Hitting Pause

At 30, my life ran on momentum.

My days were full, my calendar crowded, and my value—at least in my own mind—was measured by how much I could do without stopping. Like many people in their thirties, I was building something: a career, a future, a version of myself that thrived on being busy. Rest felt optional. Slowing down felt unnecessary.

Then I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.

Multiple sclerosis (MS) is a chronic, incurable neurological condition that affects the central nervous system. It’s most commonly diagnosed between the ages of 20 and 40—right in the middle of what’s often considered the most productive and fast-paced years of adulthood. I didn’t expect chronic illness to be part of my story at this stage of life, but statistically, I’m far from alone.

Around 2.9 million people worldwide are currently living with MS. In the UK alone, over 150,000 people have the condition, with approximately 7,100 new diagnoses each year—roughly 135 people every week. MS is not rare, yet it remains widely misunderstood.

What makes MS particularly challenging is its unpredictability. Symptoms vary from person to person and can change day to day. Fatigue is one of the most common and debilitating effects, with nearly three-quarters of people with MS reporting daily fatigue. This isn’t ordinary tiredness—it’s an overwhelming exhaustion that rest doesn’t always fix.

Before my diagnosis, I pushed through the warning signs. Numbness, strange sensations, exhaustion that didn’t make sense—I explained them away. I was busy. I had things to do. I thought I could outpace whatever was happening in my body.

I couldn’t.

The diagnosis didn’t just slow me down. It forced me to stop.

Suddenly, the life I’d been running at full speed had to be reconsidered. Planning became complicated. Energy became unreliable. Cancelling plans became necessary, and explaining myself became exhausting in its own way. MS doesn’t respond to determination or good intentions. It demands attention, patience, and adaptation.

In a culture that celebrates productivity and constant motion, being forced to pause can feel like failure. I grieved the version of myself who could say yes to everything without consequence. I struggled with guilt, frustration, and the fear of falling behind while everyone else kept moving forward.

What I didn’t expect was how much clarity that pause would bring.

Living with MS has taught me to treat energy as a limited resource. I choose more carefully now—what I commit to, how I recover, when I rest. Rest is no longer a reward for productivity; it’s a requirement for survival. Strength looks different than it used to. Some days, it looks like slowing down. Some days, it looks like stopping altogether.

MS hasn’t taken away my ambition or my purpose. It’s reshaped them.

For many people diagnosed with MS in their twenties and thirties, the challenge isn’t only medical—it’s emotional and societal. We’re navigating chronic illness at a stage of life that assumes acceleration, not adaptation. The disconnect between expectation and reality can be isolating.

Awareness matters because MS is often invisible. On good days, I look fine. On bad days, functioning can be difficult. Understanding that chronic illness doesn’t always show itself outwardly is a crucial step toward empathy.

I didn’t choose to press pause at 30. But learning how to live within that pause has changed the way I see success, health, and resilience.

Life didn’t end when I slowed down.

It simply began moving at a pace that lets me breathe.