Losing my mind

One of the less recognised effects of MS (or I suspect any chronic illness) is the loss of confidence you experience as a person with the disease.

This week, chatting with a friend, has really made me really think about the insidious nature of lost confidence as a symptom.

When I was diagnosed at the age of 27, I was working as a journalist; knocking on doors, covering court cases, writing to daily deadlines, getting chased up streets - all the kind of stuff you may imagine. And some you might not.

Fifteen years later, as my cognitive symptoms have increased so has my confidence been gradually eroded.

Struggling with names, places, words, connections and directions are now part of my daily life. I no longer think quickly - or often coherently. I find writing far easier than speech.

These processing issues are, I'm sure, are horribly familiar to others with MS - as is the subsequent questioning of your own capabilities.

Most of the time, I can't work out which way to turn the front door key and stand stranded on the doorstep, simply marvelling at the competence of my former self.

Cognitive difficulties do create a silent panic. What am I saying? Why can't I think clearly? What impression am I giving?

There are some good and sensible tips on how to deal with memory and thinking problems.

But to some extent I feel these rely on having the confidence to ask for help in the first place. When you're already plagued by a confidence deficit, that's not very easy to do.

I'm struggling at the moment to see how I could realistically ask for more time to respond in a work meeting without:
a) appearing foolish or ill-prepared, or
b) having to explain how MS affects me to a sea of blank faces that I may not have met before, who don't really understand and who just want to whip through the agenda because they're on a hectic timescale of fifteen other meetings.

Don't have the confidence to ask for help - so you don't get the help you need for confidence.

It's a depressing Catch-22.

I'm not sure I've found the answer. The only thing I can think of to do is return to the mindset of my reporting days where I conjured up some sort of uber-confident version of myself who could drive off somewhere unfamiliar with an A-Z held up against the steering wheel, knock on unknown doors and ask a series of difficult questions.

It was never the real me. It was a carefully constructed work version I used to strong-arm myself into facing challenging situations.
I really did have to fake it to make it.

I don't know if this is the healthiest way to do it, but it might be the shorthand way to confidence. And - as a former reporter - I'm all for the shorthand.

:: Losing my mind by Liza Minelli