I’m Being Attacked By My Own Body

My femininity is fading, but I refuse to let my disease define me.

Photo by Carlos on Unsplash

I woke up this morning drenched in sweat and gasping for breath.

Panicking, I untangled myself from my sheets and scrambled to the mirror. Once I realized I still had hair, my pounding chest calmed down, and I collapsed back into bed.

It was just a nightmare, I reassured myself.

In my dream, I was on stage in front of thousands of people. Suddenly, my hair starts falling out in clumps around me. The crowd gawks as my biggest secret is exposed, and their paralyzing stares leave me unable to flee from the humiliation.

But this was more than a bad dream — in real life, this feeling was all too familiar.

I was 13 when I started to lose my hair.

Although I wasn’t in front of an audience, the experience still horrified me. I remember gathering it up from my pillow, holding back tears, and staring at it in my hand. My hair became so fragile that it would break off in the wind. I had no idea what was wrong with me, either, which made me more anxious. I longed for a diagnosis.

Now, seven years later, I finally figured out the answer. I have lupus — an autoimmune disease that causes…