About 28 years ago, I was assigned a label.  I was told I have MS, Multiple Sclerosis.  The questions and answers began to manifest in an unusual manner, almost like an O. Henry story, a conclusion that ultimately would surprise me in the end.

To begin with, opportunities of gifting continually anchor a feeling that I have a place and intent in this world.  Giving back some form of joy, pleasure, security, safety and love fulfills a sense of my ‘wellth’ balance with purpose and mission.  That year, month, week, I donated my time to raise funds for the Multiple Sclerosis Society wholeheartedly unaware of any correlation between my experience and the outcome.  My body was going through physical challenges contrary to my overall healthy constitution.

Conceptually, it felt as though I was going through a revolving door, coming in and out of a mirrored room that showed reflections of me, yet it did not appear like me.  I lost sight of Caryl, living what appeared to be dis-easiness with my body.  Many aspects of my well being no longer had the same functionality.  I woke up with a barrage of neurological symptoms that later would wane and appear with little or no fore warning, and cash in my healthy reality for one that appeared as dis-ease.

Yes, the doctor stated clearly you probably have MS.  The words echoed within my being, as if I was given a death sentence.   I was handed an exit sign to hold up, “Look at me; I am doomed to a world of disappointments, difficulties and disturbances.”  I laughed out loud at the notion that I was raising monies for the very neurological disease he had labeled me.  I screeched out, “Is this a joke?”  I asked myself, “Whose life is this anyway?  I would never write this act in my play!”

I wore my sign proudly, as I reflected outwardly, “Look at me, I am incredible, I can handle anything.”  Yet, in my silence I was riddled with fear, filled with despair and disillusionment.  I kept the echoes of my screams locked in the portal of my being.  I walked around as a martyr, always striving to extremes to prove that I could do more; I was selectively in denial, one of non-acceptance.   Ultimately I wore my body, mind, spirit frail.

Accepting the diagnosis and prognosis, I engaged in Western Medicine and willingly took medication for MS for over 7 years, having my liver monitored periodically.  Now in hindsight, I placed my body through additional unneeded trauma.

Subsequently I pledged to find other solutions, riding the merry-go-round of seeing the next, the best, the newness and most non-traditional doctors to see if I could switch my label for something that may be more appealing.

One day I woke up and decided to forgo the label, never affirm my being with a disease but rather approach any irregularity as a change and transition for the day, perhaps the next day I would feel even better than yesterday.  Ironically my sign was stripped away from me.  I gave the label back in recognition that it never serves any purpose.

Most fascinating, the doctors declared that I did not have MS after all.  My neurological issues could have, might have, and possibly could be the exposure to toxicity.  I declared, “It does not matter, I will never accept a label again”.  I learned that the label of MS literally took my breath away, suffocated my existence, killed relationships and almost drove someone extremely dear away.

The authenticity is being genuine with your physicality.  Be present.  Admit when your body needs more care, and acknowledge the need for self-pampering and accept help from others.  One that truly gives must learn to receive.  Then strive for a better thought, reach for every positive element that will assist you to a place of wellness.  If you need to shut down, accept the act in honoring ones place in time.  Know that labeling only creates separation, a disparity to wellness.  Set yourself free, release the label and focus on your pathway to wellness.  I did!  Hope you will too!

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