Let Fall Carry Me

Summer is almost over.

And surprisingly, I can say it was a good one.

I did what I could.

Those five words mean more to me now than they once did.

I didn’t conquer the summer. I didn’t suddenly become stronger than MS. I didn’t wake up healed or become some inspirational version of disability people sometimes expect us to be.

I simply lived.

I spent time with people I love. I celebrated my family. I laughed. I rested. I stayed home when my body asked me to. I went out when I felt able.

Some days I had more to give.

Other days, getting through the day was enough.

And somewhere between all of it, I struggled more than I like to admit.

Lately, I’ve caught myself wondering how much I have left in my MS tank.

Not life.

Fight.

How many more difficult mornings? How many more negotiations with my body? How many more times do I have to adjust, adapt, accept, and then adjust again?

I don’t know.

And I’m starting to understand that I don’t always need to know.

Sometimes I need quiet. Sometimes I need gratitude. And sometimes I need to pay closer attention to the energy I allow around me.

I believe energy matters.

You don’t have to share my spiritual beliefs to understand what I mean. Most of us know what it feels like to walk away from someone feeling lighter. We also know what it feels like to leave a conversation completely drained.

Some people bring peace. Some bring chaos.

Some environments allow you to breathe. Others make your entire nervous system feel like it’s working overtime.

Call it energy. Call it chemistry. Call it intuition. Call it whatever makes sense to you.

I’ve become more protective of mine.

Living with MS has taught me that my energy isn’t unlimited. I have to decide where it goes and, more importantly, where it no longer belongs.

Physical energy. Emotional energy. Mental energy. Spiritual energy.

All of it matters.

I’m also learning that protecting my peace doesn’t require anger toward anyone. I don’t need to decide someone is a bad person simply because their presence is no longer good for me.

Sometimes distance is enough.

Sometimes letting go is enough.

And sometimes the most spiritual thing I can do is sit quietly, admit that today was hard, and still find one thing worth being grateful for.

That has become my version of faith.

Not certainty.

Not believing everything happens for a reason.

Not pretending difficult things are secretly blessings.

I simply believe there is still goodness available to me.

Even here.

Even with MS.

Even on the days when my tank feels close to empty.

So as summer gives way to fall, I’m not asking the next season to fix me.

I’m asking it to carry me for a while.

Give me the cooler mornings I love. Give me open windows, hoodies, crisp air, quiet evenings, and a body that doesn’t have to fight the heat quite so hard.

Give me more time with my wife.

More conversations with my children.

More laughter. More writing.

More moments when I forget about MS for five damn minutes and simply feel like Jon.

Summer was good to me.

I did what I could with it.

Now I’m ready for fall.

I’m entering this season with less pressure to prove how strong I am and more appreciation for how much life is still happening around me.

My tank might not always be full.

But there is still something in it.

Love.