Invisible Illness and the Art of Adaptation

(and keeping it in the background)

I just got my blood drawn today. The usual fasting bloodwork.

“Do you get dizzy or queasy?” the nurse asked.

“Not from the blood draw,” I said. “But I have been known to get a little weak from not eating. I guess we’ll find out.”

A bit snarky? Maybe.

But after years of doctor appointments, labs, medications, flare-ups, food restrictions, symptom tracking, and trying to explain things I barely understand myself sometimes… humor helps.

The funny thing is, I actually try not to talk about it much.

Usually I’ll just say, “I can’t eat certain things,” and leave it at that.

I don’t like making a big deal about it. In fact, I prefer to keep it minimized and in the background as much as possible.

But somehow, once people hear words like “autoimmune,” “gluten allergy,” or “flare-up,” it suddenly becomes a whole discussion—and honestly, I hate that part.

I don’t want special treatment. I don’t expect people to memorize my triggers or rearrange life around me.

I’ll figure something out. I always do.(Does my husband have to hear me think out loud while I'm panicky trying to figure it out? uh, yep)

But I think people sometimes mistake diligence for obsession.

The truth is, when your body reacts strongly to things, you learn to pay attention.

Not out of fear.

Out of pattern recognition.

My first deep dive into fitness actually happened around the same time I found out I had Hashimoto’s thyroid disease. I was training for a half marathon because a friend of mine had cancer, and I wanted to raise money for lymphoma research.

At the same time, we moved to Texas, and I ended up working at a gym. Running, lifting, indoor cycling—I loved all of it. I pushed through a lot during those years without fully realizing my body was already fighting behind the scenes.

Then came Georgia.

At first it was my skin. I assumed it was irritation from salon chemicals because I’ve always been sensitive to things.

Then came the joint pain. My thumbs and hands started stiffening up, which becomes hard to ignore when you’re holding dryers and brushes all day as a hairstylist. Around the same time, I developed patchy rashes on my legs and ankles.(Funny story about going to a dr. for a diagnostic. I told her my symptoms and she told me to take off my shirt and bra..in front of her. She gave me a breast exam..It seemed legit. After that she mis-diagnosed me with an infection.)

Eventually came the diagnosis: psoriatic arthritis.At first it seemed manageable. A cream. Some adjustments. No big deal.Then came the food issues. The wheat allergy. The growing realization that gluten wasn’t just making me feel “off”—it was triggering inflammation in ways I couldn’t ignore anymore.

And wheat? It’s in far more than people realize.

Flour, sauces, dressings, noodles, candy—even Twizzlers, weirdly enough. Once you start paying attention, you realize how deeply certain ingredients are woven into everyday food.

And honestly, that part can be exhausting socially.

“Can’t you just have one drink?”

“One bite won’t hurt.”

“Just loosen up tonight.”

If one more person tells me to just have a salad, I will explode.

I know people mean well. I really do.

Bur You can't eat salad 24/7- at least I can't!

When you’ve learned the hard way that one meal, one stressful week, one flare-up, or even one “healthy” food can throw things completely off, you stop looking at those choices casually.

Even gluten-free foods can trigger inflammation for me sometimes. It’s all very individual, which makes it even harder to explain to people who don’t deal with this kind of thing.

And now? Menopause entered the chat and changed the rules again.

Honestly, this whole experience has been one long lesson in adaptation.

What works one year may not work the next. What helps one flare-up may aggravate another. Even workouts change depending on what season my body is in.

The goal stopped being perfection a long time ago.

Now the goal is learning how to recalibrate without giving up on myself.

Movement helps. Rest helps. Simpler foods help. Sleep helps. Stress management helps. Paying attention helps.

Not perfectly.

Just consistently enough to find my way back to baseline when things start drifting again. To add to this, now— with menopause added in, I am actually recalibrating again. Once I get my results back(I added a hormone panel too) I will talk to my current Dr. ,whom I love, but also a functional practitioner to make sure I am looking at this from more than one vantage point. I will keep you updated on this part.

And maybe that’s the real art of living with something invisible.

Learning how to carry it without letting it become your entire identity.