The last couple of weeks have been really heavy emotionally.
It's so stupid and I feel like I don't have a right to feel sad, hurt or depressed — but the truth is, I do.
I’m scared that my MS will steal my dream before I ever get to have it come true - again.
For over 30 years (yeah, I'm old as fu*k), I’ve dreamed of owning an old VW Beetle. I don’t want a shiny restored one, just a rusty little bug I can drive around with. I can see it so clearly—hear the engine, feel the wheel under my hands.
But with this illness slowly advancing, I know I don’t have endless years of driving ahead of me.
And that terrifies me.
To some, it might seem like a small thing. But to me, it’s been a light in the distance for decades.
When I was a bullied kid and a lonely teen, cars were my escape (the healthy one of my two escapes).
In my early adulthood, they quite literally kept me alive—I drove through endless nights just to breathe.
I’ve owned a few cars in my life, but never my dream car.
And it breaks my heart to think… I might never will.
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Nana
Juha