spontaneous, and not worrying about whether my legs would cooperate. I remember being able to run around with my kids, jumping on my friend's trampoline attempting backflips and back handsprings. The laughter and not so graceful landings were a summer night favorite - it's a bittersweet memory now.
But you know what? It wasn't all rosy back then either.
There was a version of me that took for granted the little things in life. I didn't know then how precious those things were until they were gone.
There was a version of me that felt she had to push herself to accomplish what she wanted out of life - no matter the cost. Always striving, always reaching, never pausing to breathe or appreciate the journey.
There was a version of me that would sweat over the little things. Traffic jams, spilled milk, a missed deadline - they all felt like the end of the world. Now? Well, let's just say I've gained some perspective. As my neurologist says, 'Multiple Sclerosis is not for the type A personality'.
Look, I'll be honest. I hate having Multiple Sclerosis. There are days when I'd give anything to go back to that previous version of me. But....it has taught me so much about myself.
I've learned patience - with my body, with others, with life itself. I've learned to appreciate the good moments because I know how precious they are. I've learned to ask for help (still working on that one, if I'm honest), and I've learned who my true friends are. I've also learned how much my husband loves me. He has been my rock and has helped, and continues to help me through every stage of this disease. Because of him, I have made it this far.
Most of all, I've learned that I'm stronger than I ever knew. That version of me before MS? She was tough, sure. But this version? She's a warrior.
So here's to all the versions of ourselves - past, present, and future. Each one has something to teach us, if we're willing to listen.
And to anyone out there facing their own life-changing diagnosis: it's okay to mourn who you were. But don't forget to celebrate who you're becoming. You might just surprise yourself.
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