"We don't believe in rheumatism and true love until after the first attack." - Marie Ebner von Eschenbach

In an era marked by skepticism and empirical scrutiny, the words of 19th-century Austrian writer Marie Ebner von Eschenbach resonate with uncanny relevance: “We don’t believe in rheumatism and true love until after the first attack.” This pithy observation, blending the physical and emotional realms, begs a closer examination of how humans grapple with abstract concepts—be they ailments of the body or the heart—only when confronted by their undeniable force.

Rheumatism, a term historically encompassing chronic pain affecting joints and connective tissues, serves as a fitting metaphor for life’s intangible challenges. For many, its existence remains theoretical until stiffness, swelling, or a sudden twinge renders it inescapable. A 2023 study by the Global Arthritis Foundation revealed that 40% of respondents under 40 dismissed arthritis as “an older person’s issue,” only to later acknowledge its severity after witnessing a loved one’s struggle or experiencing early symptoms themselves. Dr. Elena Torres, a rheumatologist at Vienna Medical University, notes, “Patients often downplay joint pain until it disrupts daily life. The ‘first attack’ forces a reckoning—they can no longer ignore what they cannot see.”

Similarly, the notion of “true love” often faces dismissal until it strikes with visceral intensity. Modern dating culture, dominated by fleeting connections and algorithm-driven apps, has fueled cynicism about lasting romance. Yet stories abound of skeptics transformed by unexpected encounters. Take Sofia M., a 32-year-old journalist from Berlin, who identified as “pragmatically single” until meeting her partner during a delayed train ride. “I rolled my eyes at love-at-first-sight clichés,” she admits. “But then, there it was—a connection so immediate it felt like a primal wake-up call. I finally understood what poets meant.”

Psychologists attribute this pattern to cognitive bias. Dr. Liam Carter, a behavioral scientist at Cambridge, explains, “Humans rely on heuristic thinking—discounting phenomena outside their lived experience. Pain and love are abstract until personalized. The ‘first attack’ disrupts mental shortcuts, forcing a rewrite of one’s worldview.” This duality is echoed in literature and art, from Shakespeare’s rueful sonnets to Frida Kahlo’s visceral depictions of physical and emotional suffering.

Yet Eschenbach’s analogy invites deeper reflection on vulnerability. Rheumatism, often invisible, demands acknowledgment of bodily fragility; love requires surrendering to forces beyond control. Both experiences, though universal, isolate individuals in their specificity. “My pain is mine alone,” says Michael R., a retired teacher living with rheumatoid arthritis. “But sharing my story helped others recognize their own thresholds—for illness and for love.”

In a digitized world increasingly detached from tactile reality, Eschenbach’s words remind us that some truths remain stubbornly personal. The “first attack”—whether of disease or desire—serves as a threshold, bridging doubt and acceptance. As society navigates evolving definitions of health and relationships, perhaps the key lies in balancing skepticism with humility, recognizing that belief often follows lived experience. Or, as Sofia quips, “Life has a way of teaching lessons you didn’t know you’d signed up for.” After all, rheumatism and love, in their wake, leave no room for denial—only the choice to adapt, endure, or embrace.