That MS Place is Mine

I had to be honest with myself. That is, after spending seemingly immeasurable moments which accumulated into both restless and weepy hours. You know, those unplanned times of unwelcomed feelings. Thoughts placing you close to but not exactly into, the “woe is me” mentality, (that is, I don’t think that’s what it was), but rather that nobody understands me. Not really, not fully. And just who are those that I felt did not and perhaps still do not understand? Well, some are family, some are friends. They are the ones after all that I care about, dare I say need (with all do caution) to understand and get me.

So, what exactly, do I want them to understand, to comprehend? Perhaps it is that this place that MS takes me to is one that I am compelled to enter and explore at the most inconvenient of times. For instance, when things appear or even really are okay. Often the entry is quick and not coincidentally, triggered just as quickly by things likely from others view would seem mundane. And because of being in the company of others, the encounter into that place though seemingly brief can result in a changed mood that turns on a dime. Potentially going from happy to sad; from contented to total dissatisfaction. In full view of others, the time is simply not there to allow thinking through of all I should feel grateful for and such themed mantras to be played in my head of why I should not be going there.

So, there I am self- stranded with my final, though temporary outcome sucking it up and stuffing it down …until later. Also add into the mix that it is not lost on me that that these spontaneous emotional challenges are also not convenient to others time or coping availability. Having said that, if I actually had a dime for every time I felt had to switch or conceal a mood I’d be one wealthy woman with MS.

However there are times when the expedition into this place occurs when I am all alone. No one is there. I can find no distraction detouring me away. So, as it has turned out on probably too many of those occasions, I chose to linger alone in this place. After all, it is mine.

Is that why I seem to clutch to a personal hideaway that exposes raw emotions and the strange sort of comfort I receive from it, even through isolation and loneliness? I alone choose to control when my release from it happens–not them. This solitary space is my domain and under my rule and determination. At times within, there have been voices of self-condemnation, anger, even hatred for living a transformation of self that was so unexpected. One that is challenging at the least, and incapacitating even death dealing at most.

But ultimately, my MS alone place knows me and won’t reject me, my pitying if indulged, my doubts nor my fears, and won’t make me feel ashamed of a complex grief. It won’t expect me to “just get over it”. It understands what no other does; that my MS place cohort does not enjoy my sadness, but rather acknowledges my pain freely and without harsh judgments.

Found there also is validation of my pride and joy over each and every accomplishment I make, seemingly small or not to unknowing minds. Yes, this MS thing goes far beyond what most can even imagine, even what I could have imagined.

Years ago, I once heard someone say in a self-help meeting I attended that it is more important to understand than be understood. I whole heartedly do not agree. My MS enlightened opinion accepts both are of equal value, and although you may not get the understanding of those whom you feel should, you ought to get it from someone, at least one. Yes, I do believe that as I dole out my compassion to those who call upon me when needed, it is of the utmost importance that I get some understanding too.

Frankly, my MS place has both good and dread, both beauty and scorn. Undeniably it belongs to me, as does my choice of how to mingle with either one… or all. But I attempt to share a glimpse of this dwelling of circumstance to those who care to know.

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