Growing up in a small town in Canada, I played sports throughout high school. My physical education teacher inspired me so much that I decided to become one myself. I felt I had an exciting life ahead and had gotten an early start.
Then, one January morning in 1990, when I was still 22, I woke up with sudden double vision. There was a strange, blurry quality I’d never experienced before, and my heart raced.
That single symptom began a series of changes. They toppled the sense of certainty I had spent my entire life building. I was a high achiever with one plan: to teach physical education until I retired. However, I soon learned that life does not always let you drive. Sometimes, it tosses you into the passenger seat and hits the gas.
A Life-Altering Diagnosis
When the double vision did not resolve, I visited an ophthalmologist. I was then sent for an MRI, scans, tests, and additional eye exams. At every appointment, I hoped the doctor would call it a minor glitch. I wanted to hear that all I needed was eye drops or a quick procedure.
Instead, I was diagnosed with relapsing-remitting multiple sclerosis. Twelve years later, the diagnosis changed to secondary progressive MS.
That hit me like a brick. I associated MS with wheelchairs and severe disability because that’s all I’d seen on TV shows about the condition. Suddenly, my vision issue was no longer a standalone problem. It was a symptom of something bigger and scarier. I knew immediately that my old strategies of just pushing through discomfort as an athlete wouldn’t cut it this time. I couldn’t outsmart my body’s newfound rebellion. Before this, I had not faced any major physical challenges. I was healthy, active, and loving my life.
The emotion that overshadowed all others was helplessness; it felt like I was stumbling in the dark. There were many days when I felt insecure about my future. I also felt that nobody understood what I was experiencing because I still looked the same to the outside world. But inside, I was battling a new sense of vulnerability. At the time of my diagnosis, I was not offered treatment. The available options were far more limited then. My physical symptoms were also considered minor, although the mental health effects were significant.
More than 35 years after my diagnosis, now at age 57, I can see that MS set me on a path of questioning and learning. Along the way, I discovered a resilience I never knew I possessed. But it took a long time to get to that point.
Learning to Pivot
Before MS, I felt unstoppable. I was the teacher who challenged students to push harder and believe in themselves. We even laughed in the face of fatigue. Nearly five years after my diagnosis, however, my MS symptoms became more intense. My body felt like it was on fire.
My dream job became increasingly difficult because of fatigue and balance problems. Eventually, I could no longer continue and decided to quit.
My partner, Paul, and I decided that I should return to my hometown. There, my parents could help care for me. A heaviness settled in, a loss of hope, a numbness that seeped into every corner of my spirit. My body felt foreign, with my arms too heavy to lift and my legs aching with fatigue.
As anyone with MS knows, the disease comes with a whole bag of tricks. The physical symptoms were crushing enough, but the greatest blow was how it wreaked havoc on my mental state. I felt like a burden to my parents, and I was definitely going through the stages of grief.
Then, a principal from the same school district called me. Another school needed a social studies teacher. I worried about having enough energy to be in a classroom every day. Even so, I felt a flicker of excitement. Maybe this could be my new path forward?
While I missed the gym every single day, I gave my students everything I had. I began to learn how to disentangle myself from the plans I once refused to abandon. Letting go in that way is terrifying, but sometimes, it’s the only way to make space for what’s next.
I taught social studies for only another four years. Even so, the experience inspired me to return to school. In 2001, I began pursuing my Ph.D. at the University of Toronto. I could no longer teach physical education myself. However, I believed I could still support and guide others on that path. During my Ph.D. program, I gave a presentation about losing my identity as a physical education teacher. In the middle of speaking, an intense wave of emotion overcame me, and I broke down in tears.
Instead of responding with discomfort or judgment, my professor and classmates gathered around me with empathy rather than pity. That moment became another turning point in my life.
Allowing myself to feel those emotions changed my perspective. I realized how tightly I had been holding onto what MS had taken from me. I had not remained open to what might still be possible.
Maybe something better was waiting for me. I simply could not see it because I was holding too tightly to who I once was. Most importantly, I began to understand that I was not alone.
Making Connections
After earning my Ph.D., I taught at Ithaca College in New York for one year. At the same time, I applied for full-time positions at other colleges and universities. Despite my experience and credentials, I faced repeated rejections. Over time, I realized I didn’t need a traditional classroom. I could still share my passion and live my purpose. In 2021, I started a Facebook community called “MS Stands for Mindset Shift.” In 2024, I followed it with an online newsletter called “Seeing Differently.” Through both platforms, I share lived experiences and practical insights. I also offer strategies for living well with a hidden illness or invisible challenge.
Those writings eventually became my memoir, MS doesn’t define ME: The Biography of a Polymath, published in 2025. I also began appearing on podcasts to discuss living with MS. Earlier, in 2023, I delivered a TEDx talk about hidden illness and resilience.
Today, much of my focus is on speaking and facilitating workshops through my company, fearLESS with MS. I speak to many different groups. Some are dealing with invisible health challenges beyond MS. Others are facing difficulties involving family, employment, or finances.
I also talk to college students about how to be more adaptable and resilient.
My symptoms have not significantly worsened. Double vision remains in my right eye, although a prism in my glasses helps me see more clearly. I also walk with a limp.
Falls happen two to three times a week, but luckily, I have not broken any bones. Walking remains part of my daily routine. Sometimes I walk for just 20 minutes, while other times I continue for an hour. I always use walking poles.
I can still drive, but I cannot run anymore.
Some of my ideas about resilience and mindset also apply to other situations. At their core, they are about owning your story and understanding how you respond to unpredictability. Uncertainty from one day to the next is a hallmark of MS. Learning to navigate it is important. Living unapologetically is something I often talk about, although it has not been easy to achieve. There have been days when I wanted to quit doing anything and simply work on jigsaw puzzles instead. But that is not how a sense of purpose develops.
The message behind my speeches, writing, and conversations is simple. Challenges are not always roadblocks. Sometimes, they are detours that lead to unseen opportunities. Every opportunity to communicate and connect can tax my energy. However, those experiences also fill me with passion and meaning.
I’m grateful every morning to MS for continuing to help me show up and teach in new ways.
Source Note: Adapted from an interview originally published on HealthCentral: MS Changed the Way This Author Lived Her Story
