It was a cold September morning in Colorado when I first starred at myself in the mirror with tears in my eyes, begging myself to be strong.
After an attempt to wipe my never-ending tears, I wobbled myself to my kitchen to make a pot of coffee. It was the weekend and all I wanted to do was lay on my couch and sleep so I couldn’t feel the pain in my joints.
They diagnosed me with systemic lupus in 2013, but I always felt like there was a lingering question mark because throughout the years, I wouldn’t test positive and I had questionable symptoms.
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