Sometimes like this weekend, for example, things will get to me. I attended a wedding weekend in paradise, bikini-clad in the Florida Keys, spending time with really great people, many of whom I’m meeting for the first time. And moreover, they’re meeting me for the first time. I was the best man’s date; his younger brother was getting married. I love social environments and enjoy meeting new people, especially those close to the people I love.

I was diagnosed at 23 years old. Beginning then, I decided it was all I could do to keep my life and my health in control where I could. I value keeping up on my treatment, staying healthy, and taking the disease seriously. It puts me at ease knowing I am actively doing all I can, and I’m proud of that. After locking down the “controllable” details (regimenting injections, exercise, diet, keeping up with friends and relationships, living in a positive environment, and embracing happiness), I’m freed up then to make the best choices possible when confronted with “life.” In this way, I am generally relaxed and comfortable in my own skin, navigating situations with conscious control and attention. When I’m walking around with injection site spots at a beautiful beach resort, that’s a time it’s a little easier to forget to be sensitive to the topic.

I’ve been able to stay healthy without experiencing too many symptoms too often. So for an otherwise healthy 27 year-old girl, it’s the (we’ll call them) “little things” that I’ll forget about. And truthfully, to me it seems those things can affect everyone else before they affect me. I attribute it to fear of the unknown. “Anna, you are SO sunburned on the top of your leg and on your hips! How does that even happen? Or is that a bruise? Hey, is your man beating you!?” (Referring to the best man.) Bless his heart…

Living with MS and injection site reactions and red welts, those marks and bruises from the shots that slow down the disease, I’ll forget about them unless they hurt or become somehow more inflamed. My boyfriend is mostly used to them, but I know it makes him sad that they’re even there at all; it’s just another reminder of the MS. When people see bruises in weird places, they’ll assume the man you’re with is probably the one beating you… You notice those looks and darting eyes. We talk about it and how he feels, and sometimes if I do something clumsy or forgetful, he’ll think, “Is that the MS?” and then he’ll go, “Do I have MS?” (Referring to himself.) Adorable.

Bottom line is, I don’t worry about people feeling awkward when I tell them that I have MS, I’m not embarrassed, and I’ll talk about it to anyone who’s curious. Once the unknown becomes understood, nothing’s a big deal, and in some strange way, it can make the connection deeper and easier. The whole thing seems to make me a more compassionate and happier person. The reactions when I tell a concerned party not to worry, are something between a quizzical look and concern, so then I’ll go on, “I have MS.” And then the, “Oh I’m so sorry,” etc. I guess why it gets to me, really, is because I feel like some people are condescending, or something even more cavalier. I’m doing everything I can do to control what I can and be the healthiest I can be, but those red spots are a blessing, and I’ve grown to learn to see them that way.