This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Narae Yun. It has been edited for length and clarity. When you think about being a 20-something living and working in New York, you think about a fast-paced lifestyle. I was living that, working at an investment-banking company and going on runs around the Big Apple. When I met friends and family, I appeared vibrant and well. Behind the scenes, it was a different story. I started experiencing aching fingers. As an athlete who did gymnastics regularly, I was used to aches, pain, and muscle soreness. But this was different. Looking back years later, I can see there were symptoms that I didn't notice. I slept about 14 hours a day on weekends, for instance. But when you're living with an undiagnosed chronic disease , you don't notice all the little ways it affects your life. You just do the best you can. Eventually, the pain in my fingers was so bad that I spoke with my primary-care doctor. She said I might have carpal tunnel syndrome, but adjusting my desk to positions that typically help with symptoms didn't provide me with relief. I don't blame that doctor. She was suggesting a more-common condition that could have explained my symptoms. Later, I started experiencing prickling sensations throughout my body. I eventually found out they were caused by nerve damage. Blood work at the time showed I had autoimmune markers. Learning that was terrifying. I didn't know what it meant, but I was a little relieved to know it wasn't in my head. Lupus , like other autoimmune diseases, is characterized by periods of intense symptoms and ones of fewer symptoms. I once spent nearly six months in bed. At other times, I lived pain-free. When I felt good, it was almost easy to forget about my illness. The human mind is amazing that way. But when the pain hit, it was unbearable. We're programmed to find a solution to stop pain. If you touch a hot stove, you pull your hand back without thinking. When you have chronic pain, there's seemingly no answer to why you're feeling how you are. That's draining and emotionally scarring. I spent years researching my symptoms. I knew I had lupus before a doctor ever told me. During a trip to Puerto Rico with my boyfriend, I finally found proof. A malar rash, also known as a butterfly rash, appeared on my face. The rash is a main sign of lupus . It's also the only symptom that you can physically show doctors. The rash isn't painful, and I found myself thankful to have it because I knew it would help me get a diagnosis. I was finally diagnosed just before the pandemic began. At that point, I was relieved. Just before my diagnosis, I was in so much pain that I couldn't brush my hair or sit on the toilet without help. A diagnosis opened the door to treatment. While there are few treatments specifically for lupus, doctors can treat the symptoms. That's made a huge difference in my quality of life. I get through my day-to-day and do diversity, equity, and inclusion work that I'm passionate about with a major company. Sharing my story is still uncomfortable. Waiting for a diagnosis was painful, emotionally and physically. Yet I want more people to know about lupus. That's when we'll find a cure: When people care and resources are put toward research. That's why I've started working with the Lupus Research Alliance to raise awareness. Right now, I am living with lupus. I'm also healing from the physical and emotional trauma of the past few years. I'm hopeful I can live a long and fulfilling life as someone who has an influence on the world. .