MS is a confidence killer.

I’m a woman who’s comfortable in her own skin. It took me years to get to this point. Along the way, there were many episodes that called my confidence into question, but I emerged from the fog, confidence intact. While I won’t go so far as to say that I march fearlessly into the unknown, there’s a bit of allure in the uncertain. But I’ll tell you what, there’s absolutely nothing beguiling about the unchartered territory of multiple sclerosis. Nothing.

My MS Flare Up

As of this writing (and I’m writing it, totally spent, from the comfort of my bed), I’m in the midst of an MS flare up which began back in mid-September while I was on vacation in Lisbon. It began with me feeling tired. All the doggone time, nothing but tiredness. My entire body was exhausted, down to the bone. No matter what I was doing, that tired feeling persisted. I knew something wasn’t right. But like I sometimes tend to do, I shrugged it off. The thought of me being jet lagged did cross my mind. It soon became clear, however, that wasn’t the case.

When we arrived back home after our 10-day European jaunt, the tiredness came tagging along as if I’d packed it in my suitcase and checked it on board the flight. That’s when I realized it was more than just being tired: I was fatigued. And in case you didn’t know, there’s a difference between tired and fatigued. That weekend, the nausea and “drunkenness” (a weird, vertigo-ish kind of dizzy — but really, it feels like being drunk) set in. Over the weeks, other symptoms assaulted my body.

I’ll give you the rundown. During this flare up, MS has hit me with

• fatigue
• nausea
• drunkenness
• tremors
• neuropathic pain
• numbness in my feet and hands
• electric shocks throughout my body
• weak limbs

It’s the culmination of all of this that has robbed me of my confidence. But it’s probably not the type of confidence you might be thinking of.

Sometimes, my legs are unsteady and it makes walking an interesting feat of daring. Walking up stairs isn’t all that hard. It’s walking downstairs that’s challenging and, at times, scary. Several times I’ve opted to not go downstairs when I really wanted to because I didn’t feel confident enough to navigate the 13 steps. And I hate that. I don’t want to sound all dramatic like a Lifetime movie script (I do, however, want Viola Davis to play me in the adaptation of my life…), but when I do go downstairs, I hold onto the handrail like it’s my lifeline. I mean, it’s there for a reason, right?

Who would have thought that at the age of 58, I’d have a fear of going down a flight of steps. But the more I think about it, it’s not so much the fear of going down the steps; it’s the fear of falling down the steps. I’ve stumbled a few times in my home, I’ve managed to stumble walking up the steps a couple of times, and I’ve even fallen once or twice. But, I mean, come on! It all feels very Looney Toons-like. Any minute now I expect to fall down the steps, land at the bottom of the stairwell in a groaning heap, and an ACME anvil will fall on my head as the roadrunner races by.

The stairs aren’t the only place I’ve lost my confidence.

In the past, powerwalking has been like my therapy. I plug in my music, strap on my shoes, and get to steppin’. But lately, powerwalking has been my nemesis. It would be me outside in the wide open world, with nothing to hold onto, pushing my body to move well past the normal strolling speed. Are you kidding me? When I walk the dog with my husband, which hasn’t been too often over the last few weeks, he’s my lifeline. I hold onto his arm to regain just a teensy bit of confidence. Sometimes I stumble, but we both manage to ignore it. Calling attention to it is shining a spotlight on it, and I don’t want to feed the beast of MS.

For the past few days, it’s been just me and the dog at the homestead while my husband is away on a business trip. I had my trepidations about getting out and taking her out for her daily walks, but I’ve done it. Slow and steady wins the race, right?

MS is unforgiving, and it doesn’t give you a chance to say, “Nope, you can’t do this! Go away!” Well, you can say it, but it doesn’t do any good. MS has a way of weaving its way into your life in the most intrusive way and not letting up until it wants to.

I’m still not 100% confident in navigating my way throughout the world, but one thing keeps me going: hope. I know that not every day is going to be like what I’m currently going through. I’ll get back to moving with speed, going to the gym, walking down the steps without giving it much thought. My flare up won’t last forever. That doesn’t mean that once it’s done and over with, another one won’t attack a month later. Here again comes my hope: I hope not.

MS is a confidence killer. But you can only keep a good woman down for so long.