Gratitude Changed My Life with MS

For me, it extends far beyond the gratitude that shows up at the Thanksgiving table.

A few years before my diagnosis of multiple sclerosis (MS), I decided to begin a daily gratitude journal. Every day, I wrote five things that I was grateful for. Yet, unlike many daily gratitude practices, I decided I would never allow myself to repeat anything on my list.

Little did I know, at that time, how incredibly impactful that particular challenge, to never repeat anything, would be. Every evening, I diligently listed five things I was grateful for without repeating anything.

Years later, as progressive MS slowly and steadily began to take things away from me, I was — and still am — able to focus on all that I continue to have in my life.

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Gratitude is everywhere, all the time

At first, it was easy. I listed all the typical things that people usually are grateful for: friends, family, health, a home, jobs, children, and food. After a week or so, it got much more challenging. To continue with my nonrepeating list, I was forced to look very closely at things in my life that I normally had not recognized as things I was particularly grateful for.

Air conditioning, toenail clippers, peanut butter, hot tea.

At some point, I started to get the hang of it. I started to notice that there were things to be grateful for all the time and everywhere.

The ability to watch an ant crawl, hearing the garage door open knowing my wife was home safely, being able to put a key in the door lock, the person who invented door locks, feeling safe at night, a pillow that was the right softness.

I mean, let’s be honest. There is a big reason to be grateful for whoever invented a shovel or tissues or the ability to scratch an itch.

Without those things, life is harder. Those of us living with MS don’t need life to be harder.

Gratitude is my daily attitude

It’s so difficult to live with the amount of loss that comes with MS, and it’s so easy to recognize how much has been taken from me over the last 25 years. Sometimes, it seems as though this disease takes some decision or ability from me each week that I had the week prior.

And that recognition can make me really sad. Or really angry. Or really scared. As a psychotherapist, I know that allowing myself to have these feelings is not only normal, it’s essential to keeping myself emotionally healthy and grounded as I navigate this challenging illness.

But I don’t want to live in those feelings.

As those abilities and decisions are taken from me, my life can feel as if it is shrinking. In such times, I try to remember to look through the lens of gratitude, where I can see how my life appears to be rich and full rather than isolating and diminishing. As an added benefit, my gratitude practice can also provide some relief when I am feeling scared, mad, or sad.

Gratitude in every minute and every moment

Gratitude can show up for me about 10 times in any given hour. I am so accustomed to the practice of gratitude now that hardly an hour goes by when I do not notice something I am grateful for.

Things I’ve felt gratitude for in just the past few hours

• fingers that can type this morning, even if they don’t every day, plus a clear head with no cognitive issues so far, so I can write this article
• my ability to pick up a coffee cup, feel sensation, and swallow
• vintage handles that my handyman placed carefully around my home as part of his ongoing effort to make me safer — and meet my picky decorating demands
• the safety of a shower seat and the person who invented it
• my friend who stopped by last night to help me do a blood test — and also brought me fresh pressed juice

Things I am continuously grateful for

• Things that make my life feel and work better, like electric toothbrushes and my ability to hold one. My heated blanket, socks, and mattress pad. The cooling jacket and air conditioner. Straws, Poise pads, flat shoes, ankle braces, percussion massagers, nutritional supplements.
• Online shopping, which makes me feel like I can “run errands” and participate in the functioning of a household. Also, online trainings.
• My clients who are willing to connect through video and make it possible to continue working at my dream job. Clients who grant me an hour to focus on them instead of on the discomfort of my body, and who remind me of my competency. Clients who don’t care if I show up in a sweatshirt and baseball hat if my physical fatigue is overwhelming.
• My ability to ask for and to receive help.
• The things I continue to do for myself, like blowing my nose, applying mascara and lip balm, putting a key in the door, taking a shower, brushing my hair, tying my shoes, getting off the toilet, pulling my pants up, and brushing my teeth.
• The things and people that help me move, like my mom, who bought me a sit-down elliptical trainer, which we placed in front of a window with a view of the mountains, so I can pretend I’m mountain biking. Plus, the people who invented The Rig, the Berkelbike, the Smart Scoot, and my lightweight wheelchair, and the people and organizations that have helped me acquire them.
• The many people who fought for the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) and able-bodied people who don’t park in a disabled spot, even if it is “just for a second.” Hands that are steady enough to hang a placard from a rearview mirror.
• Things that keep me from feeling isolated, like Facebook, texting, and phone calls.
• Audiobooks, which help me read without having to try to hold a book.
• My imagination, since there’s so much gratitude for my mind’s ability to imagine myself doing all kinds of activities that my body can’t.
• My hell-bent determination.
• Friends who are willing to support, hold, laugh, share, organize, deliver, listen, cry, advocate, and protect.
• My neighbor who will show up for a beer or in an emergency.
• My son, who continues to give me a reason to keep it real and keep it together.
• My family who shows loyalty and love all the time.
• My dog that protects, soothes, and brings joy to my home.
• My spouse, who says, “Whatever happens, we will figure it out.”

Most of all, I have gratitude for an illness that has taught me the gift of being grateful. For everything and in every moment.