Symptoms You Don’t See: The Invisible Side of MS 🙈

When people hear “Multiple Sclerosis,” they often think of wheelchairs or visible mobility aids. But some of the most difficult battles I face happen where no one else can see—deep within my body and mind. These invisible symptoms are real, persistent, and often misunderstood.

Fatigue: The Monster That Wakes Up With Me

Fatigue with MS is like trying to walk through quicksand. It doesn’t matter if I’ve had a full night’s sleep—I can still wake up exhausted. I remember arriving to work at 7:30 a.m., dressed and smiling, but already feeling like I had one spoon left.

(If you’re unfamiliar with the Spoon Theory, I highly recommend watching my YouTube video about spoons and energy. It explains how we, with chronic illness, measure energy in limited “spoons” each day.)

The hardest part? I look fine. I smile. I function. But the people closest to me—my real ones—can tell. They’ll say, “Save your spoons, girl,” or “Go on and take your nap.” Somehow, they just know. Fatigue has been the biggest invisible monster I’ve had to fight… but it’s not the only one.

Brain Fog: When My Mind Feels Miles Away

Merriam-Webster defines brain fog as “a usually temporary state of diminished mental capacity marked by inability to concentrate or to think or reason clearly.” Sounds clinical enough, but let me make it real.

I’m an educator. While teaching 4th grade, I once wrote a single word on the board to kick off a lesson. I walked back to my desk, looked up… and couldn’t remember what the word meant or why I wrote it. Just blank. Of course, I played it off because I’m resourceful like that. But inside? I was shaken. Is this no longer the right career for me?

Nerve Pain: The Fire That Stops Me Cold

Some days, it feels like my wrists are on fire—although I’ve never actually been on fire. It stops me in my tracks. I can’t move them. I just have to wait it out.

Other times, it’s numbness or tingling in my arms and legs. It’s like they’ve fallen asleep, but worse—because I need those limbs to type, write, stand, walk. And those sensations? They don’t wait for a convenient time to show up.

Depression: The Silent Room I Sometimes Sit In

One of the most invisible symptoms of all is depression. I often say it feels like I’m in a clear box—everyone can see me, but no one can hear me.

I’ve learned to recognize the signs and take action. I take my medications, I write plays, I adult color, I worship with music, and I talk to my therapist. But still, there are moments when I scroll through old photos or watch old videos… and I miss that girl. That gets me. It really does.

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A Final Word

Invisible disabilities exist. You might not see them, but they shape everything—how I move, how I think, how I feel.

So if someone tells you they’re tired, hurting, or struggling, even if they look fine—believe them.

Acknowledge that. Respect that. Advocate for that.

Because just like me, they may be fighting battles you’ll never see.