A personal essay on attention, resilience, and practical coping—for anyone living with chronic illness, supporting someone who is, or learning to steady themselves under pressure.
The turning point: redefining strength
I’ve always valued athletic performance. Before MS, I measured myself by what my body could do and how far I could push it. MS forced me to reconsider that measure—not because movement stopped mattering, but because I needed a definition of strength that could withstand change. Mobility and physical strength matter, but neither is guaranteed, and neither defines a person’s character.
Some days, I had to scale back. On others, I could train, work, and connect more freely. Either way, my goal became simple: respond with intention rather than react from fear.
I’ve seen that same courage reflected in other people’s stories. Paralympian Sarah Adam has described adapting as her MS progressed—using a wheelchair more often in daily life and transitioning to wheelchair rugby. Her story reminds me that adaptation isn’t “giving up.” It’s choosing an action that fits reality while continuing to express strength and purpose. (Vicky Uhlan, 2025, Momentum/National MS Society)
The work of adapting, again and again
One thing MS taught me quickly is that coping rarely comes from one sweeping breakthrough. More often, it means solving smaller problems, repeatedly.
Mobility is one example. Dee Ecklund describes using an ankle–foot orthosis (AFO) when foot drop became an issue, then updating that support as her needs changed. (Momentum) Foot drop can be associated with demyelination-related weakness and spasticity. (Matta Alderton, 2024, Momentum) Stories like hers helped me accept a difficult truth: needing tools and adjusting doesn’t mean I’m failing. It means I’m finding ways to participate.
Learning to protect my attention
I didn’t realize how much energy I was spending on avoidable distractions—noise, worry, and other people’s expectations—until MS made my energy feel limited. When I began bringing my attention back to what I could actually choose, it became easier to act consistently without letting external approval define success.
Public stories echo this lesson. Walter Williams, co-founder of the O’Jays, described continuing to perform after his MS diagnosis and developing practical strategies to manage his symptoms. (Mike Knight, 2024, Momentum)
What gratitude looked like to me
Gratitude didn’t arrive as a constant feeling. At first, I thought people who spoke about gratitude were ignoring reality. Over time, I learned gratitude can be a discipline—a way to widen the lens so illness isn’t the only story being told. On difficult days, it helped me return to the next right step instead of becoming trapped in rumination.
Sometimes the practice was very small: writing down one thing I had done well, naming one form of support I had used without shame—a person, a tool, or a routine—or choosing an ordinary moment, such as coffee, a shower, or a quiet drive, and giving it my full attention.
Mindfulness in real life
I used to think mindfulness was supposed to feel peaceful. In practice, it often felt like work—especially when life was loud. Appointments, symptoms, family needs, news, and work demands can scatter our attention and leave the nervous system on edge. For me, learning to direct my attention became a health skill, not just a spiritual idea.
Mind–body practices such as meditation and yoga became part of that exploration. Johns Hopkins Medicine describes potential benefits of yoga that include stress management, improved sleep, and gains in balance and flexibility, as well as support for some chronic pain conditions—areas that may matter to many people living with MS.[1]
What research says, briefly
Mindfulness meditation has been associated with reductions in anxiety, depression, and pain in large research reviews, including a JAMA Internal Medicine review covering about 18,000 participants. It may also support sleep and other health behaviors.
Mindfulness-related practices have become more common in the United States. A 2024 report from the National Center for Health Statistics noted long-term growth in the use of complementary health approaches, with yoga showing one of the largest increases.
Many people use guided-practice apps, such as Headspace or Calm, to help build consistency. These tools can provide structure for attention training, but they don’t replace individualized medical care.
One of the most helpful things I learned was that practice can be ordinary. Sometimes I chose a routine task—washing dishes, folding laundry, or taking a shower—and spent just two minutes noticing what was real and present: temperature, texture, breathing, posture. When my mind ran ahead, I brought it back. That was the exercise.
Learning to pace my life
Managing a chronic illness often requires deliberate rest. I had to learn that sleep and recovery aren’t distractions from productivity; they help make functioning possible. Pacing is practical wisdom: it matches effort to capacity, so one difficult day doesn’t take more from the next.
Brief breaks can help restore focus and ease fatigue. Many people notice natural cycles of rising and falling energy, so planned recovery time may help them work and live more steadily.
For me, rest and nutrition weren’t “extra credit.” They became the foundation. I learned that insufficient rest could worsen my experience of symptoms, though the effects can vary from person to person and depend on the course of the disease. Over time, I began treating sustainable habits as a form of protection. Routines I could realistically maintain helped me more than brief bursts of effort followed by overexertion.
Movement, without the pressure to perform
I also had to rebuild my relationship with exercise. Research suggests that aerobic activity and resistance (strength) training can support fatigue, mobility, and quality of life for some people with MS (Motl & Sandroff, 2015; Dalgas et al., 2019; Sandroff et al., 2016). For me, the most important thing wasn’t intensity—it was sustainability. Small, repeatable movement served me better than pushing myself until I crashed.
In practice, that meant starting smaller than I thought I needed to, choosing options that felt manageable, and noticing how I felt the next day—not just during the activity. Consistency came first; intensity could wait.
MS self-management can be strengthened through incremental, repeatable practices. Consistency may offer a steadier path than short bursts of intensity that increase fatigue and make it harder to continue.
When the world is loud
Not every challenge came from inside my body. Some came from the environment: sound, social pressure, and the assumptions people may hold about illness. I had to learn how to protect my peace without isolating myself.
Misophonia: sound sensitivity
Misophonia is a strong aversion or negative response to particular sounds. For some people with chronic illness, including MS, everyday noises—chewing, pen clicking, or repetitive tapping—can trigger intense irritation or distress. That sensitivity can make public spaces, social gatherings, and even home environments more difficult to navigate.
Ableism: social noise
Ableism is bias or unfair assumptions directed at people because of disability or health status. Even “small” comments can accumulate, especially for people with invisible disabilities, creating an exhausting background noise of opinions about what someone should be able to do or how they should cope.
Mindfulness can help create space between a trigger and a response. It doesn’t erase discomfort, but it may lessen the feeling of being taken over by it—whether the trigger is sound, stress, or other people’s judgments.
- Use headphones or calming background sounds, such as white noise or music, to reduce triggers.
- Create a “quiet corner” or a safe routine where your nervous system can settle.
- Set boundaries early: “I need a quieter space,” or “I’m going to step out for a minute.”
- Rehearse simple responses to dismissive comments, and enlist allies when possible.
- If misophonia or stress feels severe, consider seeking professional support for coping strategies.
Living with MS taught me that reducing avoidable stress matters. When I manage sensory triggers and set boundaries with confidence, I preserve energy for what I value: health, relationships, and meaningful work. This isn’t about achieving perfection. It’s about reclaiming agency.
Closing—and an invitation
If there is one thing MS has taught me, it’s that dignity doesn’t require control. It requires practice. I still have hard days, and I still grieve what changes. But I no longer wait to feel fearless before I live. I return to what I can practice today: attention, honesty about my capacity, and one next step that fits reality.
If you’re living with MS, supporting someone who is, or learning to find your footing amid uncertainty, I invite you to keep going at your own pace. Notice what helps, ask for support when you need it, and give yourself permission to adapt. Even in an uncertain life, there is room for purpose, connection, and hope.
Citation:
National Multiple Sclerosis Society. (2025, Summer) Speaking out and shaping future MS treatments together. Momentum, National Multiple Sclerosis Society.
Odes, L.G., Steger, M.F., Delle Fave, Fave, A., & Passmore, J. (Eds.). (2017). The Wiley Blackwell handbook of the psychology of positivity and strength-based approaches at work. Wiley Blackwell.
Hollinger, D.P. (2020). The Anatomy of Grief: How the Brain, Heart, and Body Can Heal After Loss. Yale University Press.HTTPs://dpi.org/10.12987/9780300256086
