5 Things You Should Never Say to Someone with Chronic Illness

Chronicles from the Invisible Battle: What Your Healthy Privilege Is Showing​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

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Oh friends, gather 'round for a chat that's been brewing inside me longer than my morning coffee (which, by the way, I can only drink on "good" days when my stomach isn't staging its own personal rebellion).

Living with chronic illness is like being stuck in the world's longest improv show where nobody gave you the script, the stage is constantly tilting, and someone keeps changing the lighting cues. And then, THEN, well-meaning people in the audience keep shouting suggestions that make you want to exit stage left—permanently.

1. "But you don't look sick!"

   Ah yes, the classic opener. Let me tell you about the Oscar-worthy performance I put on just to make it to your brunch. The three-hour prep time, the strategic medication scheduling, the mental calculations of energy expenditure that would impress NASA engineers.

   What I really want to say back is, "I'm sick, not ugly!", Because apparently in the collective imagination, illness must be visibly branded on my face like some medieval scarlet letter. As if chronic conditions should manifest as permanent green skin or perhaps a flashing neon sign above my head that reads "MALFUNCTIONING HUMAN."

   Here's the thing: I've mastered the art of "looking normal" because society tends to get squirmy when I show up as my authentic "everything hurts and I'm seeing spots" self. Meanwhile, Ida (my brilliant service dog co-author) gives me that knowing side-eye that says, "I know you're running on fumes, human. I've been counting your spoons all day."

   Would you prefer I arrive with a medieval plague bell, announcing my symptoms? "UNWELL! UNWELL! The lady and her noble canine companion approach with joint pain and fatigue! Clear the path!"

2. "Have you tried yoga/kale/essential oils/positive thinking?"

   Oh my goodness, YOGA? Never heard of it! You mean that ancient practice that approximately every doctor, physical therapist, random Facebook friend, and neighbor's cousin has suggested?

   Ida actually suggested downward dog years ago (she's an expert, naturally), but strangely, her version of it doesn't cure autoimmune conditions. Though watching her stretch in the morning sunlight does improve my mental health considerably.

   The suggestion implies I haven't been actively participating in my own healing journey, as if I've just been sitting around waiting for someone to mention turmeric. I've tried so many treatments that my bathroom cabinet looks like a failed science experiment and my credit card weeps softly in the night.

3. "At least it's not cancer/terminal/worse"

   Oh, the comparison game! My absolute favorite way to invalidate my entire experience!

   Pain and suffering aren't Olympic sports with medals for who has it worse. When you break your arm, I don't swoop in to remind you that at least you don't have two broken arms. Because that would be weird and unhelpful, right?

   Ida has taught me something profound about suffering – when I'm having a rough day, she doesn't try to philosophize about it or compare it to other dogs' troubles. She simply rests her head on my knee, present in the moment, offering silent solidarity. Sometimes that's worth more than all the well-meaning platitudes in the world.

4. "You just need to push through it!"

   I pushed through it so hard I ended up in the emergency room, Karen!

   The "push through" mentality is like suggesting someone with a broken leg should just "walk it off." For many of us with chronic conditions, pushing beyond our limits doesn't lead to inspiring movie montages—it leads to flare-ups, setbacks, and sometimes serious medical consequences.

5. "It's probably just stress/in your head/because of your diet"

   Ah yes, because my body decided to completely malfunction due to that one time I stress-ate an entire pizza while watching true crime documentaries (though Ida did judge me silently from her bed during that particular episode).

   This suggestion is particularly painful because many of us spent years being dismissed by medical professionals before getting proper diagnoses. We've internalized enough doubt about our own experiences without additional helpings from friends and family.

   Trust me when I say: I WISH it were that simple. I wish eating more broccoli, drinking more water or thinking happy thoughts could reverse the complex physiological processes happening in my body. I'd be face-down in a broccoli field, guzzling water all while chanting positive affirmations if that were the case.

What to Say Instead

Sometimes the most powerful thing you can offer isn't advice or comparisons, but simple acknowledgment: "That sounds really tough" or "How can I support you?" or even "Can I pet your amazing service dog while we watch reality TV and not talk about your illness at all?"

We're not looking for solutions from friends (we've got doctors for that endless treasure hunt). We're looking for the same thing everyone wants—connection, understanding, and occasionally someone to laugh with about the absurdity of it all.

Because if we don't laugh about the time I had to cancel plans because my "spoons ran out" and you thought I was talking about actual silverware, well... then we'd have to cry. And between you and me, I'm saving those tears for when my insurance denies my claims.

So next time you're talking with your chronically ill friend, remember: we're experts in our own experience, we've tried all the yoga, and sometimes we just need you to sit in the messy middle with us—no fixing required.

(And yes, I wrote this blog post from bed, in my pajamas, with Ida serving as both emotional support and editorial director. She deserves at least 40% of the credit, especially for that brilliant section on boundaries. The dog has wisdom.)

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