The world keeps spinning, and I keep hiding.

I left the corporate world in 2019, choosing to move out of the hustle and bustle of New York City back to the suburbs to focus on my physical and mental health. I had been living with rheumatoid arthritis for a few years by then, which was controlled well by medication, but not “getting better.” My rheumatologist at the time told me that with less than 5% chance of me ever getting into remission, I should just come to terms with the fact that I will likely be on Methotrexate for the rest of my life.

It took me over half a year to get a diagnosis. When I didn’t have treatment or even a name for the excruciating pain I was dealing with on a day to day basis, combined with the fear of one joint after another being “consumed” by this mysterious disease, having a treatment plan that included less pain and less inflammation would have been a godsend. But once I got into a groove of less pain and less inflammation for a few years, as a human, I got greedy.

I wanted no pain and no inflammation.

There was less than 5% chance of me ever getting into remission, and I didn’t really expect to be in that lucky 5%, but I figured maybe I could have the conditions so well controlled that I don’t need my daily pain killers or to wake up in the morning with stiff and tender joints.

Working multiple jobs and chasing careers in New York City was exhilarating, and I constantly felt like I was in the “center of the world, where everything happens.” But I realized that the big city life (and all the expectations that came with it) was very much not conducive to “relaxation” and “stress free.” So I quit my job and left.

Then COVID happened. The whole world shut down. “Everyone” was isolating, afraid of this invisible monster, trying our best to keep hope and families alive. We started video chats with friends, using social media a lot more, and social distancing and interacting with others remotely became a norm. Immune-compromised, I was vigilant about staying put and wearing masks for a long time.

As someone who was isolated from the world physically because I had moved out of my social and professional circle into the suburbs where I knew almost no one and couldn’t even drive, friends embracing remote interaction helped me stay connected and not feel as alone.

Within 2 years of moving out of New York City, after daily walks amongst nature, I was in full remission. No medication, no inflammation, no pain. Now, years into my full remission, and birthing 2 children (pregnancies and postpartum times are high-risk periods for auto-immune disorders), I definitely take my pain-free, drug-free, and inflammation-free life for granted.

And with the world opening back up, and me waking up from a deep unrestful “slumber” that was 2 pregnancies and postpartum periods, I feel like I have been watching a globe spin around with everyone else on it.

The world spinning on and on. Without me.

To be fair, the world/globe had been spinning around without me, with me lying exhausted to the side for a while now. But with my 2nd baby about to turn one, and starting daycare soon, I’m feeling the isolation and anxiety more acutely.

Leaving corporate and the world and shutting myself in my house, I thought that I was creating a world that I was comfortable in as a socially-anxious and easily exhausted human. But 6 years in, I’m wondering if I made a mistake in forging a life where I have the ability to so completely cut off my connection with the rest of the world.

Chatting up someone online that I haven’t spoken to in a while is so anxiety-inducing that I have urges to delete my message and pretend I didn’t reach out. I write posts or messages, and then delete them because I don’t want a reply that could potentially be negative (chances of that is very low, and I know that).

When I hang out with friends, I spend hours afterwards wondering if I’d made someone upset or said something I shouldn’t have said. I’ve always been an anxious person, but I feel like recently it’s getting to an extreme.

I feel “left behind” by the world, but at the same time, I am deathly afraid of the world, and don’t feel ready to face it.

Conflicting emotions and anxieties swirl around inside me. I know that in 40 years, I would be wishing that I had been more present in the now, soaking up the first few years of my children’s lives that will definitely never be coming back. But the me now feels restless, like I should be doing something… I just don’t know what… and just anxious, anxious about interacting with people.

For now, once the baby begins attending daycare, I will try to focus on physically and mentally recovering from the birthing traumas of the past 3 years, learning to cook, and maybe finding a hobby or two. Maybe after few weeks of rest, I’ll have the energy to begin the process of facing the world again…