Moods--Good, Bad and Ugly

Emotional lability. Not many people know what this term means, and sometimes confuse the second word with liability. They are not far off. Sometimes emotions can be a liability. Even though an excess of emotion or a lack of control of such has been a burden in my life, I have always maintained that I would rather battle too many moods than too few. It's like seasons; I'd rather live in four seasons than have mild weather all year round, even though I dislike winter and loathe summer (just the heat). As long as I can see out of the windows of my warm house in December and my air conditioned house in July at the beauty of the world, I like all four seasons. But I digress.

Emotional lability in a person tends to make their moods swing more often for less reason. It can be a profound symptom in something like bi-polar disorder or an annoying symptom of PMS. I don't know enough about it to label it a condition on its own accord or solely a symptom of other conditions, although I do know something about the latter. I am not bi-polar, but emotional lability is a symptom of a disease I know well. Multiple Sclerosis.

I was diagnosed with MS about 12 years ago. It's as scary as they say it is to be diagnosed because the unpredictability of the course the disease will take is considerable. Over a decade in, I appear to be one of the lucky ones in many respects. I look okay. Only in the heat do I limp and them almost unnoticeably. No one sees out of my left eye but me, so they don't know things get blurry. There are a few symptoms I actually spare my friends and family from knowing about and some that come and go. Fatique is my constant companion and although my IQ is as respectable as ever, there are times that I know my memory issues are MS related rather than because of age. This past week, I have discovered that something I have been dealing with a great deal in the past year may very well be a worsening symptom of my MS. Emotional lability.

Here's a short synopsis of the way my emotions malfunction, especially when I'm tired. (I teach middle school 25 miles from my home and am an assistant coach for a high school debate team which has many Friday night and Saturday tournaments. I'm always tired.) My feelings are fragile. My students don't hurt my feelings. I am an adult. Other adults hurt my feelings. Unintentionally. My adult children hurt my feelings. Regularly. Although my kids know I misinterpret their comments and am hurt, they think I should be mature enough to realize they don't mean anything bad and that they love me profoundly. I cry when I don't mean to. I don't mind crying if I have a good reason, but it's humiliating to cry when I think someone has been mean to me. My goodness, I'm not seven years old.

As I look back over the last twelve months, I realize that things have been worse for awhile. The daughter I adore can barely say a word without me taking it in the worst possible way. One administrator at school finds reasons to send me emails at least once a year correcting me for something I'm not doing right and I react to these emails with about 6 different emotions, all of which make it worse. The thing that bothers me most is my own reaction to my over-reactions. I am not only embarrassed, but demoralized. Questions run through my mind as to why I'm not more mature, why I need approval, and most of all why I keep doing things that make other people mad at me. Now I wonder if they're any madder at me that any given person is toward any other given person. Am I paranoid or is there really someone out to get me?

My initial thought when realizing my bounty of emotional responses (when I am happy, I am very, very happy; when I am sad I am hopeless) was quite likely to be linked to my MS, was pure relief. I can accept my difficulties with mood swings much more readily if I think it's part of the disease instead of some unfixable flaw in my character. After all, if my legs were weak and I used a cane, would that bring negative judgment from others? Of course not. But moodiness and depression bring out quite different reactions from people. Most of us acknowledge the weakness and limitations of our bodies, but our minds are not supposed to be weak. We should have control over our minds. Only in the last 30 years has depression been accepted as an illness, and even then, once you're on medication, you are expected to cheer up and not talk about it.

My relief quickly turned to a probable reality. I could imagine what would happen if after a conversation left me in tears, I explained, "Sorry. I have MS." It reminds me of students at school who act out and then say, "It's not my fault. I have ADHD."

I thought about times when my daughter and I have switched roles of parent and child. This role reversal is due largely to my habit of relying on her too much when I was first diagnosed (in the midst of a divorce and my oldest son's downward spiral into life-threatening habits). It's only when I go through overly emotional bouts (which I rarely see coming or even see afterwards) that she and I return to this role reversal, usually leaving me with hurt feelings and her frustrated with my neediness.

Meanwhile, what will I do with these new realizations? I can get away with crying over things that are moving or tragic. I can avoid situations where I might take a comment too personally, but working with other teachers, parents and administrators makes that unlikely. I know getting more sleep would help since fatigue--sorry everyone who stayed up too late last night, but I'm talking about MS fatigue here--makes every symptom exponentially more severe.

One thing I know for certain. My time of denial is over. I have MS. Even though I don't think I'll ever be in a wheelchair or a nursing home because of it, it's time to admit what part it does play in my life. It's not the worst thing to ever happen to me. I am lucky that the course it's taking seems to be slow. Still, although I don't need sympathy, I may need understanding on a level I have not asked for. Maybe people will just have to cut me some slack when I seem to cry over unimportant things. Being loved unconditionally, sensitive moods and all, sounds pretty wonderful to me. For my part, I'll try to act like an adult--but even adults need a little patience once in awhile.