I haven’t been writing much lately, or painting, or drawing, or taking pictures, or doing much of anything really. Nothing purposeful. I haven’t been doing well and I’ve just been distracting myself with video games and movies. It works until it doesn’t.

With the state of the world these days, the pandemic, racisms, sexisms, fires, a declining economy, pollution, global warming, wars, rape, poverty. My issues barely seem of importance. Yet I am the lead character in my story and my story is one of struggle right now. I try very hard not to think about MS. I am so sick of it, and talking about it. And I imagine reading about it gets tiresome and repetitive. And if it’s annoying for others, imagine how annoying it is for me. EVERY.GOD.DAM day – without fail: I am sick. This disease is relentless and persistent.

I struggle to get up in the morning, to make it to the bathroom in time, to get dressed, brush my hair, open my pill bottles, feed myself, cook meals and clean up. Feels like everything I do is met with adversity. My cup is overflowing and I am unable to handle any crisis of any size. My children and my husband need me, and all I can do is rest. If that. At my doctors appointment last week I told him about how sometimes I can’t catch my breath, I feel like I can’t breathe. It hurts my lungs to laugh. His response was to ask me if I’ve also started having difficulty eating and speaking yet. I said no and he simply increase some of my meds. My concerns were nothing he hasn’t heard before. My life crumbling is just another day. I can still speak but…I don’t really want to anymore… I am numb, all over. I am vanishing, I am nothing but an empty vessel.

I long for simplicity. Back in the day I would of died of starvation for my inability to harvest or hunt. I would of died from the elements, unable to build or find shelter. I would of gotten eaten by a wild animal, unable to run, climb, or hide. And that would of been the end of it. Guilt free, passed on, its not my fault. But now, with modern technology I can order food with the click of a finger from the comfort of my home. I can get help with almost anything. There’s no need for me to do anything except keep breathing, be grateful, and put on a happy face. And I can barely manage those simple tasks. I feel guilt for not being a better more helpful happy wife and mother, for not being a better dog owner, for not being a more present friend, for not contributing more to society. I long for purpose, for an escape, to be myself as I was. I cant exist solely to breathe, to listen and put on a happy face. 

I am in a dark place. Again.