First off, if you’re here looking for answers to the age-old existential crisis of “Why me?” after being diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, I’m sorry to say—you’re on your own for that one. This page isn’t here to dive into the cosmic mysteries of life or provide deep philosophical answers. I’ve asked those questions myself, and trust me, no one is listening or has the answers to that riddle.

Let me introduce myself: I’m a Marine Corps veteran. Long before MS entered the picture, I was dealing with Degenerative Disc Disease from my time in the military. Chronic pain and I have been on a first-name basis for years. Then, at 45, I developed a hand tremor. A brain MRI followed, and that’s when the infamous Dawson’s fingers were discovered. Next came a spinal MRI, which revealed a large inactive lesion (I'm waiting for that little gem to show its true colors). After that, a lumbar puncture confirmed what I already suspected: MS.

Like many of us, I went through the battery of tests to rule out every other possibility first. During that process, I educated myself on MS and its never-ending laundry list of symptoms. I found myself saying, “Oh, I have that, and that too,” more often than I’d like to admit. One piece of advice that really stuck with me was the importance of tracking symptoms and triggers. But every journal I came across had some fatal flaw—either it wasn’t user-friendly, too short, or just plain annoying to use and I'm just picky or according to a few people "anal retentive".

It’s spiral-bound—because who wants to hold a book open while writing? Especially if you have a hand tremor that would sooner throw a cup of coffee across the room than be complaint.  It spans more than a couple of months—because nobody wants to buy a new journal every few weeks. We're all broke, lets not compound our problems.

And yes, these journals are handmade by me. Why? Because when I looked into having them professionally printed, the costs were absurd for quantities under 500. A small run would mean selling them at $80 just to break even, and no one’s paying that much for a crass journal. So, I put my graphic design and web development background to work and created exactly what I wanted—because I’m picky, and none of the options out there cut it. If this little project takes off, then I’ll look into bulk printing. But for now, you’re getting something personally crafted with care.

Let me be clear: this journal isn’t about trying to get rich off of sick people, and I’m definitely not here for attention or fame. You won’t see my face plastered anywhere, because that’s not what this is about. In fact, here’s a picture of Zoey, my dog, who’s probably more photogenic than me anyway. This journal is my way of giving people like us a tool that actually works, without all the fluff and nonsense. Plus, it’s packed with the kind of dark humor we need to get through the day—because if we can’t laugh at the absurdity of it all, we’ll just end up on more antidepressants.