A Silent Battle

The author requested anonymity.

Enjoy✨

Good morning, afternoon, or evening whenever you receive this message.

To begin, I am a chronic illness warrior and have been for quite a while. My journey has been unpredictable, with constant ups and downs, never stable, always fluctuating. Some days I’m better, and some days I’m completely bedridden. Those who are also warriors will understand just how bad it can get, so I won’t dwell too much on that. Instead, I want to focus on something else: the role of supporters in our lives.

For those who live with chronic illness, you’ve probably heard people say, "You’ve been in pain for so long, you should be used to it by now." But we know that’s not how it works. Pain isn’t something you simply "get used to." Sometimes, it becomes so unbearable that you physically can’t do anything. People who haven’t experienced it firsthand just don’t understand.

I’ve had days where I’ve gone three days without showering, using wipes instead, because I physically couldn’t stand long enough to bathe. I used to feel ashamed of that, until I found an online support group. Through that group, I came across a website where people shared their experiences, like how they sometimes miss brushing their teeth because they don’t have the energy. And that’s when I realized: it’s okay. Pushing yourself too hard only hurts you more.

A message to supporters:

Stop making the warrior’s pain about you. Stop saying, "It hurts me so much to see you in pain." We already know it hurts you. A support system, whether it’s a best friend, a partner, or family, will obviously feel the weight of our struggles.

I have a boyfriend, and I know this journey is hard on him. But he never makes it about him. He never calls me a burden. He never tells me that my illness is affecting his emotional stability. He carries the weight without making me feel guilty for being sick. Meanwhile, my own family does the opposite, and that pain cuts deep.

That’s why I now prefer spending time with my boyfriend rather than with my family. Being with them is draining. I can’t even be sick in peace because the moment I am in pain, the conversation shifts to how they feel about it.

I’m not saying that supporters shouldn’t express their emotions. Of course, it’s emotionally difficult to see a loved one suffer. A parent watching their child in pain will obviously feel devastated. I understand that completely. But that doesn’t mean you should make the sick person feel guilty for being ill.

Being sick is not a choice. We never had a say in this. People always tell us how strong we are, but the truth is, we weren’t given a choice. We didn’t wake up one day and decide to be warriors. We were forced to be strong because we had no other option.

To all supporters, I ask you: Have you ever truly tried to see things from the warrior’s perspective? Have you ever sat down and imagined what it feels like to lose parts of yourself to illness?

Many of the warriors I’ve connected with have lost something: some lost the ability to finish school, losing that intellectual part of themselves. Some lost friends, isolating them further. Some even lost their partners, going through divorces and breakups, despite once believing they had someone who would stand by them through sickness and health. Yet, when illness became too much, they were abandoned.

Chronic illness often strikes during youth, robbing many of us of experiences we should have had. We are forced to mature far beyond our years: mentally and emotionally aging 15 to 20 years ahead of our time, because we must manage so much more than our bodies can handle. And yet, instead of lightening our load, many supporters only add to it by constantly talking about their struggles in dealing with our pain. That is selfish.

Before you speak about how our illness affects you, consider how it affects us. Consider the battles we fight daily: physical, emotional, and mental. You have no idea how deeply mental health suffers when you’re a warrior. The number of warriors I’ve met who have been suicidal is heartbreaking, including myself. I have attempted suicide three times. Obviously, they were failed attempts because I’m still here, speaking to you now.

The strength it takes to make the decision to end your own life is immense. It requires great strength. When I hear that someone has attempted suicide and survived, all I want to do is hold them, because I know the thoughts that must have been running through their mind. I know they were thinking about the people they love most.

I can’t work. I can’t do odd jobs. I can’t go back and study something easy on my body. I can’t do anything. I’m stuck in a loop I cannot escape. I want out, but I can’t run. I wish I could wake up one day and realize this was all a bad dream. That I was in a coma and now I’m back, free from this reality. But that’s not my reality. My reality is waking up every day, forcing a smile, pretending to be okay, and being strong for other people. Because I have no choice.

The hardest thing in life is not having a reason to live except for other people.

And for those who judge self-harm—stop. People who self-harm are not looking for attention. They are trying to save themselves from suicide. Self-harm gives them a pain they can control when everything else is out of their hands. It gives them a feeling when depression makes them numb. If you’ve never been in that position, do not judge. You have no right.

And to supporters—yes, I understand that you bear emotional and financial burdens, especially if you are caring for someone who cannot work or is a minor. But do not act like that compares to what the warrior carries.

We bear physical pain, emotional trauma, and medical trauma, because, yes, medical trauma is real. Warriors are constantly gaslit by doctors who tell them they’re not sick simply because their illness isn’t easy to diagnose. Some are told they’re "crazy," that their pain isn’t real. Imagine suffering every day and having medical professionals dismiss you.

So, supporters, stop being selfish. Stop making this about you. If you have nothing helpful or supportive to say, shut up. Do not add to the burden we already carry. And if you truly can’t handle it, then walk away. It is better to leave than to stay and make a warrior’s life even harder.

Final words to supporters:

The wounds and pain that warriors show you? That is nothing compared to what they actually endure. Chronic illness warriors have learned to hide their pain. I laugh through excruciating pain. I smile while suffering. If you ever see me showing that I am in pain, then inside, I am dying.

So please, just make it easier for them.