
When you’re living with chronic illness, the phrase “you’re not alone” is tossed around more than a football on a Friday night. But being surrounded by people doesn’t necessarily mean you feel supported. In fact, some of the most isolating moments happen in rooms full of people who don’t get it.
Support is not about quantity. It’s about quality, alignment, and energy. You need people who don’t just stand near you, but stand with you.
The Energy Audit: Who Belongs in Your Circle?
If someone constantly makes you feel like you have to prove your pain or justify your fatigue, they’re not support—they’re emotional overhead.
A good support system:
- Believes you without requiring a lab report.
- Doesn’t minimize your experience by saying, “At least it’s not [insert worse perceived thing here].”
- Knows when to listen and when to distract you with dog memes and trash TV.
You’re not obligated to keep people close just because they’re family or have been in your life forever. You can care about someone and still move them out of your inner circle when their energy costs too much.
Curating the Right Team
Support can come in many forms. There’s no rule that says it has to be a best friend or partner. Sometimes your strongest allies are:
- An online friend who shares your diagnosis and sends you post-appointment pep talks.
- A physical therapist who treats you like a person, not a problem to fix.
- A therapist who doesn’t flinch when you say you feel broken and bitter and over it.
- A patient advocate who can step in when your brain is too fried to deal with another insurance denial.
The mix is up to you. Support systems are allowed to be curated. Just like your meds, not everyone is a good fit—and that’s OK.
The Guilt of Letting Go
Setting boundaries doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful or dramatic. It means you’re protecting the tiny reserve of energy that gets you through the day.
You don’t owe constant updates to people who don’t make space for your reality. You don’t have to smile through unsolicited advice or pressure yourself to maintain relationships that leave you feeling more alone than helped.
Sometimes support is quiet, and that’s totally cool. A check-in text. A ride to an appointment. Someone who says, “I don’t get it, but I’m here.”
Final Thought
You don’t have to explain your symptoms to be worthy of support. You don’t need to be more cheerful, more patient, or more optimistic to deserve care. Build the team that gets it—or at the very least, respects it.
Because when you have the right people around you, even the hard days feel a little less impossible.
Want more tips on building your support circle? I have a whole chapter dedicated to it in my book How to Be a Badass in a Broken Healthcare System. Available on Amazon, Audible, and Barnes & Noble.
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