When I first became involved with Walk MS, I wanted to walk for myself. I felt I needed to do it because I finally could. My road to diagnosis was a very turbulent and difficult one where I was constantly questioned, doubted and turned away. I began to internalize my struggles and I turned away from my own instincts and my gut feeling that there was something bigger, something very wrong, that no one else could see or feel but me. I spent 7 years battling Multiple Sclerosis before my doctors were able to call it that. I lived for 7 years with no resources, no support and no way of knowing how to cope with an invisible illness.
Becoming diagnosed with MS in 2018 was a gift because I knew that there was somewhere I belonged. I finally felt validated in that I would not only be believed, but also supported and uplifted by a community with so much strength and heart. I began to feel whole again. Now I walk for all of those living with MS, and any other autoimmune disease, that have yet to be diagnosed. I walk for my fellow warriors because they are not able to yet. Whether it is because they haven’t officially joined our community or they’re not ready to, I walk in their honor. I do it because I like to think that there were people, all along, walking for me too.
This year, I was joined by friends and family, and I felt so loved and supported by everyone who came to walk with me. Most notably though, was someone who was finally able to join me for the first time since my diagnosis. My mom is legally blind and due to other health issues, she has not been able to walk unassisted for several years. Last year, just a couple weeks before the walk, my mom also suffered a stroke and was in the hospital for an extended period of time. Watching her fight this last year to regain her strength, to feel some semblance of herself again and to catch her breath, has been the most humbling and deeply impactful experience of my life. My mom is the closest person to me. She is ground zero for my soul. We like to joke that whoever is in charge just hit copy and paste when making me, because we are mirrored images of one another inside and out. Seeing my person struggle, seeing her light and her essence waver, was something I couldn’t have ever been prepared for. Luckily, over the last few months, I’ve seen my mom take a remarkable turn for the better. She is getting stronger by the day, her appetite is coming back (you should see her with a plate of my homemade Shumai) her brightness, the sound of her iconic laughter, her physical presence- small but mighty- is with us once again.
At this year’s Walk MS, she gave me a gift I will never forget. My mom wanted to walk the last mile along side of me. She stood up out of her wheelchair and absolutely crushed it! I couldn’t have been more proud of her. I was grateful to my core and in awe of the vision that she is. To see her standing, walking, smiling, her hair blowing in the wind, was just like remembering one of the happiest moments of your life, but living it again in real time. I asked her several months ago when she was going through one of the rougher periods of her recovery to please not give up. Selfishly, I’d had a parent give up on living before and I told her I couldn’t live in a world without her. Not yet. Not anytime soon.
Growing up, my mom would always tell me that no matter what it took, she’d kick someone’s ass, she’d use super human strength to lift a car, she’d hold her breath under water for 9 hours if that is what it took to protect me. Several months ago, I felt parts of her leaving me and I told her that the time had come for her to lift the car, to find that super human strength to stay with me because I needed her to be here with me and couldn’t bear the idea of being without her. She did exactly what she always swore she would, and by talking those steps with me across the finish line, I knew for certain that there would be so many more walks to finish together in this life.
Even though my mom doesn’t have MS, her strength and determination, her ability to endure and push beyond the confines of what ails her is exactly why I take the approach that I do to living a life with MS. Having my mom by my side and living by her example and inspiration is a constant reminder that I can do absolutely anything and everything is possible when you’re as determined as we are to live well. If my mom can find the strength to lift a car, I know I can find the strength to do everything I can to uplift an entire community of people who may need help seeing the bright side of a lifelong illness.
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