Have you ever noticed how easy it is to tell yourself or someone else "WHO GIVES A SH*T WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK".
Reality is... you give a sh*t. I give a sh*t. Even though I try SO HARD not to.
Egotistically and delusionally speaking, up to 7 years ago I was a legend. You name it, I could and or would do it. I could and would do it 10x better than someone else. I was loved, chased and desired my many. I was hated, envied and rumored by many more.
I was strong. I was out going. I was invincible. I was shameless. There wasn't a d*mn thing I couldn't do or wouldn't try.
Pure and simple I was larger than life. I was confident, untouchable and unstoppable.
I was the parent and spouse of the year, an infamously loyal, dependent and outgoing friend, a wildly independent, physically strong, and driven person.
If you needed me, I was there. If sh*t was going down, I was there. If the bonfire blazed, I was there.
In my unrealistic arrogant brain I'd rather be remembered as the infamously awesome or horrible, son of a b*tch I once was than to be seen or known as the pathetic carcass I have become. Despite not wanting to care what other may think, I do care. I now feel inadequate. Pitiful. Ridiculous. I still have tons of good days, and have an extremely satisfying and amazing life, but there are days and moments I feel utterly defeated.
After the diagnosis I strived for years to believe that "I have it, it doesn't have me". I tried to continue on with my life through the changes acting as if nothing was different. For too few years, that worked.
Reality is, It has me by the balls. A large part of me has changed. Has Died. Has Disappeared.
Momentarily overlooking all the things I can do, I can no longer run out the door. I can no longer hop in the pickup. I can no longer physically lead by example for my kids (the way I truly want to). I can no longer control my motor skills, mind or body. I can no longer walk without assistance or stand alone. I’ve become a liability to and needy of others. At the mercy of on those I should be taking care of, not them taking care of me.
Every second of everyday I tell myself, “who cares what others think” “who cares what others think”. Boldly when placed face to face with you I'll smile and hide the reality of my physical and mental hell. You'll truly believe I've courageously accepted this physical and soul destroying nightmare and superhumanly transformed this torturous prison into a sunshine and unicorn filed euphoric oasis. I’ll do my d*mnedest to not show you my struggle, my pain, my insecurities. I don’t want you to pity me, to think I am weak, or to think that I’m anything less what I was.
Behind my Oscar worthy performance of “He who has it all together” I mourn the death of who I once was. Like losing a friend, a parent or a pet, you never really "get over it". You can move on. You can smile and laugh. You can be happy. You can grow and you can thrive. But you never "get over it". The existence crippling pain, sorrow, and tear filed angry eyes are always lurking in the shadows. Waiting to change my daily script.
I just need to keep the narrative alive that I shouldn’t give a sh*t about what other people think.
Do you celebrate your MS Anniversary?