Every day hope and trying to keep my head above water

Every day it is a battle for me to stay positive. I am 37. I was diagnosed in ’98 with RRMS, and have progressed now to the point of needing my mobility scooter to get around even my own kitchen. Most days I can smile and tell myself and others things like, “taking it one day at a time,” and “it is what it is” and I don’t let most people, especially my kids, see me cry. I am blessed in so many ways. I have a wonderful husband who takes care of everything I need, parents and family to help with other things, and a great job with people who are like a second family.

On the dark days when I can’t even stand up or brush my teeth, and when I feel God has abandoned me, I think about how he continues to provide for my needs. Down to sending random strangers to catch a door for me. But yet on the bad days I wonder why he has not answered my prayers for healing.

I have read and seen so many stories of recovery with medications (currently on my third), bee stings (been there), essential oils (there too), essential oils (yep), chiropractic care, acupuncture, diet, and so on. I ask him why he has not sent me a miracle. Then I have to be realistic and remember that these stories are anomalies and most of us are stuck like me trying everything and anything.

The bad days come for me when I can’t shuffle my feet enough to get from my scooter lift in the back of my van to the front seat and into the driver’s seat to get myself to work. They are the days when I have to ask my husband for help in the middle of the night so I can get out of bed and to the bathroom. On these days my mind goes down a scary path.

I say I am not stuck in the past, but on those days, I think about how it was only a year ago that I could get around the house with a walker; only seven years ago that I could park across the street from my son’s school and walk him into kindergarten. From those thoughts it is too easy and enticing to wonder how much longer it will be until I can no longer drive, or type, or bathe myself.

But I push those thoughts down and go on, working, loving, and praying for help. Fighting every day to live in the present.

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