Dear...Dear...Dear!

Dear Cerebellar Ataxia,

I'm writing this letter to you with a mixture of anger, confusion, and a burning desire to question your very existence. You have wreaked havoc on my life, robbing me of my abilities and subjecting me to an unforgiving and relentless struggle. Why, out of all the people in the world, was I chosen to bear the hardship and pain of such a nasty and merciless disease?

You entered my life like an uninvited guest, slowly but surely tearing away the things I once took for granted. I used to dance with grace and precision, my body moving effortlessly to the rhythm of life. Now, my every step is a gamble, a fragile attempt to maintain some semblance of balance. I stumble and falter, constantly fighting against the unpredictable nature of my own body.

Do you find joy in watching me struggle? Does it amuse you to witness the frustration and tears that accompany each failed attempt to perform even the simplest of tasks? It seems as though you revel in my suffering, relishing in the challenges you present me with every single day.

I find myself questioning your motive, Cerebellar Ataxia. What purpose do you serve? What twisted design could have possibly spawned such a debilitating condition? Is there a lesson to be learned from this incessant battle against my own body? Or are you simply a cruel twist of fate, a random roll of the genetic dice that landed on me?

I have spent countless hours in doctor's offices, enduring tests, scans, and examinations, all in an attempt to understand you, to grasp your motives. Yet, you remain an enigma, a puzzle I cannot solve. No amount of medical knowledge or scientific research seems to offer any solace or reprieve from your grasp.

But amidst my anger and confusion, I find a flicker of strength within me. I refuse to let you define me, Cerebellar Ataxia. I will not allow your presence to overshadow the essence of who I am. I am more than a mere vessel for your torment. I am a fighter, a warrior in the face of adversity.

Though you may rob me of my physical abilities, you cannot steal my spirit. I will adapt, find new ways to navigate this world that you have so callously disrupted. I will seek out support, lean on my loved ones, and connect with others who share this burden. Together, we will defy your intentions and forge a path of resilience and empowerment.

So, Cerebellar Ataxia, know this: you may have invaded my life with your merciless grip, but you will not break me. I will confront you with unwavering determination, even in the face of uncertainty. And through it all, I will continue to question, to seek answers, and to fight for a future where your influence is diminished.

CJ