Every story
matters.

My whole life changed in 2007. Without warning, this disease invaded my body, my life, and the lives of my family. I had never felt so scared. Hearing that I had an incurable disease left me numb - my only response was tears and the overwhelming feeling that this was some kind of punishment. Back then, not many doctors fully understood Lupus or how to treat it. I was placed in their hands, uncertain and unprepared for how aggressively this disease would take over my body. There were days I couldn’t get out of bed. Even breathing was painful. Some days were better—but none were easy.

After years of doctor visits and hospital admissions, I was finally diagnosed in 2009 with Systemic Lupus Erythematosus (SLE). I remember the moment vividly - terrified and completely alone, not knowing what was happening inside my body or how severe it would become.

In 2011, I started working in Kimberley—my first permanent job. I was excited. I made friends, built a life, and for two years I experienced no symptoms. Because I felt “normal,” I stopped taking my medication. Deep down, I hadn’t truly accepted that I was living with an incurable disease. I didn’t tell my friends. I was afraid of being judged. I fell in love. I got engaged. Life felt full again.

Towards the end of 2013, my health declined rapidly. I became ill, swollen, and constantly exhausted. Despite seeing multiple doctors and specialists, nothing seemed to help. Eventually, overwhelmed by stress and illness, I quit my job. Things only got worse. One morning, I woke up in unbearable pain. I couldn’t move or lift my head. I prayed, cried, and eventually fell into a deep sleep. What I experienced next felt like an out-of-body moment. I saw myself lying in bed, lifeless. Then, I felt what seemed like wings wrapping around me - warm, safe, and free of pain.

For a moment, I felt peace. But I woke up. That moment changed everything. I made the decision to return to my parents’ home in Bethlehem—knowing I was leaving behind the life I had built and the man I loved.

Returning home brought both relief and heartbreak. My parents were concerned but grateful to have me back. Physically, I was weak. Emotionally, I was breaking. My relationship didn’t survive the distance. The breakup was painful and left me feeling like I had lost everything. I fell into a deep depression. I felt like a burden. I felt unworthy of love. I isolated myself from the world. Depression consumed me - my self-worth, my dreams, my identity. At my lowest point, I attempted to end my life. I simply wanted the pain to stop.

Recovery - both physical and emotional - didn’t happen overnight. Medication slowly improved my physical health, but mentally, I was still struggling. I hid my pain from my family, trying to protect them. But hiding doesn’t heal. I felt alone - until I met another Lupus warrior (Noni). She changed everything. For the first time, I felt understood. She showed me that I wasn’t alone and that life with Lupus is still life worth living. She taught me that speaking about your pain doesn’t make you weak - it makes you stronger.

I’ve been living with Lupus for 17 years. Every day begins with pain. Sometimes it’s mild, sometimes overwhelming. My first thought each morning is often: How will I get through today? For years, I pushed myself beyond my limits, refusing to appear “weak.” I compared myself to others - people my age building families and achieving goals. It made me feel like I was falling behind. Eventually, my body and mind forced me to stop. Few years back, I experienced an anxiety attack that became my breaking point. I entered another period of depression.

That’s when I made one of the most important decisions of my life: I asked for help. Speaking to a psychologist helped me start healing—not just physically, but emotionally too.

I am still learning. I am still healing. The walls I built aren’t completely gone - but I’m working on it. Some days are harder than others. Pain is still part of my life. But so is hope. I’ve learned to take life one day at a time.

I am sharing my story for one reason: To remind someone out there - you are not alone. I know the pain. I understand the fear, the loneliness, the weight of it all. And if I can be that one person who helps someone else feel seen, heard, and supported—then my story has purpose