The Chronic Life

Six Things Healthy People Say That Should Be Illegal

Chronic illness doesn’t mean we want your advice

Have you tried being vegan? (Photo by Artur Voznenko on Unsplash)

There should be a license required to speak with chronically ill people.

A simple certification, with a written exam asking questions like, “Mary has a muscle disease. Do you a) tell her to try yoga, b) tell her to stay smiling, c) ask if she’s tried turmeric, or d) ask how you can help?”

The answer, of course, is to ask how you can help. Pass the exam, and you receive an Official License to Comment on Other People’s Bodies.

Fail, and you’re required to keep your mouth shut at all times.

If you live with chronic pain or illness, you know exactly what I’m talking about. The never-ending unsolicited advice, the jovial minimization of your illness. The platitudes, and worst of all, being told to “stay positive.” If their only medical credentials are that they own a Peloton and sometimes get headaches, they’re basically the most annoying person alive.

The thing is, comments will show up wearing what looks like concern. What they leave behind is self-doubt, exhaustion, and the urge to go live in a lighthouse on an island somewhere.

The tragedy is that most people mean well and want to help. They try to be encouraging, not realizing they’re chipping away at who you are. They want to make sense of your distress, when that’s something that doesn’t even make sense to those of us who suffer. So they’ll reach for the nearest shitty piece of advice that fell out of their brains and throw it our way.

So without further ado, I give you a survival guide for anyone tired of being polite about their own pain. Welcome to the unofficial handbook for surviving other people’s well-meaning bull crap.

“Have you tried yoga?”

Yes. I have also tried doctors. Plus medication, diet, supplements, physical therapy, resting, prayer, symptom logs, meditation, tears, screaming, and making deals with the universe in the early hours of the morning.

Crazy, though. Yoga didn’t cure me. Now be quiet.

“You don’t look sick.”

Correct. You don’t look stupid, but here we are. 80% to 90% of all illnesses are invisible. Can you see cancer? MS? MCAS? No? Then shut thy mouth.

“My cousin had that, and they just changed their diet.”

Cool. Good for Cousin Claude, or whoever got better because they quit eating Slim Jims and washing them down with Mountain Dew. My body did not attend the same seminar that would ask me to join their MLM and buy their food. Shush now.

“At least it’s not cancer.”

This is true. However, nobody has ever been healed or felt better because someone else felt worse. I mean, really. This one’s the height of rudeness. My reply? “At least it’s not that one disease that makes you say stupid things.” Be gone.

“Maybe it’s just stress.”

Yes. Living in a chronically ill body is, in fact, stressful. Thank you for your groundbreaking contribution to medical science. In fact, it’s listening to inane comments that causes me stress. Yes. That would be your cue to shut up.

“You just need to think more positively.”

Huh. Strangely, my immune system doesn’t respond to Pinterest quotes and motivational memes. You’d think that would do it. Shut your trap.

Those are just a few of the many, many times we have been condescended to, treated like we’re crazy, or — and this is laughable — seeking negative attention.

When you have a chronic illness, you’re already navigating every day with a body that fails you. Then throw in dealing with doctors, hospitals, insurance companies, inaccessible systems, lost friendships, lost careers, grief, and sometimes even lost hope. At the very least, don’t add yourself to the list of things that we’re forced to endure.

If you truly want to help, here’s the gold standard: “I believe you. That’s a lot to go through. Do you need me to just listen, or is there a way I can help?”

Believe your friend when they say they are suffering, even if they look fine on the outside.

Be there when someone says they need a friend, and ask how you can be there — don’t assume. Asking what we need rather than trying to fix us would mean so very much.

That’s it. That’s all we need.

Until that time, please do consider this an official warning: If you’re about to recommend any of the above, close your mouth, bite your tongue, and get back on your Peloton.