A friend recently asked me a poignant question: "When your RA was at its worst, did you ever feel like a burden?" Her question brought me close to tears because it touched on a deep-seated fear that many of us with RA experience.
When I was in my early twenties and RA had its grip on me, I felt utterly helpless. Simple tasks like walking or carrying groceries became monumental challenges. I relied heavily on others, and the constant feeling of being judged and criticized for my limitations was soul-crushing. People called me lazy, accused me of using my condition as an excuse, and even got frustrated when I couldn't help lift a bag of dog food.
It was particularly difficult when my wife was pregnant. She worked full-time, battled morning sickness, and still managed to take care of most things around the house because I couldn't. I felt like a burden to her, to my friends, and to my family, even though they reassured me otherwise. The evidence seemed to scream the opposite.
This feeling of being a burden led me to isolate myself, believing I was better off alone. But solitude became my enemy. Left with my thoughts, I spiraled into despair, focusing on my pain, limitations, and the harsh judgments of others. This isolation fueled my depression, and I even wrote letters to my family apologizing for being a burden, convinced that my life was over.
Thankfully, those letters never reached their destination. Fast forward 20 years, and I'm in remission. I've found happiness and a way to escape the hell I was living in. How did I get here? By accepting that I wasn't a burden and embracing the love and support of my family and friends.
It took time, but I realized that my RA wasn't my fault. I didn't choose this condition, and I certainly didn't want it. Accepting this reality was crucial for my healing. My loved ones became my lifeline, their encouragement and care helping me to focus on something other than my pain.
If you know someone struggling with RA, or any chronic illness, please remind them that they are not a burden. Offer your support, listen without judgment, and let them know you care. Love and compassion can be incredibly powerful forces in healing.
And to anyone reading this who feels weighed down by their condition, please know that you're not alone. I've been there, and I understand. Reach out, connect with others, and remember that there is hope.