Arthritis Isn't Just Physical

Coping with anxiety, depression, and burnout with arthritis has been a journey. A messy, emotional, character-developing journey, the kind no one warns you about when you get your diagnosis papers at 11 years old.

At first, I wanted to keep it all separate. My joints hurt. Okay, whatever. Take a pill—power through. I was tired. Sure, but who wasn’t tired in middle school? Mentally, I told myself, “You’re fine. Fine. Finer than fine!”

Spoiler alert: I was not fine. It wasn’t until junior high that the cracks started to show. The exhaustion wasn’t just in my knees or hips anymore; it had settled right into my chest and my spirit.

One night, I was sitting on my bed, trying to do a math worksheet, and I froze. My brain felt like it was swimming in molasses. My hands hurt too much to grip the pencil, and that’s when it hit me: I wasn’t just sore. I wasn’t just tired. I was grieving. I was grieving the way my life used to be.

Grieving the version of me that didn’t have to think about pain before making plans. Grieving the easy, carefree future I thought I was promised. It wasn’t just physical anymore; arthritis had moved into my heart and my head, too, and it brought anxiety, depression, and burnout with it like unwanted roommates.

Anxiety showed up first, knocking at the door like, “Hey bestie, what if everything goes wrong?” Every doctor’s appointment, every flare-up, every school event became a mental obstacle course. What if I couldn’t keep up? What if people stared? What if my body failed me right when I needed it most?

Then came depression, sneaking in during the quiet moments. It wasn’t dramatic, no movie scenes of crying in the rain; it was a slow, heavy fog that made everything feel harder. Even brushing my hair or texting a friend back felt too much some days. It whispered things like, “Why even try? You’re already so far behind,” and burnout? Oh, burnout didn’t just knock. Burnout kicked the door down.

I kept trying to be “normal,” pushing and pushing, saying yes to everything because I didn’t want arthritis to win, but pretending I was invincible only made me crash harder later,  physically, emotionally, and mentally.

It took me a while, okay, years to realize that coping wasn’t about pretending everything was okay. It wasn’t about being positive all the time. It was about permitting myself to rest. It was about creating a life where my body and heart could breathe. It was about celebrating tiny victories, like getting through a tough day, and giving myself grace on the days I couldn’t.

Arthritis taught me that healing isn’t just about the body. It’s about the soul too and while it’s messy and complicated and sometimes really freaking hard, it’s also full of moments where you realize you’re stronger, wiser, and way, way more sparkly than you ever knew.