I sold my bike yesterday.

This was a bigger deal then you’d think.
A few months back Dean innocently asked me “what are you doing with your bike? It’s kind of taking up a lot of space in the shed”, a simple question. I haven’t ridden it in over 2 years. And we do need space. The kids are growing up, they have bigger bikes and more stuff, we need more space. “We should sell it” I say.

Immediately after, I hear in my head: “because I have ms and there’s no cure and I’m not getting any better so if I can’t ride it now I probably never will.”
You see the reason I haven’t ridden it, is because I can’t. Even if I managed to get on the bike, my left leg isn’t quick enough to stop me if I started leaning to the left. Imagine no leg on the left.

A depression followed.

Such an innocent question. He had just come out of that shed as frustrated as me when I get out of that shed. And in that shed there’s a huge shiny electric red bike not moving. And if we moved it it would solve so many things. It’s a reasonable question. An obvious one I had been avoiding. One that didn’t cause but did not help me as I was going into a downward spiral. I couldn’t carry the weight of MS anymore. I fell to the ground for a while there.

The black

Months later, I’m painting in the basement and thinking about my bike. It won’t sell “how can no one want this awesome bike?!”. Should I keep it? And I start thinking about what a friend once told me after his mother passed. He said he wished his parents hadn’t given up. I don’t ever want my kids to wish that. What does giving up look like. I was selling my bike. I was saying I’ll never be better. That sounds like giving up. I can’t sell the bike!
And as quickly as I could, I go up the stairs to see Dean and the kids in the living room. I shout “I’m not selling the bike! Because I’ll use it again! Suck it! HaHa!” And with a huge smile on my face I go back downstairs (at a milder pace).

The white

After a couple weeks. I’m still thinking about my bike, I’ve used that shed a few times now this summer, it’s a pain in the ass, and we need space man. But I keep telling myself every day “I will ride my bike again, I will ride my bike again, I will ride my bike again”. Then I think about it really hard. And the answer is so clear,
I will ride my a bike again.
That’s it. I just need to change my saying! Now I can sell the bike and still be optimistic, brilliant!
“I will ride a bike again! I will ride A bike again! I will ride a bike again. I will ride a bike again!

….

Just not mine, cause I sold it to make space in my m@th3r f&$@ing shed. 🙂

I WILL ride a bike again.
I will clean up the m@th3r f&$@ing shed! (She said doubtfully)
And with the money made, I will get myself the easel of my choice and use the shit out of it. I will add layers and layers of paint to it. Making it one of a kind and absolutely mine and beautiful.

To my friend,
I hope that if you were my child, and I was your mother. That you wouldn’t think I’m giving up. And I hope you don’t think that as a friend either. I’m sorry you went through that. I won’t give up. I don’t want that to be my legacy. It was a good talk. Thank you 🙂

To the guy who bought the bike.
Merci infiniment d’avoir été si gentil pendant la “vente”. C’était beaucoup plus qu’une vente pour moi, c’était toute une histoire. Et probablement une peinture. J’ai eu des merveilleux temps avec cette bicyclette. Il y a une parti en moi avec le cœur brisé. L’autre parti est pleine d’espoir. J’espère que l’histoire de cette bicyclette est longue et éblouissante.

The middle ground – the gray