I am sorry to say...

What is wrong with me? If desire could be the catalyst for positive change in my life—I would be channeling Mary Poppins. I want to feel joyful, be thankful, and act full of life. Instead, I am as flat and unchanging as the Yukon River in February.
Of course, I know what is wrong with me; I have progressive MS, the root cause of the fatigue, pain, and depression that seem to define my every minute these days. Of course I know I am loved and wanted and that I contribute to the planet (blah, blah, blah) I can't seem to break past what I know intellectually and really give a damn.
If I try to separate out what is physiological, that is caused by MS and what is situational, that is the reality of being 45 and in the situation I find myself; it is much like trying to sort a basket of sewing needles by the sharpness of the point. At the end of the day, I only know that my fingers are endlessly sore from being pricked.
I haven't written in the past couple of weeks. Honestly, I haven't had much to say. My life seems unchanging and uninteresting. I worry that my 'audience' will tire of my tiresome life.
In rereading the previous words I can't help but feel that I am at once both too frank and too without hope. Yet, when I take a clinical assessment, I am being honest in the options left to me.
The silver chord that holds me together is my faith in a Heavenly Father who leads me to eternity. Yet, this promise is the future. Today I must brush my teeth, put on clean underwear, and be out for a series of appointments. Is the day coming when I can no longer do this? Is that day today?
I don't have any answers. I have 1 hour and 50 minutes to paste myself together. To somehow overcome the nerve pain that is like a living thing in my arms, put aside the fatigue that lays over me like too many layers of heavy wet blankets, and slip on the 'public' me. Beneath it all I cling to my faith and knowing that I am known all the way down to the whorls on my toes, by a God who loves me and accepts me as I am:

^{From Psalm 119...}

²⁵ I am laid low in the dust;

preserve my life according to your word.

²⁸ My soul is weary with sorrow;
       strengthen me according to your word.

Update: the Good, Bad, & Ugly

I am typing one handed and with my non-dominant hand. It isn't an experiment in being a lefty, but the result of spraining my right elbow in a truly scary tumble from my chair to the sidewalk on Sunday afternoon. I was rolling down the street and with my poor peripheral vision, managed to abruptly drive off the sidewalk, have my front wheel drop into a hole and the jarring impact tossed me out of my chair.
The bad is that  I was holding a 9-month old baby when I fell and the good is that she wasn't harmed. Her mom complimented me on falling so protectively. I think that an angel was protecting that little girl, through me. I would gladly have broken any of my bones rather than have anything happen to her. Another good is that while I am achy, bruised, and twisted, for the most part my injuries are quite minor.
Ugly is wading through the frustration and anger of another setback. My MS symptoms are predominantly left sided and I rely on my right side to maintain some semblance of normal.  My right arm is how I drive my chair, transfer, sit up, eat, and on and on. Now, after two days of forcing my left arm to do more, it is becoming weaker and the joints are hurting. Exactly how am I supposed to be armless?
I have bruises on my leg, ankle, butt, and elbow. And, my confidence in being in the world. Already my 'alone' world was reduced to walks around the neighborhood and my house. Now, I have to face that even in walks within a few block radius I can fall and be hurt and stranded. I had a friend with me this time, how could I dare to go out alone?