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.