There is no cure for autoimmune disease. It kept replaying in my head on a never ending loop. I wanted someone to scratch the record. Make the continuous statement stop. How did I have something incurable? I had always been so healthy.
As bad as it was knowing this was going to be with me forever, what made it even harder was that I felt ashamed. Why shame? I hadn’t the slightest idea how I had brought this upon myself, it was something out of my control. Even though I hadn’t done anything to cause this illness, I blamed myself for getting this disease. I was embarrassed and ashamed, and I didn’t want to tell anyone I had it. My family knew, and a few very close friends, but other than that no one. I kept my diagnosis quiet to any and everyone else. I was still trying to wrap my head around what it meant to have an autoimmune disease. It was hard to even speak the words. I was still dealing with the shame of being sick. The branding of being different.
I didn’t know anyone else with an autoimmune disease. I didn’t have anyone I could talk to about what I was going through. No one understood. I would share with my husband how I was feeling. He could see the physical pain. My parents would ask how I was doing. How many times can you explain something to someone with no comprehension before you tire of your own voice? Everyone was loving and supportive, but I felt like a burden and got use to saying I was “fine” when I was anything but.
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