I am well aware of the reality of MS and the unknown risks, dangers, symptoms, and limitations it comes with. I research, I hope, I struggle, I try to do everything in my power to stay informed and as ‘ahead’ of this disease as I can. The reality and the weight of this disease keeps my feet firmly planted to the ground. Almost literally as well.

But I am also a dreamer. My head is high in the clouds. I envision myself climbing mountains, crossing prairies, hiking through fields and forests. Dancing till the wee hours, and singing at the top of my lungs.
And when my legs pull me down, when I fall to the ground, when I run out of breath, I simply look to the skies. I search for rainbows, feel the rain on my skin, I imagine myself as a bird flying through the clouds, reaching the highest summits. I watch the sunsets, I see hope and possibilities in my children’s eyes. I lie in the grass to feel levelled, I look up to feel far, I drive with the windows down to feel the wind in my hair. I write to feel grounded but I paint to be free.

I may be standing still, feet planted. But it is not where my head is at.
I am not where I am