Last night, I attended a Matchbox 20 concert at Jiffy Lube Live, an event that had been on my calendar since before the pandemic. The anticipation was high, but so was my pain. A sudden flare of chronic pain, the severity of which I hadn’t experienced in months, hit me just hours before the show. The unpredictability of disability and chronic pain is a constant reminder that it's always with us, even during our most anticipated moments.
As Brijana Prooker beautifully articulated in her POPSUGAR essay, living with an invisible illness often involves a performance of wellness. We mask our pain with smiles, energetic demeanors, and a relentless positivity that hides our suffering. We do this to make others comfortable, to fit into societal expectations of health and normalcy. But at what cost?
For years, I too performed wellness. I hid my pain behind an energetic bubbly persona, concealing my struggle from the world. But as Brijana points out, this performance can lead to further harm. "While I may have succeeded in looking healthy, it had only made me sicker," she writes. The energy we expend to appear "well" can exacerbate our conditions, leading to more pain, more fatigue, and a deeper sense of isolation.
The pressure to appear healthy extends to our social interactions. We extend visits beyond our limits, pushing through the pain to avoid disappointing others. We hide our needs, our pain, and our limitations, often at great personal cost. As Brijana explains, a casual hangout can cost us "days, possibly weeks in bed — and so many spoons, we'd have to wait until next month for them to replenish."
But it's time to break free from this cycle. It's time to prioritize our health over societal expectations and other people's comfort. It's time to make our invisible disabilities visible, to share our experiences openly and honestly. It's time to stop performing wellness and start living our truth.
As we near the end of Disability Pride Month, let's remember that our worth isn't determined by our appearance or wellness. Our worth lies in our resilience, our strength, and our ability to navigate a world that often overlooks us. Our worth lies in our authenticity, in our courage to share our stories, and in our determination to advocate for a more inclusive and understanding world.
I Spent Years Trying to Hide My Chronic Illness For Others' Comfort. No More.