It was a battle I never wanted to face. Lupus had been my enemy for four years now and for four years I had been determined to beat it. It had taken a physical, emotional and mental toll on my life. Trying to cope with lupus was like dancing with the devil.
The pain was unbearable. Every muscle in my body ached, my head was so heavy I could barely lift it off my pillow and my stomach was constantly in knots. I was constantly exhausted no matter how much sleep I got. Each day I had to face the fact that any little thing could trigger a flare-up.
The journey that I was on was long and difficult. I had seen countless doctors who told me different things, with no real hope of recovery. I had to learn to manage my symptoms and find balance in my day-to-day life, yet I was ever aware that this could all change in an instant.
Finally, I reached the point of despair. No more treatments, no more doctors, no more hope for a cure. I felt all alone, engulfed in a deep and inescapable darkness. I knew that lupus had won and I was not strong enough to fight anymore.
Lupus had taken so much from me. My hopes, my dreams, my life. I had been determined to beat it, but in the end, lupus had won.