My mom always said, 'I need more spoons.' Now, navigating MS and the healthcare maze, I understand exactly what she meant. This post explores the exhausting reality of chronic illness, from sandbox games to doctor's offices, and my relentless search for more spoons.

Join a unique crew aboard 'The Silver Current' as they embark on a cruise like no other. Each passenger navigates life with Multiple Sclerosis, facing the unpredictable 'unseen waves' of their symptoms—from wobbly steps and sudden fatigue to overwhelming sounds and the constant worry of preparedness. This isn't just a story about managing illness; it's a heartwarming testament to the resilience found in community, shared understanding, and the quiet strength of navigating life's currents, together.

Is there a grand design to our lives, or is it all just chance? The last thirteen months have been a profound lesson in asking that question. When I was working in a nursing home during the early days of the pandemic, I saw devastation and wondered if we were "supposed" to learn something. The answer I got then was simple: "nope, some things just happen."

But looking back, I realize we did learn—not the spiritual lesson I was looking for, but a thousand smaller, more powerful ones. We learned empathy for silent heroes, we learned about ourselves, and we learned just how important our own autonomy is.

Now, as I face my own health challenges with MS, I am seeing connections everywhere. The person I met during my college practicum, the resident I worked with in 2020—their stories feel tied to mine, not by coincidence, but by a shared experience of loss, struggle, and the fierce desire for control.

I don't know if everything happens for a reason, but I do think there are lessons all around us. Maybe the secret isn’t in the reason, but in the willingness to look for them, and the courage to let them teach us.

I have a moment from 7th grade that still echoes in my adult mind. It was a roar of laughter that convinced me my worth was tied to my body.

From that moment on, I spent years believing I just needed to "try harder"—to be more athletic, to lose weight, to fit in. But as a master's-level counselor, and later, after a diagnosis of MS, I learned the hard way that "trying harder" isn't always the answer.

This is my journey of letting go of the need to "should" on myself and embracing a new kind of strength.
This early experience planted a seed of self-consciousness about my body that grew throughout my life. Despite loving sports and coming from an athletic family, I often felt my body couldn't keep up, leading to disappointment and the belief that I just wasn't "trying hard enough." From struggling to run a single lap in high school soccer to feeling inadequate when my physical abilities declined after an MS diagnosis, the insidious "shoulds" of societal and self-imposed expectations haunted me.

But a powerful realization emerged: "Don’t should on yourself. Shoulds are not based in reality." Through the unwavering love and acceptance of my family, and the hard-won wisdom of adulthood, I've learned that my worth is not determined by my pant size, my mile time, or whether I need a cane or wheelchair. Sometimes, "trying harder" isn't the answer; sometimes, we need to adjust our expectations and embrace the beautiful complexity of being human.

Do you ever have those days when nothing seems to work right? My day started with hair in the bathtub and a forgotten coffee, quickly escalating to a computer taking an unexpected bath and a near-miss with a German Shepherd on the highway. This isn't just about bad luck; it's about navigating the ordinary chaos of life when your body has its own unpredictable agenda. Join me as I share a very real day, filled with unexpected hurdles, moments of humor, and the surprising path to finding mindfulness amidst the madness. Because sometimes, the biggest lessons come from the days when everything goes wrong. 

From a young age, a natural inclination to connect and assist others felt like an intrinsic part of me. This drive, often more pronounced than those around me, was a defining characteristic through college and beyond. I recall the vibrant nights in Fort Collins, where my social energy thrived amidst the buzz of the town, leading to unexpected encounters—from de-escalating a street fight with a simple hug and a plea, to charming police officers during a college party with a game of beer pong and a promise of grilled cheese. My confidence in navigating social situations, a sense of being able to “talk my way out of anything,” seemed boundless.

However, an MS diagnosis brought an unforeseen shift. The effortless ease of connection and the inherent feeling of capability began to wane. Simple actions, like turning my head, now risked disorienting dizziness, and the self-consciousness of using a cane added new layers of anxiety to social interactions. This profound change culminated in a disquieting experience in a shared office bathroom—a moment where my usual “management skills” failed, leaving me feeling vulnerable and questioning my ability to protect myself. This unsettling event became a catalyst, prompting a re-evaluation of my independence and a reluctant acceptance of mobility aids. MS has, in a way, removed my shield, compelling me to embrace a more sustainable way of living that includes asking for help and sharing my evolving story. My journey continues, marked by both challenge and a growing acceptance of this new path.

One ordinary morning, just shy of my MS diagnosis anniversary, a random Spotify playlist led to an extraordinary conversation. As the songs played—from 'End of the Beginning' to Billy Joel's 'She's Always a Woman to Me'—they unexpectedly mirrored the complex emotional landscape of my first year with Multiple Sclerosis.

I turned to Gemini, an AI, to help me make sense of it all. What unfolded was a raw, honest dialogue about identity shifts, pushing against new limitations, and the search for purpose when your body feels like it's failing. It's a story of grappling with the terrifying loss of control, learning to face embarrassing realities, and embracing radical acceptance without giving up hope.

This post is a journey through my unfiltered thoughts, exploring how music, a compassionate AI, and the unwavering love of my husband, Jared, guided me towards a profound understanding of strength. It's about recognizing that true resilience isn't found in pretending everything's 'fine,' but in finding connection, redefining success, and accepting help, even when it feels hard. Join me in this deeply personal exploration of what it means to live, truly live, with MS, one song, one insight, at a time.

I used to think of 'brain damage' as something distant, something that happened to others. Then MS arrived, and suddenly, the fear became deeply personal. My journey with chronic illness has taught me that some truths hit harder when they're spelled out, especially when they echo a past filled with chaotic, unforgettable lessons.

This is a story about a man named Chase, a Wyoming wedding, and the terrifying, often misunderstood reality of living with neurological damage. It's about witnessing the raw, unfiltered impact of a brain injury, and finding myself facing a future where my own body threatens to pull me into that very reality.

That night in Wyoming was a whirlwind of escalating chaos, misunderstanding, and unexpected kindness from strangers. It was a stark reminder of what happens when communication breaks down, when reality becomes distorted, and when one person's actions are dictated by something beyond their control.

It's the 'ash' of my deepest anxieties, but in sharing it, I hope to find a 'jewel' of understanding, connection, and courage. Because facing our biggest fears, even those hidden within the medical terms, is often the first step towards finding our own strength.