I'm only half-kidding when I pose that question to my own reflection. In the years I've lived with MS, the pounds have slowly crept up on me like a pair of shoddy polyester pants. More often than not, I barely recognize myself as the woman I once was. My muscles are no longer strong and supple; my energy level is non-existent. Step aerobics and treadmills are now a distant and fuzzy memory. For the first time in my life I now count calories (horrors!) in order to keep my weight from ballooning. It occurred to me-with a shade of sadness and a tinge of amazement-that I don't even remember what it feels like to walk without a limp or a cane! As I watch the changes my physical body has endured, I feel as if I am trapped inside a condemned building and can't get out.
In many ways I've accepted multiple sclerosis as a part of my life. But all too often, it's really hard for me to look in the mirror and actually like what I see. I'm more likely to wince at my image rather than to give myself an affirming smile. How did I become so adversarial with my physical self? And better yet, how can I continue to love my body when I so often feel betrayed by it?
A Weighty Issue
According to Sandra Cole, Ph.D., director of the Sexuality Training Center at the University of Michigan Medical Center in Ann Arbor,
"A disability shatters our image of ourselves. Changes in how the body looks, loss of independence, diminishment of a traditional role-all of these can impact on our image of ourselves..."1
Truer words were never spoken. The sheer number of MS symptoms and side effects from medications can cause fundamental changes in how my body looks and feels. It's no wonder that the reflection I see in the mirror is at odds with the image of myself in my mind's eye. Symptoms such as spasticity, tremors, weight gain, foot dragging, muscular weakness, and fatigue can virtually change the visual appearance of the body. Add to that the emotional dimension of living with chronic illness-guilt, denial, depression, and anxiety-and it becomes even more difficult to view a body affected by MS in a positive light.
On one hand, I realize that when I examine my body in such a critical way, I am creating negative energy for myself which is completely counterproductive to striving for wellness. On the other hand, learning to love a chronically ill body is easier said than done because the issues can be emotionally complex. Of course, a mental health professional can be an enormous asset in helping to work through body issues. But on a more "self-help"-inspired note, I've discovered a couple of strategies that have been helpful to me in reaffirming a positive concept of self, regardless of my current or future level of disability.
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