Exclusive Content

Most people wouldn’t think of the day they were diagnosed with a chronic illness as something to celebrate. But for those of us living with multiple sclerosis, that day marks something more than a medical milestone. It’s the moment everything changed and we began learning what we’re really made of.

For me, that day was June 10, 2005.

I had just been released from the hospital, and I still didn’t know what was wrong with me. I had lost sensation and strength in my legs, my back was on fire with nerve pain, and spinal headaches knocked me down every time I tried to sit up. Then came the call. The neurologist had reviewed my spinal tap results and asked to meet with my wife and me. When he walked into the room and said the words “You have multiple sclerosis,” it felt like the ground beneath me disappeared.

It’s been 21 years since that moment.

Twenty-one years of questions. Twenty-one years of treatment decisions, MRIs and infusions. And many were the days I didn't want to get off the couch. 

But also 21 years of living, growing, parenting, partnering, writing, and walking my dog every morning.

I write a lot about my experience with MS, but when I shared a post about my 20-year milestone, I was overwhelmed by the response. People from all over reached out to say how much it resonated with them. 

And I started to wonder: Why this post? Why this story?

Maybe it’s the number. Twenty years felt like something worth acknowledging. Or maybe it’s what the number represents: perseverance.

There’s a moment in every MS journey when you stop asking, “When will this go away?” and start asking, “How can I live with this?” For me, that moment came gradually, and it still comes, day-by-day. There are setbacks. There’s grief but there is also gratitude. Every year that passes without progression on the EDSS scale – and every year I can still do the things I love – is a year worth celebrating.

I don’t celebrate my diagnosis day because I’m glad MS entered my life. I celebrate it because it reminds me I survived that moment, and everything that followed.

It’s the day I mark how far I’ve come. I’ve now lived with MS for 21 years, nearly half my life. That makes this anniversary feel like a kind of second birthday. It’s a reminder of who I became the moment I lost control over my body, but decided not to give up on my life.

We don't talk enough in this community about how important that day is. We remember the fear, but we rarely stop to honor what it means to keep going. To still be here. Still fighting. Still growing. Still hoping.

If you’re reading this and you’ve been living with MS, whether it’s been two weeks or 21 years, I want to encourage you to mark your own diagnosis day. Not as a source of pain, but as proof of your power.

Because that day didn’t break you. It began a new version of you. And that version is stronger than you think.