By Chelsea

Through a Lupus Lens
What Survival Looks Like

When I wrote my first article for The Butterfly Effect, I was filled with excitement and hope for
this new journey of sharing my experiences with the lupus community. In my Lupus Awareness
Month article, I wrote about the power of visibility and advocacy. But behind that article was a
story I hadn’t fully told yet.
The truth is that the months leading up to it were some of the most difficult I have experienced in
recent years. Quite honestly, survival became my priority.
Shortly after the new year began, one of my close friends passed away. At the end of January, I
also lost my biological father. Grief has a way of affecting every part of life, and when you are
already living with a chronic illness like lupus, that emotional weight can feel even heavier.
Stress and heartbreak do not only affect the mind—they often show up in the body as well.
At the same time, I was navigating my official move to Chicago and rebuilding my medical care
from the ground up. Establishing new doctors, transferring medical records, managing
medications, and explaining years of medical history to unfamiliar providers was exhausting.
Anyone living with chronic illness understands how overwhelming this process can be,
especially while dealing with lupus flares and ongoing symptoms.
There were many days when my energy was consumed by appointments, phone calls, fatigue,
and simply trying to stay physically and emotionally afloat. During seasons like these, even the
things we care deeply about—including passions, goals, and creative projects—can quietly fall to
the background.
I know I am not alone in this experience. Many people living with lupus have faced seasons
where managing symptoms, attending appointments, navigating loss, or simply getting through
the day required every ounce of energy they had. While our circumstances may differ, there is a
shared understanding of what it feels like when survival leaves little room for anything else.
For a while, I felt guilty about stepping away from writing longer than I intended. I wanted to
continue advocating and connecting with this community. But this experience reminded me of
something important: resting, grieving, and taking care of ourselves is not failure.
Sometimes strength does not look like visibility or progress. Sometimes it looks like making it
through a difficult day, attending another appointment, or simply doing what is necessary to keep
going.
If you are walking through something heavy right now, I hope you give yourself permission to
recognize how much you are carrying. Healing is not linear, and surviving difficult seasons is
still an achievement, even when it does not feel like one.
Although this year has tested me in ways I never expected, it has also deepened my
understanding of why this community matters so much. Being able to share our experiences
honestly reminds us that we are not alone in the grief, exhaustion, or uncertainty that often come
with chronic illness.
Thank you for welcoming me back into this space and allowing me to continue sharing my
journey with you. If there is one thing I hope stays with you, it is this: your worth is not
measured by productivity, and needing time to survive does not make you weak.
Sometimes survival becomes the priority—and even in those seasons, you are still moving