For as long as I can remember, I have dealt with an invisible illness or disability. When I was a child, I had severe asthma. Some days, breathing became incredibly difficult, forcing me to sit out during gym class. Other kids complained that it was unfair because I appeared fine. Little did I know that such comments would persist throughout my life, coming from people of all ages.

At the age of 14, I had an accident that resulted in severe spinal injuries. For months, I couldn’t walk properly and spent weeks confined to bed. The unbearable pain forced me to quit my sport, leaving me with compromised mobility. That same year, I started high school. Participating in gym class was impossible, and I needed a school elevator key to reach the second floor due to the excruciating pain. While I was trying to come to terms with my new life, hurtful comments made behind my back and to my face continued to haunt me. It wasn’t the mockery and name-calling that affected me the most, but rather the comments from people who couldn’t grasp the extent of my struggles. They would say things like, “You’re so lucky you don’t have to do gym” or “Having an elevator key must be nice.” But luck had nothing to do with it. I was a 14-year-old girl who couldn’t move like her peers, who had lost her sport, her team, and her athleticism. I missed out on experiences others took for granted, such as enjoying gym class with friends or trying out for sports teams. Simply moving from one class to another without excruciating pain was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Yet, I was called lucky. Unfortunately, as the people around me matured, judgment, skepticism, and disbelief only became more prevalent in my life.

The most hurtful comments about my pain came from a specialist I consulted after my injury. I shared every detail—how it happened, where it hurt, the intensity of my pain, and my inability to function normally. Despite my explanations about nerve and muscle pain, the specialist performed only one test, a bone scan, focusing solely on my bones. When the results came back negative, indicating no bone injuries, he dismissed my concerns, claiming that all the pain I experienced was in my head, a result of anxiety. He saw no reason for further testing and even denied the possibility of my pain being a 10/10, stating that I wouldn’t be able to walk if it were true.

I endured comments like these for years. I tried not to complain about my pain, fearing judgment. However, there were times when the pain became too unbearable, and I had to pause and take a break. Whether it was due to my chronic pain, asthma, or heart condition, there were certain things I simply couldn’t physically do. In those moments, people would comment on how I was “too young to be sick” or “too young to experience such pain.” They dismissed what I told them because I didn’t “look” sick or disabled.

In 2022, after five years of chronic pain and mobility issues caused by other conditions, I finally applied for and received an accessible parking pass. My doctor agreed it would make my life a little easier, alleviating some of the pain. The pass has been incredibly helpful, aiding my discomfort and providing a small measure of independence. However, despite these passes being granted only to those who genuinely need them, it doesn’t prevent people from making comments when they see me using my disability aid. One afternoon, as I was leaving the grocery store and getting into my car parked in the accessible space, a mother noticed and said to her teenage daughter with annoyance, “Look at that, she’s using the disabled parking. Look at the sign.” She couldn’t see my pass from where she was standing and made an assumption that I was wrongly parked there based on my physical appearance looking able-bodied. However, what hurt me the most was not the comment she made; it was the fact that she was now teaching her daughter to judge a person based on their physical appearance.

Just recently, while traveling to visit my mom, I found myself at Calgary Airport going through customs. The regular line was quite long, and I was in pain from standing for too long. I tried to use the accessible line but was stopped by an employee who told me the line was in the opposite direction. I explained that I was heading for the accessible line, but she looked me up and down and said to my face, “Are you even disabled?” My heart sank, and I was so angry that I simply walked off and joined the regular queue, despite my pain. I didn’t have the energy to argue with her. It was incredibly hurtful and embarrassing, especially since she said it in front of her coworker. It bothered me for the rest of the day and made the rest of my travel experience incredibly painful.

Teen Vogue shared an article back in 2018 titled “People With Chronic Illness Share the Hurtful Comments They Hear Daily.” The article highlights comments that people with chronic illnesses have had to endure. Out of the 18 comments shared by individuals, I wanted to express how many of these comments I have personally heard.

“You don’t look sick.”

“You’re too young to be that sick.”

“I know how you feel.”

“At least you don’t have…”

“It’s all in your head.”

“You just need to push through.”

“It’s nice that the government pays your bills for you.”

“Have you tried…? This friend of a friend of mine did and cured themselves!”

“I know someone with that condition, and they’re fine, so it must not be that bad.”

“You shouldn’t focus so much on your pain.”

“You’re lucky you don’t have to work.”

“You let your pain define you.”

“Just think positive.”

“It must be nice to be able to take naps.”

“You would feel better if you got out of bed and did something.”

“You’re such an inspiration.”

“Feel better soon!”

I have heard all of the above comments at least once in my life. Some were from strangers, some from doctors, and even from my own family and friends. These comments are hurtful. I am not lucky to have a chronic illness. It is not something that simply goes away with a few vitamins and positive thoughts. I am stuck with this for life. If you don’t understand why these comments can be hurtful, I strongly encourage you to read the full article published by Teen Vogue. The personal stories shared by these individuals provide perspective on why comments like these are difficult for us to hear and why phrases like “you’re an inspiration” and “feel better soon” are not always positive, despite your good intentions. We appreciate your efforts, and we know you mean well, but this is our reality, and it doesn’t disappear.

Unfortunately, there is no happy ending to this post. This is the harsh reality of living with chronic illness and chronic pain. Everyone I know who suffers from a chronic illness has heard these comments countless times. All I ask is that you think before you speak and consider how your words may affect someone. You would never look at someone with a cast and question whether their leg is “really” broken. Be kind.

If you struggle with chronic illness, or an invisible disability, I encourage you to share comments people have made about you, and how they are harmful rather than helpful. Feel free to leave a comment in the box below, or DM me on instagram @chronicallythriving.ca