Hello, dear readers!
I wanted to take a moment to check in with everyone who has visited my arthritis blog. Whether you’re new to the site or have been following along for some time, I truly hope that you’ve found moments of inspiration, encouragement, or even just small glimmers of hope as you’ve explored my personal journey. Living with rheumatoid arthritis for more than three decades has shaped so much of who I am today, and sharing my story with all of you has been deeply meaningful.
As I reflect on my experiences, I can’t help but recognize that we are all at different stages of our arthritis journeys. Some of you may have just received a diagnosis, while others might be well into managing this condition after many years. No matter where you find yourself, the path is never linear. There are twists and turns, days of hope, and, of course, days when it feels like we’ve hit a wall. My hope is that, through this blog, we can create a space where we can connect, share our experiences—both the emotional highs and the inevitable lows—and lift one another up when things get tough.
One of the greatest challenges of living with arthritis, particularly rheumatoid arthritis, is how isolating it can sometimes feel. When I was first diagnosed, I struggled to come to terms with what it meant for my future. The unpredictability of flare-ups, the physical limitations that started to set in, and the overwhelming fatigue were hard to explain to those who hadn’t lived it. It felt, at times, like I was living in a world where my body was betraying me, and no one around me could fully understand what I was going through.
That’s why creating this community is so important to me. It’s not just about sharing my own journey, but about hearing from all of you—the triumphs, the setbacks, the daily challenges that only those living with arthritis truly understand. My hope is that this blog can be a safe space for all of us, a place where we can be real about what we’re facing, and where we can offer one another the emotional support that is so essential when navigating life with a chronic illness.
I want to acknowledge the emotional toll arthritis can take, beyond the physical pain and discomfort. There are days when I struggle, both physically and emotionally. Some days, getting out of bed feels like an insurmountable task. Other days, I’ll find myself beating myself up for not being able to accomplish something as simple as folding laundry or making dinner. It’s easy to fall into a spiral of self-doubt and frustration, especially when the world around us often expects us to keep up as though we aren’t battling an invisible illness. There are moments when I’ve felt like I’m failing—not because I’m not trying, but because my body simply won’t cooperate.
Those feelings can be overwhelming, and I know I’m not alone in experiencing them. If you’ve ever felt like arthritis is holding you back, like you aren’t doing enough, or like the disease is defining your worth, please know that you are not alone. I have felt that way, too, and I want to remind you (and myself) that we are not defined by our limitations. We are not less because we move more slowly or need to rest more often.
This community is about embracing the reality of what we’re facing while also reminding ourselves that we are so much more than our arthritis. Yes, there will be hard days, but there will also be days of strength and resilience—days when we surprise ourselves with what we are capable of despite the challenges we face.
One of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned over the years is the importance of pacing myself and listening to my body. I used to push through the pain, telling myself that I had to keep going, that I couldn’t afford to slow down. But that approach only led to more pain, more fatigue, and a deeper sense of frustration. It took time, but I eventually learned that there is no shame in resting when my body demands it. Learning to honor our bodies, even when they don’t work the way we want them to, is a vital part of managing life with arthritis.
For anyone reading this who might be in the earlier stages of their arthritis journey, I want to offer a piece of advice that I wish I had embraced sooner: be kind to yourself. Living with arthritis is hard work, and it requires a level of self-compassion that can sometimes be difficult to muster, especially when you’re feeling frustrated with your limitations. But self-compassion is not a weakness; it’s a strength. It allows us to recognize that we are doing our best, even on the days when our best doesn’t look like what we had hoped.
Of course, living with arthritis is not just about the physical challenges. The emotional highs and lows are just as real, and it’s okay to acknowledge that. There will be days when the weight of it all feels unbearable, when the pain or the fatigue or the frustration becomes too much to handle. On those days, it’s so important to reach out—to your loved ones, to your healthcare team, or to this community. You don’t have to face this alone. One of the greatest gifts we can give each other is the reminder that we are in this together.
As this blog grows, I hope it becomes a space where we can share practical tips, from exercise and diet to pain management and stress relief, but also where we can talk about the emotional impact of arthritis—the moments when we feel vulnerable, the times when we feel strong, and everything in between. By opening up about our struggles, we give ourselves permission to be human, and we give others the opportunity to support us in ways that truly matter.
So, as I sign off today, I want to leave you with this: We can get through this, and we can be stronger because of it. With the understanding and support of those who live with this disease—or with a form of arthritis—we have the power to not only survive but thrive. Together, we can create a community of hope, resilience, and shared understanding. I’m so grateful to have each and every one of you here, and I look forward to hearing more about your stories as we continue this journey together.
With love and solidarity,
Joyce