When I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis at the age of 33, I went through an identity crisis. in which all the ideas that I had about myself were challenged.
“I can write” was challenged by the possibility that I might lose the use of my fingers. “I am articulate” was challenged by the possibility of losing my capacity for speech. “I am independent and earn my own living” was challenged by the possibility that one day I might be unable to do anything useful for which I would be paid.
I had to face head-on the reality that all the things I thought of as being “me” were in fact dependent upon a set of contingencies over which I had no control, one of which being the mechanism through which signals travelled from my brain to all the other parts of my body.
And this injury in my foot, though much less frightening than a disease of the central nervous system, was reminding me of the realities I had started to face all those years before. The pain I could not cure caused me to look backwards to my multiple sclerosis. It also pointed me to look forwards to my old age.
The realities of both MS and old age involve facing the truth that anything that we think of as being central to who we are, has the potential to be stripped away. If we were athletic once, we will lose our fitness. If we were beautiful once, our looks will fade. If our brains were quick and sharp, they will become fuzzy, to be sure. We might imagine that once we are a mother, we will always be a mother – but who is to say we won’t develop an illness that causes us to look at our beloved child and say: “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
Say what you want about me. Some have called me gutsy, clever, kind. Whatever. At the end of the day, when I have been stripped of all these things – who will I be then?
Next step: Go into your own ground