What Chronic Illness Has Taught Me About Friendship
& The Friendships That Stayed
One of the most unexpected parts of getting sick was realizing how much it would affect my relationships — especially my friendships.
When all of this started, I didn’t even know what was going on.
I would wake up in pain — a lot of pain — and I didn’t have the words to describe it. I would wake up completely exhausted after I just slept 12 hours.
I couldn’t explain why I was so tired, or why I had to cancel plans, or why my body suddenly felt like it was made of bricks on fire. I didn’t have a diagnosis. I didn’t have answers. I just knew that something in me had changed — and not in a small way.
Even when I finally got one of my first diagnosis — fibromyalgia — it didn’t really change anything in terms of being understood. Because let’s be honest… no one really knows what the f*** fibromyalgia is. It’s a word people have heard, but they don’t get it. They don’t understand how much it affects your body, your mind, your day-to-day life. They can’t see it — and because of that, it’s easy for people to assume you’re fine.
And honestly? I got tired of trying to explain it.
I still get tired. It’s emotionally exhausting to constantly advocate for yourself, to try and justify why you’re not the same person you used to be, why you can’t “just push through.”
Some people fell away.
Not necessarily out of malice — sometimes just out of discomfort. Or confusion. Or the slow, quiet distance that grows when someone doesn’t know how to show up for a version of you they don’t understand.
But here’s the thing: the people who did stay? They stayed deep.
My five core friendships — they’ve held.
They’ve flexed. They’ve shifted. But they’ve stayed.
And one of those friendships has grown even stronger through this season — more honest, more supportive, more connected than ever.
Chronic illness stripped away a lot.
But it also showed me what real friendship looks like.
It looks like grace when I don’t text back for a week.
It looks like someone bringing me food without asking.
It looks like “I’m thinking of you” voice notes, even when I go quiet.
It looks like not needing to explain every detail to be loved through it.
I’m still learning how to be a friend while managing my health.
And I’m still learning how to receive friendship — not just when I’m fun or helpful or “on,” but when I’m exhausted, flaring, and can’t do anything but lay down and cry.
It’s still a work in progress. But like everything else on this journey… I’m learning.
And I’m grateful for the ones who are learning alongside me.
