No one tells you how exhausting it is to be polite about being chronically ill.
No one warns you that one of the hardest parts won’t be the symptoms — it’ll be the explaining, the justifying, the pretending-you’re-fine smile you glue to your face at doctor’s offices, family dinners, and the school gate.
Living with chronic illness doesn’t look like a movie montage. It looks like the same unwashed hair three days in a row. It looks like forgetting words mid-sentence. It looks like cancelling — again — and hating yourself for it.
That Chronic Fatigue? It’s Not Tired. It’s Poisoned.
Chronic fatigue isn’t just being tired. It’s body-in-concrete exhaustion that makes brushing your teeth feel like a marathon. It’s lying in bed hurting from doing nothing. And still, you explain it like you’re “just run down” because people don’t understand what this kind of fatigue actually is. Experts say that for the average person to understand what chronic fatigue feels like, they would need to stay awake for three days straight and then attempt to continue with life as though nothing is wrong.
You Become an Expert at Smiling Through Chronic Pain
You learn to say “I’m fine” while your joints are on fire and your head feels like it’s splitting in two. Because being visibly sick makes people uncomfortable. So, like many living with an invisible illness, you become a master at hiding your truth.
You Feel Guilty All the Time
Guilty for being ill. Guilty for cancelling. Guilty for being “negative.” Guilt becomes your shadow — especially in a world that expects constant productivity. And chronic illness doesn’t come with sick leave for your emotions. It certainly doesn’t give you sick leave for being sick.
You Lose Friends — and You Blame Yourself
Some people slowly drift when you stop being “fun.” Others disappear completely the moment you need support. You start to wonder if you’re just too much — when really, they just weren’t equipped to stay.
Your Body Becomes a Full-Time Job
Living with chronic illness means appointments, test results, meds, insurance, symptom tracking. You become your own medical manager. And half the time, doctors still shrug and say, “We don’t really know.” Ironically, chronically ill people develop skills that could run circles around the top CEOs; we just don’t have the bodies to be able to do the job.
You Start to Doubt Yourself
When your labs come back “normal,” when a doctor dismisses your symptoms, when people say “but you look great” — you begin to gaslight yourself. You wonder if it’s all in your head. This is the quiet cruelty of misunderstood chronic illness.
You Become Fierce in Ways You Never Expected
You stop people-pleasing. Believe me. This is one of the first changes you’ll experience. You learn how to say no, how to rest, how to speak up. Your survival depends on this. Chronic illness teaches you how to be soft and strong — even on the days you’re barely holding it together.
You’re Not Weak — You’re Living a Life Most People Couldn’t Handle
Being chronically ill every day is hard. It’s unseen, often misunderstood, and deeply personal. But you’re not alone. There’s nothing wrong with you. And you are more than your diagnosis.
You’re just learning how to carry the weight of your reality — and that’s a strength no one talks about enough.
You’ve just heard the words. Maybe you were in a sterile office with a doctor who looked serious. Maybe you were alone. Maybe someone was sitting next to you, holding your hand—but the moment still felt isolating. However it happened, one truth remains:
Your life just changed.
A diagnosis can drop like an anvil. Whether it’s multiple sclerosis (like mine), lupus, cancer, fibromyalgia, Parkinson’s, or anything else that doesn’t have a quick fix—it shakes you. It doesn’t just change your body. It changes your future, your plans, your sense of self.
How I Found Out—and Why I Felt Relieved
I remember sitting in that neurologist’s office. He didn’t ease me into it. He just said it: “It’s Multiple Sclerosis.”
And weirdly? I appreciated that. No tiptoeing, no sugar-coating. Just the facts. And after years of being dismissed, ignored, and misdiagnosed, finally being heard was a kind of relief.
I know that sounds strange. But maybe you’ve been there too—feeling your body betray you while doctor after doctor says, “There’s nothing wrong.” Maybe you’ve been told to “lose weight” or “just relax,” even while something inside you screams that something’s not right.
That first moment—being told what’s actually going on? It hurts. But it also validates everything you knew in your gut.
The Emotional Whirlwind After a Diagnosis
You don’t have to be brave today. You don’t need to find a silver lining or start fighting. You just have to breathe.
Cry. Sit in silence. Watch dumb dog videos. Scream into a pillow. All of it’s allowed. Because you’re grieving. And that grief is real and valid.
Grief for the version of you who didn’t know. Grief for your body, for the future you imagined. Grief for the control that slipped through your fingers.
What Chronic Illness Took—and What It Gave
For me, MS has taken plenty. I can’t sing anymore. I used to love dancing—can’t do that either. Fatigue is a constant shadow. Pain, spasms, brain fog—they don’t care about my to-do list.
But strangely, this illness has given me things too. It taught me to set boundaries. To trust myself. To question everything. To listen—really listen—to my body.
I’ve become stronger than I ever thought I could be. Not because I wanted to, but because I had no choice.
Living With an Invisible Illness
Here’s the part that’ll really test you: You might still be doubted.
Even now, people see me park in a disabled spot and give me looks. “You don’t look sick,” they say.
Some “friends” even say they don’t believe me. And those people? I’ve cut them out.
You don’t owe anyone an explanation. You don’t have to look sick to be sick. Invisible illnesses are real. And so is your right to protect your energy.
To the Newly Diagnosed: You’re Still You
You might feel like your body is foreign now. Like you’ve lost something essential. But let me tell you something very important:
You are still whole. You are still worthy. You are still you.
This diagnosis is not the end of your story. It’s a messy, complicated plot twist—but you’re still the author.
And when you’re ready—when you’ve had time to sit with it, grieve it, rage at it—there’s a whole world of people out here who understand. People living with invisible illnesses, chronic pain, hard diagnoses.
We are your people.
We’re not inspirational quotes or toxic positivity. We’re the ones who get it. The ones who live in bodies that fight back—but souls that refuse to quit.
Final Thoughts: How to Cope After a Diagnosis
Write. Journal. Let the chaos spill out onto paper.
Find a support system—online or in person.
Follow accounts that make you laugh.
Listen to your body (it’s not the enemy—it’s the messenger).
Don’t waste energy explaining your pain to people who don’t care.
Grieve the life you thought you’d have.
Then start creating a new one.
And if you’re reading this today—fresh off the heels of that diagnosis—I want to say this loud and clear:
You are not alone. You are not broken. You are still here. And you’re going to be okay. Even if it doesn’t feel like it yet.
Let’s talk about self-care. It’s a buzzword we hear all the time—usually alongside pictures of candles, fancy bath bombs, and someone blissfully sipping tea while wrapped in an overpriced weighted blanket. And while all of those things can be part of self-care (no judgment if you love a good eucalyptus-scented soak), the truth is, self-care is so much more than that.
What Is Self-Care, Really?
Self-care is basically the practice of taking care of yourself—physically, emotionally, and mentally. It’s about checking in with yourself and giving your mind and body what they actually need, not just what looks good on Instagram. Some days, self-care is a peaceful yoga session. Other days, it’s cancelling plans because you’re exhausted and need to recharge in your pajamas.
Think of it like maintaining a car. You wouldn’t expect your car to run smoothly if you never got an oil change, right? Well, your body and mind work the same way. Neglect them for too long, and things start to break down. Self-care is your way of keeping the engine running smoothly (or at least preventing a total breakdown on the side of life’s highway).
The Different Types of Self-Care
Self-care isn’t one-size-fits-all, and it comes in different forms. Here’s a quick breakdown:
1. Physical Self-Care
Moving your body in a way that feels good (not just punishing yourself at the gym)
Eating food that nourishes you and brings you joy (yes, balance includes pizza)
Getting enough sleep (because running on caffeine and vibes isn’t sustainable)
2. Emotional Self-Care
Setting boundaries (because “no” is a full sentence)
Allowing yourself to feel your feelings without guilt
Talking to someone when you need support—whether it’s a friend, therapist, or your dog
3. Mental Self-Care
Unplugging from social media when it starts feeling like a toxic comparison game
Learning new things and keeping your brain engaged
Giving yourself permission to rest, instead of glorifying being “busy”
4. Social Self-Care
Surrounding yourself with people who lift you up, not drain your energy
Making time for friendships that actually bring you joy
Saying goodbye to toxic relationships (because life is too short for drama)
5. Spiritual Self-Care (whatever that means to you)
Meditation, prayer, journaling, or just sitting in silence for five minutes
Spending time in nature and appreciating the little things
Practising gratitude—even on the days when everything feels like a mess
Why Self-Care Isn’t Selfish
A lot of us have been conditioned to think that taking time for ourselves is indulgent or selfish. But here’s the thing: you can’t pour from an empty jug. If you don’t take care of yourself, you’ll eventually hit a wall—and that doesn’t help anyone, least of all you. Prioritizing self-care means you’ll have more energy, patience, and clarity to handle life’s curveballs.
Final Thoughts: Start Small, Be Kind to Yourself
You don’t have to overhaul your entire life overnight. Self-care isn’t a checklist; it’s a practice. Start small—maybe by drinking an extra glass of water, taking a deep breath when you’re stressed, or finally making that doctor’s appointment you’ve been putting off.
And most importantly, be kind to yourself. Because at the end of the day, self-care is about treating yourself like someone you actually care about. And you deserve that.
So, what’s one small way you can take care of yourself today?
Yes—self-care has become a buzzword, often reduced to bubble baths, expensive skincare, and perfectly curated “wellness” routines on social media. But self-care isn’t just about face masks and herbal tea. It’s about taking care of yourself in ways that actually make a difference—physically, mentally, and emotionally.
If you’ve ever felt like self-care is just another thing on your to-do list, this is for you. I’ve struggled with this myself—especially with guilt. If I take time to rest, I feel guilty for not being productive. If I set boundaries, I feel guilty for disappointing someone. And that guilt? It spirals into overthinking, stress, and eventually, complete exhaustion. So, I’ve had to learn—the hard way—that self-care isn’t a luxury. It’s survival. Here are practical, realistic self-care ideas that actually help—without the pressure, guilt, or fluff.
Mental Self-Care: Taking Care of Your Mind
✔ Say No Without Guilt – Protecting your energy is self-care. If something drains you, it’s okay to say no. Your time and peace are valuable. This is something I still struggle with, but when I do say no, I feel a massive weight lifted off my shoulders. ✔ Curate Your Social Media Feed – Unfollow accounts that make you feel bad about yourself. I did this recently, and I swear, my anxiety dropped overnight. ✔ Brain Dump Before Bed – If racing thoughts keep you up at night, try journaling or making a list of worries before bed. Getting thoughts onto paper helps clear mental clutter. Or so I’ve been told, I have yet to try journaling. ✔ Schedule Worry Time – Instead of spiralling into anxiety all day, give yourself a dedicated 10-15 minutes to sit with your worries. It tricks your brain into worrying less. (I was sceptical about this one, but it actually works.) ✔ Learn Something New (For Fun) – Read a book, listen to a podcast, or take an online class—not for productivity but because it excites you.
Physical Self-Care: Taking Care of Your Body
✔ Move, Even a Little – If you don’t feel like working out, just stretch for five minutes, take a walk around the block, or dance to one song in your kitchen. It all counts. I used to think exercise had to be all or nothing, but even small movement helps my mood. ✔ Hydrate, But Make It Fun – If plain water bores you, add lemon, cucumber, or mint. Herbal tea counts, too! I used to be terrible at drinking enough water until I started using a bottle with a straw—turns out, small tricks help. ✔ Eat Something That Makes You Feel Good – Not diet culture “good,” but actually good—whether that’s a nourishing meal or a comforting treat. I used to guilt myself over food choices, but now I try to listen to what my body actually needs. ✔ Rest Without Guilt – Naps are productive. Taking a break isn’t lazy—it’s how you recharge. This one is still hard for me, but I’m learning that burnout helps no one. ✔ Do a Body Check-In – Instead of ignoring tension or stress, take a second to ask, What does my body need right now? A stretch? A deep breath? A snack? Listen to it.
Emotional Self-Care: Taking Care of Your Heart
✔ Give Yourself Permission to Feel – Whatever you’re feeling—anger, sadness, frustration—it’s valid. You don’t have to “fix” it immediately. I used to push my feelings away, but that just made things worse. Now, I let myself feel them without judgment. ✔ Stop Doomscrolling – Social media and news cycles can be overwhelming. Take breaks when needed. I’ve noticed that when I unplug, even for a few hours, my stress levels drop significantly. I stopped watching the news a few months ago, it has been a massive help to my mental well-being. ✔ Reach Out to Someone You Trust – A quick text or call to a friend can be grounding. You don’t have to go through things alone. I have a habit of isolating when I’m struggling, but I always feel better after reaching out. ✔ Create a Comfort Playlist – Songs that make you feel safe, nostalgic, or happy. Music is powerful. I have a playlist for when I need to feel strong, and another for when I just need to cry it out. Both are self-care. ✔ Celebrate Small Wins – Give yourself credit for the things you do, even if they seem minor. Got out of bed? That’s a win. Responded to one email? Win. I am still struggling with this one because I tend to put a lot of pressure on myself to constantly be making progress.
Final Thoughts: Keep It Simple & Sustainable
Self-care isn’t about doing everything perfectly—it’s about small, consistent actions that help you feel better. Forget what social media says it “should” look like. Real self-care is about what works for you. And for me? That means learning to let go of guilt, taking breaks without self-judgment, and reminding myself that I deserve care, too.
Pick one or two things from this list and start there. No pressure, no guilt—just small steps toward feeling better, one day at a time. 💛
Healing isn’t a neat, Pinterest-worthy process. It’s messy, unpredictable, and at times it feels like you’re going backwards. You think you’re doing better, then boom—something knocks the wind out of you, and you’re right back in that heavy place. No one really talks about that part.
There’s this glossy narrative floating around about “overcoming trauma”—as if healing is just a matter of ticking a few boxes, drinking green juice, lighting a candle, and suddenly you’re whole again. But in reality, healing is gritty work. It’s slow and it’s quiet and most of it happens behind closed doors, in the dark corners of the soul where nobody claps for you.
For me, the hardest part has been the loneliness. Even when you’re surrounded by people who care, no one else can actually crawl inside your skin and do the work for you. And when the people around you don’t quite get it—or worse, think you should be over it by now—it can make you feel even more alone. It’s not just about processing pain; it’s grieving the version of you that never got to exist. The version that didn’t get hurt. The version that felt safe in the world.
Trauma changes you. That’s not a failure—it’s just a fact. And coming to terms with that truth is its own kind of heartbreak.
And then there’s the body—oh, the body keeps score whether we want it to or not. Trauma doesn’t just live in your memories; it takes up residence in your muscles, your immune system, your sleep, your skin, your everything. I developed Multiple Sclerosis, and I believe my body finally said, “Enough.” Years of tension, unprocessed fear, self-betrayal… it adds up.
There’s also this strange guilt that creeps in when healing doesn’t follow the tidy timeline society seems to expect. We’re conditioned to believe that recovery should be linear—fast, visible, “productive.” But healing doesn’t care about your calendar. Some days you’re meditating and eating your veggies, and other days you’re crying in your car and ghosting everyone. Both days count.
And then there are the triggers—the tiny landmines that can blow a hole in your progress without warning. A smell, a song, a stupid Facebook memory. Suddenly, you’re not here anymore—you’re there, again. It’s jarring. But here’s the thing: being triggered isn’t proof you’ve failed. It’s proof you’re still healing. It’s part of learning how to live with what happened without letting it define you.
One of the strangest side effects of healing is that you might outgrow people. As you start setting boundaries and prioritising your peace, some relationships fall apart. It hurts—especially when those people once felt like your home—but it’s a necessary kind of grief. Not everyone is meant to walk with you through your healing. Some were only ever there to survive the storm, not rebuild after it.
And then there’s the fear of feeling too much. When you finally let yourself feel, it can feel like opening a floodgate. Anger, sadness, shame, rage—all the things you’ve tried so hard to outrun come rushing in. It’s overwhelming, yes. But it’s also where the magic begins. Because the only way out is through. Feeling doesn’t mean you’re falling apart—it means you’re finally listening.
Truth is, healing doesn’t mean going back to who you were before the trauma. That version of you is gone. But that doesn’t mean you’re broken. It just means you’re building someone new—someone wiser, stronger, more self-aware. Someone with roots, not just wounds.
Relearning how to trust yourself after trauma is no small feat. But it’s possible. With time, with gentleness, with truth. And maybe that’s the most powerful part of healing—not the big, dramatic breakthroughs, but the quiet decision to keep going. To get up, again and again, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.
So if you’re in the thick of it, please know: you’re not doing it wrong. It’s just that healing is hard. And you’re doing it anyway. That’s the victory.
