When the Enemy Is Me: Healing Self-Blame and Shame in Autoimmune Illness

When I was 24, I began experiencing strange symptoms I couldn't explain. I had just moved to Nashville, working full-time as a bartender and living what I thought was a carefree, fun-filled life. I stayed out late, partied hard, and rarely thought about my health — because I never had to.

Then one morning, I woke up with intense pain in my hands. I figured I’d slept on them wrong or overused them during a long shift. I slapped on some braces, popped some Advil, and moved on. But the pain didn’t go away. It got worse — and it spread. First to my feet, then to my joints. My hands and feet started turning white and numb. Something was clearly wrong.