This past week, when I was diagnosed with lupus, it wasn’t just a shock—it was the final piece of a puzzle I’ve been trying to solve my entire life. As a child, I was constantly in and out of doctor’s offices, never fully understanding what was happening to my body. I was always the “unusual case,” the one that no one could quite figure out. Every test and appointment felt like a dead end, and I grew increasingly frustrated with the lack of answers. I felt so alone in this journey, trapped in a body that no one could explain. At times, I was told it was "just growing pains" or "maybe an overactive immune response," but nothing felt right. I began to question myself—was it all in my head?

I can still remember how isolated and hopeless I felt back then. I spent countless hours in the nurse’s office in high school, struggling with flare-ups of rashes and hives that made it impossible to focus in class. I looked healthy—after all, I was an athlete, competing at a high level in travel soccer. So why did I feel so sick?

No one understood why I was always exhausted or prone to infections. For a while, I felt like I was getting better. I took control of my nutrition, tried various diets, and worked hard to avoid relying on medication. I was determined to transform my lifestyle. At one point, I even considered competing in a bodybuilding show in 2022. 

But then, the pain became constant. My joints ached, especially in my hands and feet, and I began losing color in my toes. After stepping out of the shower, I would break down in tears from the sheer pain of the cold tile on my feet. Even now, simple things like holding a paintbrush or going for a morning walk can be a challenge. I sleep with a heating pad every night, even in weather that’s in the mid-sixties—this is just how my life is now.

The hardest part was not being able to explain the weight I felt in my body to anyone because I didn’t understand it myself. The pain became so unbearable that I stopped going to nail salons for manicures and pedicures—something that should’ve been a relaxing experience—because I didn’t want to explain that it hurt just to get something so simple done. I felt embarrassed, and still do sometimes, about how my hands and feet looked. It felt like an extra layer of judgment that I didn’t want to face.

The Winters Were Always the Hardest

As time went on, winter became especially hard to bear. While everyone else seemed to enjoy the cold, I felt like the chill seeped deep into my bones. No matter how many layers I wore or how warm the room was, I was always cold. Winter made everything worse—my joints ached more, my hands swelled, and I never felt like I could get warm. I envied how others could enjoy the cold nights by the fire, while I was wrapped in layers, feeling the cold in places I couldn’t even explain. It’s frustrating, feeling so different. 

At times, it felt like isolation at its peak. I wasn’t just cold—I was different in a way that I couldn’t easily share with anyone. I remember praying to God in the middle of the night, crying out, asking why I couldn’t be "normal"—whatever that was supposed to mean.

The Pain and the Struggle

Now, with lupus, I’ve come to accept some of the struggles, though that doesn’t make them any easier. The pain is constant, and even simple tasks like cutting with scissors or opening a box can make me feel like I’m 90 years old. Painting has become one of the few things I can still do—digitally, that is. Using a physical paintbrush has become too difficult, as my hands shake from the cold, and I can no longer feel the strokes the way I used to. But with digital painting, I can erase my mistakes, hide my shaking hands, and forget for a moment that I’m in pain. It feels like a little piece of normalcy, and for that, I’m grateful.

There are days when I want to give up, when the weight of it all feels too much to bear. But then, I remind myself: I am not defined by my diagnosis. My identity is not in lupus or my body’s limitations. My identity is in Christ. He is walking through this journey with me, and His strength is what carries me through.

Hope in the Midst of Pain

The pain is real, and the frustration is overwhelming at times. But in those moments, I hold on to the promise from Romans 8:18: “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.” Even in the darkest moments, I know that this pain won’t last forever. There’s something greater awaiting me, something far more beautiful than what I’m going through now. 

The hardest part of living with lupus isn’t just the physical pain—it’s the emotional toll. It’s coming to terms with the fact that I wasn’t made to be “normal”—and honestly, normal is overrated. I’ve learned to be honest about my struggles, but I’ve also learned that it’s okay to not be okay. And in those moments of weakness, God meets me with His grace. 2 Corinthians 12:9 says, “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”

In my weakest moments, His strength is revealed in the most powerful ways. While I may feel alone at times, I know I am never truly alone. He is always with me.

A Journey of Transparency and Trust

Being open about my lupus journey isn’t easy. I’m still learning how to balance strength with vulnerability. It’s still hard to accept that I finally have answers to a condition that had felt so mysterious for so long. Some days the pain is so bad that it’s hard to function, but I’ve come to realize that this struggle doesn’t make me weak—it shows me just how much I need God’s grace to get through each day.

If you’re going through your own struggle, whether it’s lupus, another condition, or just the challenges life throws at you, please know you are not alone. You are not defined by your diagnosis or your pain. You are a child of God, and His grace is sufficient for you too. It may not always be easy to see, but He is with you in your hardest moments, providing strength when you feel weak.

Trusting in God’s Plan

Each day, I take it one step at a time, leaning on God’s strength when I feel like I can’t go any further. Every morning, when I look in the mirror, I hear a quiet whisper: “Let’s just get through today, okay?” I may not know what tomorrow holds, but I know that He holds me. I don’t always understand the purpose behind my pain, but I trust that He has a plan. This journey with lupus is just one chapter in my story, and I refuse to let it define my future.

So, even when my hands ache and my feet feel like they’re on fire, I’ll keep moving forward. I’ll keep painting, even if it’s just a little at a time. I’ll keep trusting in His plan, knowing that He has a purpose for me—pain and all.

If you’re struggling today, hold on to hope. Your pain is real, but so is the grace of God that sustains you. You are not alone, and with His strength, we can face tomorrow.

We’ve got this because God’s got this.