When people talk about acceptance, I think they often imagine reaching a place where you’re completely at peace with everything that has happened. If that’s what acceptance is supposed to look like, I haven’t found it.
There are still days I get angry. Days I miss the things Multiple Sclerosis has taken from me. Days when I wonder why this had to happen. But over the years, I’ve learned that acceptance isn’t the absence of grief. It’s learning to carry both grief and gratitude at the same time.
I was diagnosed with MS in 2009. Like many people living with chronic illness, I didn’t just have to adjust once. I’ve had to adjust over and over again as new symptoms appeared, abilities changed, and plans shifted.
Acceptance hasn’t been a destination I’ve arrived at. It’s been a practice. And honestly, some days I do better at it than others.
There are still moments when the unfairness of it all hits hard.
Some days, like today, my legs feel like they weigh 500 pounds each. Every step feels like I’m walking through wet concrete. Walking from one room to another can leave me exhausted. The things most people never think twice about suddenly require planning, determination, and energy I don’t always have.
Some days I need help with things that used to be automatic. Lifting my leg out of the car. Getting into bed. Tasks that seem so simple until your body no longer cooperates.
Sometimes my brain knows exactly what I want to say, but the wrong word comes out instead. It can be frustrating, embarrassing, and a reminder that MS doesn’t just affect my legs—it affects so many parts of daily life. It’s one of those symptoms people don’t see, but I notice it every day.
Then there are the things people often don’t think about, like temperature. Too hot and my symptoms get worse. Too cold and my symptoms get worse. Something as simple as a hot summer day, an unexpected cold snap, or spending too much time in the heat can affect how well my body functions. Over the years, there have been times when our family had to adjust plans, leave events early, or skip activities altogether because my body simply couldn’t tolerate the conditions.
Those moments can be disappointing. But they’ve also taught us flexibility and the importance of focusing on what matters most rather than what went according to plan.
And then there are the trade-offs. I love kayaking. Being on the water feeds my soul. But I’ve also learned that what looks like a fun afternoon for someone else may require two days of recovery for me afterward. If I choose the activity, I know I also need to choose the rest that follows.
These are the realities of living with MS.
And while I don’t always like them, fighting against reality only makes the struggle harder.
For a long time, I thought acceptance meant I had to stop feeling sad, frustrated, or disappointed. I thought maybe if I were stronger, more positive, or had more faith, those feelings would disappear.
What I’ve learned instead is that acceptance makes room for all of it.
The grief.
The frustration.
The fear.
The gratitude, joy, and hope.
Sometimes all in the same day.
Acceptance hasn’t meant pretending these challenges don’t exist. It hasn’t meant giving up or lowering my expectations for life.
It has meant learning to work with the body I have today instead of constantly grieving the body I had yesterday.
One of the biggest shifts for me happened when I stopped asking, “Why can’t I do what I used to do?” and started asking, “What can I still do today?” That doesn’t mean lowering my expectations or giving up on goals.
It means focusing my energy on the things that are still available to me instead of spending all of it mourning what isn’t.
Some days that means kayaking.
Some days it means taking a walk outside.
Some days it means writing, teaching, or encouraging someone else.
Some days it is just getting the dishes done.
And some days it simply means resting and trusting that rest is productive too.
MS has taken things from me. I won’t pretend otherwise. But it has also taught me things I may never have learned any other way.
It has taught me compassion.
It has taught me patience.
It has taught me that everyone is carrying something you cannot see.
It has taught me to celebrate small victories.
It has taught me to slow down enough to notice blessings I might have rushed past before.
Most importantly, it has reminded me how precious relationships really are.
My family has walked this journey with me every step of the way. Over the years, we’ve all had to adapt. There have been days when I needed help with things I once did without a second thought. There have been plans that changed, activities that looked different, and moments when everyone had to adjust expectations. There have been times when someone simply offered an arm to steady me, helped me get out of the car, or slowed their pace so I could keep up.
But something beautiful happened along the way. Rob and I have grown closer through it all. We’ve learned to talk about our fears, frustrations, and emotions more openly than we ever did before. When life gets hard, we lean on each other instead of trying to carry everything alone.
I’ve also watched my children become more aware of the struggles other people may be carrying. They notice when someone needs help. They hold doors open. They offer assistance without being asked. They’ve learned that not every challenge is visible and that a little kindness can make a big difference.
I would never have chosen this path. But seeing the compassion, patience, and understanding that have grown within our family has been one of the unexpected blessings along the journey.
In many ways, MS has brought us closer. Not because the disease itself is a gift. But because hard things have a way of revealing what matters most.
I still have bad days.
I still get discouraged.
I still wonder what the future holds.
Acceptance hasn’t changed that. What it has changed is how long I stay there. I’ve learned to acknowledge the hard feelings without letting them become the entire story.
I’ve learned that two things can be true at the same time:
I wish I didn’t have MS.
And I still love my life.
I grieve what I’ve lost. And I celebrate what remains.
There are still things I don’t understand about this journey. But I trust that God has been with me through every step, even on the days when the path feels especially hard.
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. None of us do.
But today, I can choose to look for the good. I can choose to focus on what is still possible. I can choose gratitude without denying reality. And maybe that’s what acceptance really is.
Not giving up.
Not pretending everything is okay.
Not forcing positivity.
Just learning, one day at a time, how to hold both the sorrow and the beauty together.
If you’re walking through your own chronic illness, loss, or life challenge, I hope you know this:
You don’t have to choose between grief and gratitude.
There is room for both.
And sometimes healing begins when we stop fighting that truth.
Repeat these positive affirmations to yourself...
* I am resilient and can overcome life's challenges.
* I am strong and have the power to make the right choices for me.
* I am grateful for what I can do.
"I grieve what I’ve lost. And I celebrate what remains." <3