She starts the piece the way a lot of people with MS start the day. "Sorry."
Not sorry for something huge. Sorry for everything. For walking slower than the group. For driving slower than the car behind her. For repeating a story she told the day before. For wearing baggy clothes so she doesn't have to fight buttons on a bad-mobility day. The piece, originally published on My Oddsock, is a raw, plain-spoken letter from a woman who has lived with multiple sclerosis for 25 years and is tired of saying sorry for it.
Quick take
- The author has lived with multiple sclerosis for 25 years.
- She apologizes for moving, thinking, and speaking more slowly than the people around her.
- She blames herself for plans that change because of her health.
- She still struggles with self-image, even when friends and family fully accept her limits.
- She frames the essay itself as a steam vent — cheaper than therapy.
The shape of a constant "sorry"
Multiple sclerosis is sneaky. It doesn't always put someone in a wheelchair. Often it just slows things down. Slower steps. Slower driving. Slower thoughts, sometimes, when the brain fog rolls in. When a group has places to be, the slowest member becomes the gravity well.
Her description lands because most people have a version of it, even without MS. The friend who always makes the café run late. The parent who can't keep up on the family hike. The coworker who needs the meeting repeated. The apology reflex kicks in long before anyone asks for one.
She points out another layer: the clothes. Buttons, snaps, zippers become little negotiation tools when fine motor control dips. So her wardrobe quietly shifts to pullovers, wrap styles, anything that avoids a fight with a closure on a bad day.
What she actually wants
She doesn't want pity. Her husband, her father, her close circle already get it. The frustration is internal. She feels the loss — of being the helper, the attendee, the person who shows up with energy to spare. Living with MS for 25 years hasn't dulled that disappointment. It has sharpened it.
She adds a sharp joke near the end about the world's smallest violin playing just for her. That joke does a lot of work. It tells readers she knows how the "woe is me" framing can read. It also gives her permission to vent without pretending she's cured.
Who should care
| Reader | Why this essay matters |
|---|---|
| Friends of someone with MS | Shows what goes unspoken — the apology reflex masks real frustration |
| Family members | Explains why "it's fine, we understand" isn't always the comfort it seems |
| People with chronic conditions | Validates a habit most never examine — or stop |
| Strangers scrolling past | Challenges the inspiration-porn framing; it's not a success story, it's a vent |
What the "sorry" habit actually costs
There's a trade-off worth naming. The apology is social lubrication — it keeps the peace, signals self-awareness, and prevents friction. But it also transfers emotional labor onto the person with the condition. She's managing other people's discomfort before they've even felt it.
The people around her may not need the apology at all. But she needs to give it, because the alternative — accepting that she's the one slowing things down — feels like failure. That's the loop: MS causes the delay, she apologizes for the delay, and somewhere in there she absorbs guilt that belongs to nobody.
What it means for you
Say you have a friend or family member with a chronic condition and you've noticed they say "sorry" a lot. Don't just accept it. Try one specific thing: name it gently. "You don't need to apologize for that." Then move on. The next time they catch themselves starting the sentence, they might pause.
For the person feeling the apology reflex right now: the fix isn't fewer apologies. It's reminding yourself which ones are about manners and which ones are about shame. They're not the same.
Bottom line
A chronic illness slows you down. Apologizing for it doesn't speed anything up. Twenty-five years in, she already knows that. The rest of us are catching up.
Key takeaways
- People with progressive conditions often apologize for things no one asked them to apologize for.
- The "sorry" habit usually reflects internal frustration, not the reactions of others.
- Calling it out gently — once — is more useful than letting the pattern run forever.
Frequently asked questions
Where was this essay originally published?
It was posted on My Oddsock, a blog by Nancy, the writer.
How long has the author had multiple sclerosis?
She states she has lived with MS for 25 years.
Why does she apologize for her clothes?
Buttons, snaps, and zippers are harder to manage on bad-mobility days, so she leans on baggier, easier-to-wear items.
Is this a medical account of MS?
No. It's a personal essay about the social and emotional side of living with the disease, not a clinical overview.
What does she mean by calling the essay "cheaper than therapy"?
She frames the piece as a way to vent — releasing built-up frustration rather than keeping it bottled up.