When Your Body Becomes the Battleground: Living with Autoimmune Disease

If you live with an autoimmune disease, or love someone who does, you know it can feel like your body is working against you. It is not “just being tired” or “just eating the wrong foods.” It is your immune system confusing friend for foe, and the result is a daily reality that can feel unpredictable and overwhelming.

How Autoimmune Diseases Work

Think of your immune system as a security guard. Its job is to recognize harmful invaders like bacteria, viruses, or toxins and take them down. Normally, that guard is sharp, quick, and accurate.

But in autoimmune diseases, the guard gets confused. Instead of only chasing the bad guys, it mistakes your own healthy cells for intruders. Scientists believe this happens because of a mix of genetics, environmental triggers like infections or toxins, and sometimes hormonal influences.

When this mistake happens, the immune system creates autoantibodies or activates immune cells that attack the body itself. The end result is inflammation that does not turn off. Sometimes it zeroes in on one organ, like the thyroid in Hashimoto’s or the pancreas in Type 1 diabetes. Other times, it spreads throughout the body, like in lupus or rheumatoid arthritis.

How This Plays Out in Real Life

The science explains the process, but it doesn’t capture what life actually feels like.

Autoimmune diseases often bring pain, fatigue, and limited mobility. They can cause organ damage, and if not managed carefully, they can even shorten life expectancy. Mentally and emotionally, the constant stress and unpredictability increase rates of depression and anxiety. The invisible nature of many of these diseases adds another layer of difficulty. You may look fine on the outside, while inside you are struggling.

Daily life becomes a balancing act. Flare-ups come and go without warning. One day you can get through work or family responsibilities. The next, you may be stuck in bed or unable to eat without pain. School, work, and social plans get interrupted over and over again. Medical appointments, bloodwork, and medication schedules become a regular part of life. And of course, the financial impact of medications and missed work is real and heavy.

My Experience with Crohn’s

With Crohn’s disease, unpredictability is the name of the game. I have learned to always know where the nearest bathroom is, because sudden cramps and urgent trips to the toilet can take over without warning. The pain and exhaustion can be relentless. Add to that the emotional rollercoaster of not knowing how I will feel from one day to the next, and it is easy to feel like life is running me instead of the other way around.

Then there are the medications. Prednisone, for example, can bring relief but also comes with wild side effects. I have lived through the mood swings, the insomnia, and what I jokingly call “roid rage.” Imagine crying over a commercial one minute and snapping at a houseplant the next. Not exactly the calm and centered life I would choose.

And yet, I have learned that fighting against my body only makes everything harder.

Finding Hope

Living with an autoimmune disease has taught me that sometimes, yes, I have to push through. There are times when rest is not an option, when life demands more than my body wants to give. And often, I pay for it later. That is part of the reality of chronic illness.

But when I can, the greatest gift I give myself is surrender. Allowing rest. Letting my body soften into the space it needs instead of forcing it to be somewhere it cannot.

This surrender is not giving up. It is listening. It is compassion. It is the choice to meet myself where I am today, instead of where I think I should be.

The tools that help me do this are simple, but powerful. Somatic movement teaches me to release tension gently, one small motion at a time. Yoga helps me connect breath with body, moving at the pace that feels right for me, not for the perfect pose in a book. Art journaling gives me a place to pour out emotions that feel too heavy for words. These practices are not cures, but they are lifelines. They ground me. They remind me that even if my body feels unpredictable, I still have ways to create peace and relief.

Over time, consistent practice with these tools has changed the way I live with Crohn’s. Instead of treating my body like an enemy, I treat it like a partner. Some days we are in sync. Other days we argue. But when I practice listening, I find more calm, more compassion, and more hope.

Autoimmune disease may never disappear from my life, but I have learned that healing does not always mean curing. Healing can mean softening into what is here, finding tools that support me, and choosing again and again to treat myself with gentleness.

That is the kind of hope I want to share.