How Emirati Mariam Al Qubaisi refused to be defined by Multiple Sclerosis (MS) or let the 'invisible' disease break her

Dubai: “MS made me stronger. It showed me life from a different lens.” Mariam Al Qubaisi, seated in a wheelchair, says this quietly, without drama, as if it’s simply a fact she has learned along the way. But her journey to this moment has been anything but simple.

An Emirati woman living with multiple sclerosis, Mariam spent years searching for answers before she was finally diagnosed. It all began when she was seventeen, just finishing school, a time that should have been full of promise.

“I felt something weird. I was imbalanced. I had brain fog, especially near exams,” she recalls.

“It took years and years to get the diagnosis. When I finally knew it was MS, of course I was scared.”

Multiple sclerosis is a chronic neurological condition in which the immune system attacks the brain and spinal cord. Its symptoms are often invisible — pain, fatigue, imbalance and brain fog — making it difficult for others to understand what patients are going through.

“I felt lonely. There was no one around me who had MS at that time,” Mariam says.

Today, that sense of isolation has been replaced by purpose. Mariam now represents the UAE at the United Nations Committee on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities in New York, speaking about disability inclusion and the lived experience of people with MS.

“I felt like I was carrying all the voices of people living with MS,” she says. “It felt like a huge milestone. Like I graduated in life.”

Her personal journey has unfolded alongside the rapid growth of the National Multiple Sclerosis Society in the UAE. In just three years, the society has moved from offering basic support to delivering a full programme for patients and families — including a dedicated MS helpline, mental health resources and funding for critical research that is shaping the future of MS care in the country.

“When I was diagnosed, there was no MS Society,” Mariam says. “I only had my sister. Now people have a community and resources. They don’t have to feel lost.”

Finding others who shared her condition changed how she understood herself.

“When I meet people with MS, we connect on a deeper level,” she explains. “They talk my language. If I say my feet are burning, they understand. Other people can’t see it. That’s why MS is called invisible.”

The emotional toll, she admits, was overwhelming in the early years.

“I was really depressed. I didn’t know how to deal with it. I felt lost. I felt like no one could understand me,” she says.

For a long time, she isolated herself. Then she began slowly changing her routine.

“I started waking up early and going out in my wheelchair. I went for walks. I went to art classes,” she says. “I also started writing what I was feeling and what I was grateful for.”

She kept it simple.

“I would write three things I was grateful for every day,” she says. “Slowly, the feeling started to fade.”

Gradually, she began reconnecting with people again.

“Before, I was isolating myself in my room. Then I started sitting with my friends and family. I started going out again,” she says. “Everything shifted for me.”

Now an advocate for mental health and disability inclusion, Mariam believes vulnerability should not be hidden — especially for women.

“People think I have it all. That I travel and I advocate and I’m strong. But I’m human too,” she says. “You can have a bad day or a bad moment, but not a bad life.”

She is also clear that she does not want MS to define her.

“When I travel, my wheelchair wheel breaks. My suitcase breaks. My siblings forget their passports,” she laughs. “It’s the same thing. It’s not different. I fix it and move on.”

Her perspective on life has shifted completely.

“We only have one life,” she says. “We forget to live in the moment. But all you really have is now.”

Asked what she would tell others who are newly diagnosed or struggling, her answer is practical.

“It’s okay to ask for help,” she says. “Tell a friend. Tell your sister. Someone close to you. And now there is the MS Society and the MS helpline for people who don’t know where to start.”

And perhaps her most striking line comes when she reflects on what MS has done to her life.

“MS is not disabling,” she says. “It’s empowering. It forced me to know myself. It forced me to focus on what makes me feel better.”

From a frightened teenager searching for answers to an Emirati woman speaking on a global stage, Mariam Al Qubaisi’s story is no longer only about illness.

It is about finding a voice — and helping others find theirs too.