I was 41 when I got the call — the MRI showed lesions. Multiple sclerosis. I didn’t even know what that really meant. All I knew was that the fatigue and blurry vision I’d been ignoring weren’t going away. As a small business owner, slowing down wasn’t in my vocabulary. But MS forced me to rethink everything — how I worked, how I rested, how I connected with people. It hasn’t been easy, but in the mess of it, I’ve found clarity. I’ve learned to delegate, to pace myself, and most importantly, to open up. Now I use my story to talk with others going through the same thing. If MS has taught me anything, it’s that vulnerability is a strength, not a weakness.

I started experiencing numbness in my fingers during grad school. At first, I blamed my study habits — too much typing, too little sleep. When I was diagnosed with MS, I felt like my future disappeared overnight. I’d always been the one with a plan — career, family, goals lined up. Suddenly, all of that felt uncertain. But MS didn’t stop me from finishing my degree. It didn’t stop me from becoming a researcher, or from traveling, or falling in love. It changed me, yes — but it also made me more aware of every good day, every act of kindness, every moment of strength. I still have hard days, but I’ve learned to celebrate the small victories. And to me, that’s resilience.

When I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis at 29, I felt like the ground had shifted under me. At first, it was just tingling in my legs — something I brushed off as stress. But within months, I was struggling to walk without support. The hardest part wasn’t the physical symptoms — it was the fear of losing the life I’d built. I’m a teacher, a runner, a mom. MS threatened to take all of that from me. But I’ve learned that strength doesn’t always look like running marathons. Sometimes it’s getting out of bed on the tough days. Sometimes it’s asking for help. Through physical therapy, medication, and the support of my incredible family, I’ve found a new rhythm. MS hasn’t gone away, but it no longer defines me. Every day I choose to keep moving — even if it’s slowly.