The human embodiment of static on an old tv
Hello, friends.
Sorry for the newsletter delay this week. Fatigue got the best of me. I had a long, strange weekend at Daytona International Speedway. Even if you don't pay any attention to NASCAR, you probably heard or read about Ryan Newman. He was involved in one of the worst wrecks this sport has seen since Dale Earnhardt died in 2001. And in the stands that night, we were all thinking the same thing: Did we just witness NASCAR's first death since that day?
Luckily—miraculously—Ryan Newman will be ok. But that feeling that I may have watched a man die stuck with me. After the race, I spent the car ride back home refreshing Twitter, my stomach in knots. When the news finally came that Newman's injuries were serious but not life-threatening, I let out a breath it felt like I'd been holding for hours.
With that relief came profound exhaustion. I got home a little after midnight, went to bed, and slept until almost one o'clock the next afternoon. I knew that after pushing my body so hard for three days, I would need a day or two of recovery. I didn't expect to need a full week to get my strength back.
With MS, fatigue is a constant companion. Sometimes it lurks in the shadows, content in the knowledge that it can strike at any moment. Other times it becomes all-encompassing, weighing my body down so completely that even the smallest movements require every bit of strength I have. This past week, the fatigue was hungry. Angry at my defiance over the weekend, it forced its way into every cell in my body, asserting its dominance. One day I lay on the couch and cried, too exhausted at times to even lift my head.
I beat myself up this week, frustrated that I can never get any momentum going before fatigue rears its head again. Then an IG friend who also has MS posted a timely reminder that sudden drops in energy levels can trigger a wave of emotional instability. She reminded me that fighting MS is a daily battle that takes a ton of energy. My body is already fighting itself; my mind doesn't need to join in.
I try to get this newsletter out on Fridays. Obviously, that doesn't always happen. Part of me feels like I'm failing myself and you all for being so inconsistent. But I'm doing my best to instead focus on how amazing it is that I manage to get this newsletter out every week despite feeling like the human embodiment of static on an old tv.
One of the most difficult things about MS is that many of its symptoms are invisible. People can see my cane, but they can't see my exhaustion or my brain fog. No one can tell by looking at me how much effort I have to put into everything I do. But I keep pushing. I find joy in tiny victories. I will not let MS destroy me.
Thanks, as always, for taking the time to read this. I love you all.
Until next week, take care of yourself,
Yardena