Words by Patti Bevilacqua
I’ve used the chop saw over 100 times. Paul set up the machine next to the pile of small branches so I didn’t have to walk anywhere. My job today—cut the branches into 12-inch pieces to fit in the wood stove we use to heat our house during the winter.
Measure, mark, cut, toss into a different pile . . . measure, mark, toss . . . measure, mark, toss.
Then I heard an unusual sound . . . zzzzziiipppp. Hmmm, that was odd. I looked around, and there it was—my thumb—lying on the ground under the chop saw.
I looked at my right hand, and the thumb was there. Whew! I looked at my left hand, and the thumb was gone. OMG. There was no pain and no blood—only disbelief.
One of the MS symptoms I live with every day is no feeling in my hands. That’s why I didn’t feel a thing when my thumb nicked the saw blade. And because it happened so fast, the arteries retracted and sealed before the blood had a chance to shoot out of the stub where my thumb used to be.
This was the first time I was glad I had MS.
Some days, MS and I get along.
Other days? My legs ghost me, I can’t control my bladder, and my energy takes a nap I didn’t agree to. It’s a nonstop negotiation—and spoiler alert—I don’t always win. And that really sucks because I used to be a fierce competitor. I kept score in everything, even when it didn’t matter. Now that it does, I feel like I’m always behind in points. But as the saying goes, life is a journey, not a race.
And mine comes with speed bumps, detours, and the occasional flat tire.
I Didn’t Just Get Sick—I Got Lost
No one ever said, “Hey… MS might wreck your sense of self.”
Nobody warned me this could happen. I eventually learned that identity theft is a real side effect of chronic illness.
Before MS, I was the PE teacher who could out-squat her students. Six years after my diagnosis, I was “the one with MS.” I remember going to work, and my colleague would usher me to a bench in the gym. While I sat there feeling lost, she taught our classes together—55 students playing indoor soccer isn’t an easy task—but she did it well.
I had no idea how to treat the meltdown happening inside my soul.
From “I’m Broken” to “I’m Rewired”
I didn’t just think I was broken—I believed it. For 15 years. Truth? I wasn’t broken—I was in the middle of becoming something new. Before I could move forward, I had to stop chasing the old me. I let her go—the version of me who confused output with success and identity.
And I chose this me: the one who honors her limits, owns her truth, and shows up without needing to prove a damn thing.
You Are Not What You Can Do
Disability Pride Month isn’t about making other people feel comfortable with what they don’t understand. It’s not about smiling through it or being anyone’s “you’re so brave” story. It’s about standing in your truth and saying: I’m still me.
Even if I cancel plans.
Even if I need help.
Even if I move through the world differently now.
You are not a list of symptoms. You are not the sum of what you get done in a day. You’re not broken. Your worth didn’t shrink. It got louder, bolder, and way less interested in fitting in.
And that voice in your head? The one calling you lazy or weak? It’s lying. Kick it to the curb.
Let’s talk about the garbage we tell ourselves when our bodies quit without notice:
“You’re lazy.”
“You’re not trying hard enough.”
“You’re a burden.”
That voice? It’s not you. It’s fear, shame, guilt, and burnout dressed up as “motivation.”
Here’s how I shut it down:
- Name it. It served a purpose once. Now it’s in the way.
- Talk to yourself like you would your best friend. Would you tell her she’s weak for needing rest?
- Use the “and.” I’m tired and still worthy. I’m hurting and still showing up.
You don’t need to be your own motivational speaker. You just need to stop being the heckler in the back row.
Mindset Work Isn’t Optional
Why is mindset treated like a bonus when it’s the foundation? Doctors treat the illness—and let’s be real, that usually starts and ends with meds. Mindset treats the fallout. The grief, the shame, the quiet unraveling of your identity. Meds manage symptoms. Mindset keeps you from disappearing.
We need to stop treating physical and mental health like two separate things. Addressing the body but ignoring the emotional wreckage that comes with illness? That’s not full care—it’s a partial fix.
People don’t need another wellness checklist. They need care that sees all of them: mind, body, and everything in between.
So Here’s My Truth:
My body doesn’t always show up. But I do.
Messy. Exhausted. Defiant. Still here.
With my walking poles, my wit, and a “not today, MS” attitude.
I may not be who I was. But I am who I am today.
She’s fire.
She’s fearless.
She’s not waiting for permission.
So if your body’s been saying no lately…
Say yes to this:
You’re still you.
And that’s more than enough.
