There are things this disease slowly takes from you that no one else even notices. Not the dramatic things people can easily see, but the quiet pieces of yourself that slowly begin slipping away while you are fighting to hold on to something bigger.
Sometimes it is not even about giving something up completely. Sometimes it is about becoming less attached to the things that once brought you joy because you simply do not have the same energy for them anymore.
Multiple Sclerosis was not the catalyst for my decision. It was not some sudden moment where I decided to stop caring about certain things. It happened gradually as this disease affected my life more and more and began taking a little more from me over time. Sometimes it is the things you made or did yourself you may become less attached to because, after Multiple Sclerosis stole so much of your energy or even ones mobility, they just did not feel as important anymore.
The only thing that really comes to my mind was something I truly loved doing for myself.
When I was in my early twenties, I started doing something not many people I knew were doing yet. I began doing my own nails. Back then, almost fifty years ago, nail salons were nothing like they are now.
They were not on seemingly on every other corner like we see now in many places. But I was deeply into fashion then. I designed outfits for a few shows I modeled in, and sometimes I designed my own outfits for the shows or wore the clothes they furnished. It was a beautiful and fun few years of my life.
That was when I started doing my own nails. They were not as fancy as the professionals do them today, but honestly, the only way anyone usually knew they were not professionally done was if I had one of those nail malfunctions, like one popping off unexpectedly. But I am telling you, I did my nails faithfully for over twenty years straight. Through pregnancy, through working in a high-volume mail facility, through exhaustion and life itself, I stayed into it.
I remember sitting outside church on a Sunday morning or two putting on my fingernails. I was serious about that look for myself. It was part of my beauty routine, part of my self-care, part of how I expressed myself as a woman, i guess. Never in my life did I have naturally long, strong nails no matter what I tried. When they grew even a little, they would break. But I loved my bought nails. I always kept glue, fingernails, and nail polish nearby. The size and style I wore were practically customized in my mind because I knew exactly what worked for my hands.
It worked out well though, when one cracked, broke, or flew off somewhere, I was prepared. That was just part of my ritual. I did it for twenty years.
Then somewhere around those difficult days before I lost my mobility nearly twenty years ago, it slowly became less and less important to me. Not because I was depressed. Not because I stopped loving beautiful things. I was simply too tired mentally and physically to care about that part of myself the same way anymore. I was fighting harder battles by then. Fighting to keep my independence became more important than obsessing over my nails.
And when you are in the middle of trying to hold on to your mobility, your strength, your dignity, and pieces of your independence, certain vanities quietly move further and further down the list without you even realizing it.
Lately, though, I have been thinking about it more. I think in the last eight or ten years, I may have only truly taken the time to beautify my hands maybe four times for.
Recently, I noticed my neighbor’s nails with that beautiful chrome polish they wear now, and I thought they looked absolutely gorgeous. I felt the same way when I saw my sister-in-law’s nails over a year ago. Something about it stirred a memory in me. Not just about nails, but about me. About the woman who once enjoyed those little rituals for herself.
Maybe that is another lesson this disease teaches you. Sometimes reclaiming pieces of yourself does not always have to be something huge or life-changing. Sometimes it can be as simple as remembering something you once loved and allowing yourself to enjoy it again without guilt.
So I think before this year is over, but definitely for my birthday, I am going to do what I used to do again. I am going to take the time to beautify my hands. I just will not obsess over them the way I did many years ago.
But maybe, just maybe, it will feel good reconnecting with that small beautiful piece of myself again. I will be going to a salon this time, I just wouldn't be bothered doing this myself or learning a new technique to make them last longer.
Sometimes it is the things you made happen yourself, you become less attached to because, after Multiple Sclerosis steals so much of your lifes energy, those things just do not feel as important anymore.
Icerlene Jones-Wiley is an ordained minister, author and handcrafted jewelry designer who writes honestly about faith, life, beauty, and living with Multiple Sclerosis.
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