“Hey, come out with us tonight. Let’s have some drinks and dance all night.”

Two years ago I wouldn’t even hesitate to reply with an enthusiastic, “Hell yes!” when I received a text such as this from friends. Going out and shaking what our mama’s gave us on the dance floor was a typical Friday night for my friends and me. Oh, if heels could talk. Thank goodness they can’t.

But in the past two years a night out has become rare. Being asked to go out has become even more infrequent as my friends have become increasingly frustrated, understandably so, with my constant lagging and bailing out on them. Believe me, being the dull, dreary homebody is not who I thought I would be at this point in my life. I’m trying a new method though, a little something called compromise, so as not to lose out on moments with my friends or possibly lose them all together.

This weekend turned into my first experiment with compromise. My best friend’s niece, who I’ve known for about 10 years, was celebrating her 15th birthday with an extravagant quincenera. It was a really rough week, but I was ready to bawl my eyes out at the church and get my groove on at the reception. Unfortunately, my good old pals Lupus and Rheumatoid Arthritis, which affects about 1.3 million Americans according to Arthritis.org, had plans of their own that I’m sure they kept secret all week just to ruin this special day. Their evil little plot consisted of making me completely spent and causing pain throughout my body that can only be described as a clamp on every joint that gets tighter and tighter. It just so happens that the worst of it was inflicting its wrath on my right wrist, which of course I needed so I could shower, and especially to style my hair. Lupus is famous for causing this kind of excruciating joint pain.

To cut to the chase, it took me about three hours from start to finish with breaks to rest in between before I was ready to walk out the door. The most painful part of getting ready with a wrist that is being invaded by arthritis is blow-drying my hair. Good Lord that in and of itself took an hour or more. I know most girls take quite a lot of time to get ready, but I think we can all agree that three hours is borderline ridiculous. Perhaps you can see why I never go out anymore.

However, in this case I was determined to share in this day with my best friend and her family so I made a compromise. I wouldn’t make it to the church, but I was going to make it to that glorious reception no matter how many breaks I needed to take in between. Thankfully I have a very understanding best friend who is well aware that I try too hard to do too much too often.

I may not be able to dance the night away anymore without having a partner to lean on, but I will have you know I had a blast laughing all night with my friends.These moments and memories are so precious to me and those are two things I refuse to let Lupus steal from me.