OK

Today I went to yoga for MS.I hadn't been for a while, having missed the end of the last term by leaving for Jamaica for a couple of weeks. I love the MS class. Like the infusion suite its a room where there is absolutely no bullshit. No one lies, nobody covers anything up. I remember when I first went years ago, before I understood the rules of the room. I stayed very quiet, trying to figure out whether this was going to work out. I saw very quickly I was in a room, for the first time. with people who were dealing with the same thing I was. Years ago in London I'd turned down a chance to go to an MS meet up drunkenly saying, "I don't want to spend the evening around a load of raspberry ripples!" {Cripples if you are not up on your British slang}. I actually spent that evening getting drunk in Belsize Park and chatting with my chiropractor. And i saw, no irony at all.
The yoga class has been amazing, it took the churlish child who tried to insult his way out of the awful and turned me into a much nicer accepting sort. I still miss classes, I'm seen as only turning up for the pot lucks. But, if I can at all, I'm there. The class has helped me immeasurably and changed the way I approach MS. I still tank and do whatever I want every now and again, but I know the MS Yoga anchor is there when I come to my senses.
The infusion suite is another true room. You do not walk/limp in there unless you are right at the edge of apocalypse. This means the room is bullshit free, friendly and a lot of fun. Top drugs really help. So, I had my life destroyed, thats what I thought for a long time, and did nothing but fight to hold on to the normal I wanted. That was performing as much as I could. I didn't write as I saw writing as finally admitting my dreams were dead. I don't feel that way any more. I'm happy tip tapping when I can and letting people I like get on with the stage work. Would I ever do it again? I was going to write hell yeah! But I honestly don't know. And that's OK.