Having a chronic condition is one of the loneliest experiences I’ve ever had. It’s exhausting, both physically and mentally, and often, it feels like your own body is working against you. Everything you’ve built—your health, your relationships, your career aspirations—can come crashing down in an instant, leaving you feeling like you’re starting from zero again.
Navigating a condition is challenging enough, but doing so at university adds an entirely new layer of difficulty.
Last week I was catching up with friends, going to the cinema and going out. I felt energetic and sociable and was genuinely enjoying my lectures. It felt as though the light was shining in through my windows and yet just a couple of days later, the curtains were pulled over. Suddenly, I was waking up at 5 am every morning in seething pain, unable to eat or move out of bed.
This is where the loneliness truly sets in. Having a chronic condition can be incredibly isolating because it often feels like no one really understands. While people may sympathize and say, “That sounds awful,” they’ll never fully grasp what you go through and what you end up sacrificing. You might even hear comments like, “Again? It seems like you’re always ill,” or “There’s always something going on with you,” as if the very definition of ‘chronic’ isn’t that it never goes away. It’s a lifelong battle, and sometimes, it feels like you’re fighting it alone.
Then there’s the guilt. When you’re feeling okay, you make plans—plans to catch up with friends, go to events, or do activities you’ve been looking forward to. Maybe you book concert tickets or organize a party. And then, suddenly, your condition flares up, and you have to cancel. You feel like you’re missing out, and often, people can't comprehend that. They think you’re unreliable or that you don’t put in enough effort. It’s frustrating because, deep down, you wish more than anything that you could just show up. Losing friendships and opportunities over something completely out of your control is not only frustrating, it's heartbreaking. But it’s something you end up having to come to terms with.
Being at university, it's important to have a support system, but this is something that can't always be possible for everyone. If you're unable to move or cook, you can’t exactly ask your flatmates to be your personal chef for a week, and they may not understand why you’re unable to do your dishes or take out the bins. It’s often easy to feel like you’re failing at adulthood, unable to take care of yourself while others seem to manage just fine and that's why it's so important to remember to be kind to yourself, take one day at a time. You're trying your best.
Most of the time, if you asked me to rate my pain on a scale—like they do at the doctor’s office—I’d say 10 without hesitation. And yet, despite that, I’m expected to excel at university, avoid getting fired from my part-time job for taking too many sick days, contribute to group projects even when I physically can’t show up, and still find the time and energy to build friendships and relationships.
So, on behalf of every university student living with a chronic condition: we are exhausted.
There needs to be more discourse around chronic illnesses. In society, pain is treated as something uncomfortable to acknowledge—something people would rather ignore. But the truth is, what’s happening to our bodies isn’t fair, and it isn't easy. The least we can ask for is kindness, understanding and a little slack. Both from other people, but also from ourselves.