What Mental Health Awareness Means to the Chronic Illness Community

May is Mental Health Awareness Month, which means your feed is likely filled with soft green ribbons, gentle reminders to breathe, and quotes about self-love. I’m not poo-pooing those efforts. Any awareness is better than no awareness, but if you’re chronically ill, those pastel platitudes can feel more like a slap than support. Because when you’re dealing with a busted body and a broken healthcare system, “self-care” often looks less like a bubble bath and more like surviving another appointment where your concern is ignored.

Mental health for chronically ill patients isn’t a side character. It’s the co-star. And it doesn’t get better with lavender oil and a gratitude journal alone (although I love a good emotional dump in a journal). It gets better when we stop pretending that mental and physical health exist in separate universes. As I wrote in How to Be a Badass in a Broken Healthcare System, “You’re allowed to stumble. You can be a powerhouse and still fumble. You can admit you need a break from fighting insurance companies or providers and still be a force of nature.”

It’s hard to hold your ground when you’re barely holding it together. Chronic illness isn’t just exhausting physically. It chips away at your confidence, your social life, and your sense of identity. And when your symptoms are invisible, dismissed, or gaslit by medical professionals, the emotional fallout is no joke. Depression and anxiety rates are higher in the chronically ill population, not because we’re fragile, but because we’re stuck navigating a system that treats us like we’re exaggerating or too sensitive.

In Chapter 7, I talk about self-care in real life, not the Pinterest board version. “You do not need to earn rest. You are not lazy for choosing recovery over productivity.” Let that sink in. People dealing with chronic health issues are some of the hardest-working, toughest people I know. You don’t owe anyone a tidy house, a perfect diet, or a cheerful attitude while your joints feel like they’re on fire or your gut is screaming. You owe yourself honesty, boundaries, and support.

So what does mental health awareness look like for our community?

It looks like recognizing that asking for help isn’t a weakness. It’s wisdom. Whether that’s therapy, medication, or texting a friend to say “today sucks,” it’s all valid. It’s all brave. It looks like firing the provider who dismissed your symptoms and finding one who actually listens. It looks like creating space in your schedule for rest—not as a reward, but as a necessity.

It also looks like community. Chronic illness can be lonely, especially when the people around you don’t get it. That’s why support groups, patient forums, and good old-fashioned friendships with fellow spoonies can be lifelines. Sometimes, hearing someone else say, “Me too,” is the most healing thing of all.

This month and every month, you’re not just allowed to take care of your mental health—you’re entitled to it. And if all you did today was survive, that counts. That’s enough. That’s badass.