Most of the time, misery is a choice…
I have multiple sclerosis; a pretty tough neurological disease for which there’s no cure. And I got it only a few years after beating back a pretty serious cancer for which it once looked there might not be a cure.
Again, I’m not trying to win points, just make this point: Illness doesn’t define who I am or how I feel. It’s shaken my life, but it hasn’t sapped one iota of my enthusiasm for life.
Sure, there are many days I wish my voice could be stronger, my legs sturdier, and my eyesight clearer, but I can’t count on these things. Only that living is worth dealing with all of these things.
Jack is right: I don’t know jack about misery, but that’s only because I choose not to be miserable.
(emphasis added)
On a slightly personal note, I wish my mother could understand this.
