The art of creating while navigating MS cog fog

Cognitive difficulties can paint me into a corner where nothing flows

Ahna Crum avatar

by Ahna Crum |

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Main graphic for Ahna Crum's column,

I spent most of February staring at a blank screen, the blinking cursor mocking me. Despite having a solid idea to convey and a column deadline looming, my brain was stuck in the mud of cognitive fog. I tried to force my mind to cooperate, but it was like trying to paint with a dry brush. No matter how much pressure I applied, the color wouldn’t spread.

This instance isn’t the first time I’ve wrestled with writer’s block, but it’s different now. Before my diagnosis of relapsing-remitting multiple sclerosis, writing was second nature. Words flowed effortlessly, weaving themselves into stories without much conscious effort.

But multiple sclerosis (MS) changes things. It’s not the same as a creative void, where no ideas come to mind. Instead, the cognitive difficulties — struggling to find words, mental fatigue, and brain fog — can make the process unpredictable and paint you into a corner where nothing flows. Some days the words are there, and other days, my thoughts feel just out of reach, like a painting that refuses to take shape.

Before I started my personal and academic journey in the health sciences, I was a studio art major. I used my art as a venue for advocacy, as a means to share the struggles of life with MS, and as an emotional outlet. Back then, I believed my attention to detail was an asset, but it often became a hindrance. I was paralyzed by perfectionism, obsessing over every stroke and hesitant to make a mark unless it was just right. As a result, I’d procrastinate, waiting until the last moment to complete assignments.

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Necessary revision

One professor changed everything. He had us create detailed charcoal drawings — pieces we were proud of. Then, to my horror, he instructed us to destroy them. Smudge them with more charcoal, splash them with paint, or even burn them lightly. But then came the real lesson: We had to bring them back to life. We were required to work with the imperfections, to add new layers, and to embrace the unexpected. In the end, the pieces were always richer, more dynamic, and more alive than before.

It turns out I needed to embrace imperfection to truly create.

Now, years later, I realize how much that lesson applies to writing — and to life with MS. Just as I had to abandon perfectionism in art, I’ve had to let go of my old expectations for how writing should be.

I can’t always sit down and produce a polished piece in one sitting. Instead, I break my work into pieces, returning to it over time, refining and reshaping. Some days, I write in fragments. Other days, I rely on dictation to get my thoughts out before they disappear. I’ve learned to start with a messy draft, trusting that clarity will come in the revision process.

MS forces creative adaptability. Much like creating art from chaos, life with MS demands constant adjustments. Symptoms come and go, forcing us to adapt in real time. When my legs feel weak, I adjust how I move. When fatigue takes over, I rearrange my schedule. One day, I might wake up with the energy to write for hours; the next, I may struggle to form a coherent thought. Each adaptation is a layer on the ever-evolving canvas of life with MS.

Writing with MS certainly isn’t the same as it used to be. I don’t have the luxury of waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect words, or a perfectly functioning brain. I have to write through the mess, through the fog, knowing that, like those charcoal drawings, my work can always be reshaped. I can add layers, rework the structure, and bring it back to life in a way that’s even more meaningful than before.

So I’ll hold on to February’s column for now and keep painting with my dry brush, adding water when I can, layering colors, and trusting that something beautiful will emerge in the end.


Note: Multiple Sclerosis News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Multiple Sclerosis News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to multiple sclerosis.

Kathy Allen avatar

Kathy Allen

Thank you for writing this article. It may take you longer to write but 'how' you write & what you write is so real & for those of us with MS, there is a special understanding that you have, thoughts on reshaping our lives & you gave hope! I will keep your article! Again, thank you, Kathy

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Tom A avatar

Tom A

Hello Ms Crum- I was responding to someone online yesterday and out came the words "being perfect" may no longer be possible, you may have to go for "the next best thing". I thank my mom who found it hard to give approval on anything, as well intended as she was. In the space of "next best thing" a lot of creativity can be applied. I like your analogy with the art work, seems to fit quite well. Perfect is only an opinion, usually, anyway.

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Wim B avatar

Wim B

I know exactly how you feel. Since 5 years ( I have already MS diagnose since 2006) hardly possible to write more than three lines, read more than 1 page. My Belgium Neurologist gave me a prescription of a very common medication, which in principle can be used daily. I read a book over 500 pages within 3 weeks.

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David Aldred avatar

David Aldred

Apart from the reference to 'God', I found Ahna Crum's description of her relationship with art to be spot on. I used to be a storyboard artist and a designer, and I prided myself on my intricate line work and my ability to get jobs done fast – sometimes overnight – and always on time. Then Relapsing Remitting MS visited me, and quite quickly I realised I had to stop what I was doing (and enjoying), so I quit storyboarding and moved out of London, and now I'm trying to be a writer – but even though the deadlines are far, far more relaxed, I still have to fight the fatigue and the bad days. I miss my old life though, but I must adapt.

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