How Forgiveness Helps Me Make Peace with MS

My multiple sclerosis (MS) symptoms mean I ask a lot from the people in my life. And well-meaning others sometimes make things worse. In both cases, forgiveness helps transform the experience.

MS demands a lot of us. It demands that we endure chronic symptoms. It demands we stay on treatment when we want to give up.

And it demands we make peace with our — and others’ — limitations.

For many, the “making peace” part of the puzzle is the most challenging. We rationally know that we are not to blame for our MS, but we still get angry at ourselves for what we cannot do. We rationally know that others mean well, but we still get angry at them for their foolish comments.

Admittedly, I am a work in progress, but I strive to substitute anger with compassion and, ultimately, with forgiveness.

To forgive myself for what I can’t do. To forgive others for what they don’t understand.

I do believe we are all trying our best.

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Can you please …?

I can’t imagine how many times I’ve asked my husband for help with a seemingly simple task, like putting on a necklace, sewing a button, zipping a zipper, getting up early to care for a child (years ago) or a dog (now), or cutting a summer outing short.

My numb fingers can’t handle small motor activities, my perpetually fatigued body needs a lot of sleep, and heat renders me useless.

I absolutely hate asking.

And yet, I have no choice.

Reframing the problem

I have no choice because I need help with all those things (and more).

I try to limit my requests when it’s in my power to do so. And I try to handle the task myself first. But, ultimately, I ask because without help, the task wouldn’t get done.

It’s not because I’m lazy or selfish or incompetent. It’s because I have MS. My body doesn’t work the way it should sometimes.

And when I feel anger building, I try to direct it at the disease, at the hand I was dealt.

Not at myself.

It’s not your fault

We’ve all seen “Good Will Hunting,” right? Remember the scene when Sean (Robin Williams) tells Will (Matt Damon) that he was not to blame for the childhood abuse he endured?

Like a broken record, Sean tries repeatedly to break through Will’s bravado: “It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault, it’s not your fault.”

Nonchalantly, and then like an eye-rolling teenager, Will responds coolly, “I know, I know.”

Eventually, Sean’s words break through, and Will gets it.

And then he cries.

I think about that scene a lot.

The stories we could tell

If you’ve had MS for any extended period, you’ve likely encountered well-meaning others who share comments that are simply … well, ridiculous. They tell you about the vitamins that cure MS and the doctor whose magic touch relieves the body of all pain.

Then, there are the armchair psychologists who profess a simple mind shift to wipe away your sadness. When I was diagnosed, a relative told me I shouldn’t be too upset because nobody knew what the future held for them. A bus could hit her tomorrow, she argued, and land her in a wheelchair, too.

And we all know the people who complain endlessly about that cold that won’t go away or the ache in their shoulder that is so annoying. How unlucky they are! How much pity they deserve!

Yeah, it’s tough to deal with these comments sometimes.

Another approach

And yet the comments continue, so we must address them.

For the most part, I know those sharing (bogus) cures are genuinely trying to help. Even if their information is faulty, their motivation is good. They want to pass along hope. I simply thank these well-meaning acquaintances and say I’ll investigate (it’s a coin flip as to whether I do).

The armchair psychologists? I was too raw in those early days to respond to my relative’s absurd comparison of my MS diagnosis to her routine existence. (How many people get hit by buses anyway?) But now, I smile when someone offers a simple solution to my complex illness.

“If only that were true.”

And for the hypochondriacs out there? It sounds Pollyannish, but I honestly pity them. There is so much they don’t understand.

Perhaps grasping the sense of “perspective” is a gift reserved only for those who have truly suffered.

The solution

Ultimately, the answer for dealing with our limitations and the answer for dealing with the limitations of others is the same: forgiveness.

We have to forgive ourselves for needing help.

Like Will in the movie, it is not our fault.

And we have to forgive others, too.

They are also trying, and their comments simply reflect what they believe to be true.

A slow process

I’ve lived with MS for nearly 30 years, and I still struggle with forgiveness at times. Some days, my patience is stingier than I’d like it to be, and I slip into anger.

But forgiveness is the North Star I aim for, the answer to so many of life’s trials, I think.

And, unlike that doctor’s magic hands, it really does ease our pain.