Clandestine Tears

MS sometimes controls my emotions.

“A wise man, recognizing that the world is but an illusion, does not act as if it is real, so he escapes the suffering.”

MS is always there. Sitting in me. Waiting to attack. It’s like everyday my body is playing a cruel trick on me. Numbness and muscle spasms are my new normals. It’s taking a lot out of me to stay up and active and there are times I cannot use my arms, sit up right or even think straight.

At times, MS controls not only my body but also my emotions. I feel sadness, anger and grief all at once. It’s a melancholy cloud that hangs over my head until I can’t take anymore.

And that’s when I cry.

It seems as if every single night I have a little cry. I usually do it when no one is looking. I go in the bathroom, close the door, turn on the faucet water and just cry. I have been doing this for years.

I always thought no one knew about it until the other day my husband ask me why I was crying.

I defensively replied, “What are you talking about? I wasn’t crying.”

He said, “Sure you were. I could hear you in the bathroom. I usually don’t say anything but this time you seemed to be in there longer than usual.”

I was taken a back by what he had said.

“Wait! You can hear me?” I yelled. “You have always known that I cry in the bathroom? Why didn’t you say anything?”

He replied, “Everyone needs sometime to grieve and I was just allowing you to have your time.”

I must admit I appreciate that time and that he allows me to have my clandestine tears.

Author: Nicole Lemelle

My name is Nicole Lemelle. I am a writer, activist and a person living with Multiple Sclerosis. I created My New Normals to educate those who do not understand MS, reassure people with similar plights and inspire everyone to seize command of their lives.

23 thoughts on “Clandestine Tears”

  1. You have a wonderful husband. I also have a keeper. He is my brain now that cog fog has me on two Alzheimer’s drugs. I would be lost without him. We are lucky we have good men in our lives.

  2. I am new to your blog. I am really enjoying it, and find it a great source if comfort. I cry all the time too about my MS or some secondary issue related to MS, you are not alone!

  3. Nicole,

    I look forward reading your thought, they are always so relatable. MS feels overwhelming to me right now. My mother had MS for as long as I could remember, although it wasn’t officially diagnosed for years. She was my best friend. We lost her to Secondary Progressive MS, and 8 months later I was diagnosed as Primary Progressive. I had been mistakenly diagnosed as having lupus. Less than 1 year later my son was diagnosed with Relapsing Remitting MS. I’m in a chair now. As a patient, the child of , and the parent of someone with MS. I’m always encouraged by hearing how someone else is coping.

    Be well!

  4. MS doesn’t exist. There is no “it” to do things to you. It’s just the name we give our symptoms.

    But yeah, things suck, sometimes. Be true to the pain; grief is a gift that lets us release things and make room for something better. Frankly, could use a few more tears… I think things might work better with more of that cruft out of the way. So,,, good for you! Give your grief back to wherever it came from… we don’t need to “bank” grief. And then… live!

  5. Nicole,
    I love that quote as it seems that we have to create our own bubble to protect us from Those that would harm our soul. You are a special person who is encouraging so many people who are suffering and this is a safe place to share. May God’s love and peace surround you and your family. Your hubby sounds like a one in a million!

  6. Hi Nicole,

    I do the same thing. I’m a single mom, and I don’t like to cry in front of my kids. Sometimes when I’m in the shower I just let all my tears out, and I just keep saying over and over “why me”. Every week I look forward to reading your posts, because they are so real and inspiring.

    Take care,
    Erika

  7. Nicole, do not let this beast control you. I have been where you are, crying over anything & everything. I now take Paxil & it has been a lifesaver for me. it is very difficult to admit the need for “help”, but the grieving for what was seemed to be taking over my life. There is very little I can do; I can’t walk, shower, dress, clean or drive at all. I have limited use of my right hand, & no use of my left hand/arm, my right & left foot/leg. My husband works, so I am home all day alone & he travels also which means someone must stay with me overnight. I type with my index finger; I’m in my scooter 24/7, but I feel much better since I’m on Paxil. Will my life get better? No. Can I deal with it now? Yes. Crying is something I don’t seem to do anymore unless I’m watching a tear jerker movie! I now have 2 grandchildren who I desperately want to be here for.

  8. That describes exactly how I sometimes feel too. I guess what your husband says is true but you do he cares.
    I won’t say perhaps you won’t cry anymore because that would be a futile statement. I do believe we all need to let tears flow at times.

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