This is a painfully honest, raw post. Perhaps ill-advised to be written at this time, at the close of a very long day where I pushed myself to perform, with very little to objectively show for it.
Every day, I struggle with disabling fatigue. It baffles me why this daily occurrence still continues to catch me by surprise. Is it because the chasm remains so impossibly huge between my strong ambitions, and my actual daily accomplishments?
I want to magically believe that I will, somehow, awaken with a reservoir of energy, capable of finishing all that I’ve eagerly set out to do. I know, of course, that this is not even remotely realistic.
Quite literally, more than 9,000 days have elapsed since I was first informed that I have MS. I have pushed and pushed and pushed myself, despite this truly disabling symptom, only to accomplish a mere fraction of what I originally intended.
I’ve done so because I don’t want to feel like this diagnosis will rob me of even more than it already has to date. Accepting my status quo of bone-crushing, relentless fatigue is just not acceptable.
I was raised to believe that if you simply were willing to work hard enough, anything is possible. In the context of debilitating medical issues, that is simply not true. Working excessively is to be decidedly avoided in my case, rather than actively pursued.
Our society places relatively more value on what we do, as opposed to who we are. We are human doings, versus human beings, so to speak. As a result, it should not surprise me that I continue to struggle with accepting fatigue-induced limitations.
I continue to fight fiercely, against all odds, for regaining my former life, the one for which I have not fully stopped grieving. Perhaps this merely reflects living in a society that fails to achieve true inclusivity for those who have disabilities.