Rowing toward the future, but directed by the past

I received a copy of “The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows” for Christmas two years ago. It provides names for emotions that need defining, and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed leafing through it. I’m not particularly sorrowful, and I don’t really find the majority of the text to be sorrowful, either. I don’t know how I’d describe it. I just know I like the author’s way of giving a voice to some complex feelings.

Having multiple sclerosis (MS) comes with its share of complex feelings, so it’s no wonder I see them so often in the pages of this book. I’ve already referenced one of the definitions in a column and will doubtless do it again.

Actually, I suppose it’d be more accurate to say that I assume I will. There’s so much in the book that could be easily applied to a life with MS. I can’t see myself not referencing it again, but I can’t see the future — because, according to the word that inspired me today, I’m facing the other way.

avenoir — n. “The desire that memory could flow backward.

“We take it for granted that life moves forward. But you move as a rower moves, facing backwards: you can see where you’ve been, but not where you’re going. And your boat is steered by a younger version of you. It’s hard not to wonder what life would be like facing the other way.”

— John Koenig, “The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows”

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Working with my past

I try not to spend a lot of time dwelling on the past. I can’t change it, can’t go back to give myself advice or warnings about the future. I do dwell on it sometimes because I sure could’ve planned better if I’d been able to see what was coming.

One problem is that I’d have to go back and try to give warnings nearly every day. Multiple sclerosis doesn’t just blindside us when we experience the first symptoms or when we’re presented with the diagnosis. Instead, we’re constantly bombarded as MS touches every aspect of our lives.

The other problem is that the guy shaping my future — steering the boat — is I, and that guy can’t hear my hindsight-based wisdom. It’s not that he thinks he knows better or is ignoring me; he just can’t hear it. He’s not just a reckless teenage version of me, either. Sometimes that younger version of me who’s steering us both to our future is only an hour (or even less) younger than I am now.

It’s the unknown that makes the future scary. Multiple sclerosis adds in a measure of uncertainty above and beyond the norm, which for me makes the future extra worrisome. Maybe when I dwell on the past, it’s not so much out of a desire to change it, but more because it’s already been experienced and is emptied of fear.

I sometimes think I’d like to face the other way on my journey, but I don’t know if seeing what was ahead would be more frightening than not knowing. I expect it would be — especially with MS.

Not rowing isn’t an option either, as much as I might enjoy just staying in one place for a while.

I’ll just keep going, rowing as best I can and calling out to other boats. The person steering mine can’t hear me, but maybe the people steering theirs can.

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.