Dating with Crohn’s Disease and Myasthenia Gravis
“The right person won’t see my illnesses first. They’ll see me.”
There are some parts of living with chronic illness that we talk about often.
The doctor’s appointments.
The medications.
The hospital stays.
The procedures.
The pain.
The fatigue.
But there are other parts we rarely discuss.
The lonely parts.
The vulnerable parts.
The parts that make us question our worth.
For me, one of those parts has always been dating.
Because dating is complicated enough.
Dating with one autoimmune disease is challenging.
Dating with two?
Sometimes it can feel downright impossible.
Dating Before Crohn’s
Before Crohn’s Disease entered my life, dating felt normal.
Exciting.
Hopeful.
Full of possibilities.
Then everything changed.
When I was diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease, I was four years into a relationship.
He witnessed the entire journey.
The endless doctor’s appointments.
The tests.
The poking and prodding.
The uncertainty.
He was there while I searched for answers.
He saw the physical side of the disease.
What he couldn’t see was everything happening beneath the surface.
The fear.
The grief.
The exhaustion.
The frustration of learning that this wasn’t something I would recover from.
This was something I would live with forever.
As time passed, things began to unravel.
Not because he was a bad person.
Not because he didn’t care.
But because he couldn’t truly understand what I was experiencing.
And honestly, how could he?
How do you explain to someone what is happening inside your body when you look perfectly healthy on the outside?
How do you explain that every meal comes with uncertainty?
That every outing requires knowing where the nearest bathroom is?
That fatigue can hit without warning?
That your body suddenly feels like a stranger?
I was struggling to understand it myself.
When Crohn’s Changes Everything
When people think about Crohn’s Disease, they often think about stomach issues.
What they don’t think about is how much it can affect your confidence.
Suddenly dating becomes a series of explanations.
Why can’t you eat that?
Why do we need to sit near the restroom?
Why are you canceling plans?
Why don’t you feel like going out?
Why are you tired all the time?
At times, it felt easier to stay home than to explain myself.
The medications came with side effects.
The disease came with unpredictability.
And my desire to be social slowly disappeared.
My world became smaller.
And eventually, so did my relationship.
The One I Thought Would Understand
After that relationship ended, I dated a few people here and there, but nothing lasted long enough to matter.
Then came someone different.
Someone I had known most of my life.
Someone who had quietly followed my Crohn’s journey through my Facebook posts.
One day, after a Remicade treatment, we reconnected while spending time with mutual friends.
We talked.
Really talked.
About Crohn’s.
About life.
About everything I had been experiencing.
For the first time, I remember thinking:
“Finally.”
“Someone who sees me.”
“Someone who understands.”
I allowed myself to hope.
To believe.
To imagine what life might look like with someone who already knew my story.
Unfortunately, three months later, it ended.
And with it went much of my confidence in dating.
Not because I stopped wanting companionship.
But because I started believing that maybe chronic illness made relationships harder than they were worth.
Hiding Behind Work
A few years later, I left the Washington, D.C. area and moved across the country to Phoenix, AZ in search of a fresh start.
A chance to find myself.
A chance to create a new life.
Family and friends back home constantly asked if I had met someone.
The answer was always the same.
“No.”
The truth?
Crohn’s Disease had done a number on my self-esteem.
I no longer saw myself the way I once had.
Instead of dating, I buried myself in work.
Work became my excuse.
If I was working 18-hour days, I could tell myself I didn’t have time for relationships.
But looking back, work was also a shield.
A way to avoid rejection.
A way to avoid vulnerability.
A way to avoid finding out whether someone could truly accept all the baggage I believed came with Crohn’s Disease.
The reality was simple.
I wasn’t too busy.
I was scared.
Then MG Entered the Chat
Years later, after another move—this time from Phoenix, AZ to Los Angeles, CA—Myasthenia Gravis entered my life.
And suddenly dating felt even more impossible.
MG brought challenges I never imagined.
💙 Sleep apnea.
💙 A BiPAP machine.
💙 Breathing difficulties.
💙 A paralyzed diaphragm.
💙 Uncontrollable belching.
💙 Vocal cord paralysis.
💙 Muscle weakness affecting my neck, shoulders, and daily activities.
My confidence took another hit.
I remember looking at myself and wondering:
“What man would want to deal with all of this?”
“Who wants to date someone with two autoimmune diseases?”
“Who wants to sleep next to someone connected to a machine every night?”
“Who wants to sign up for doctor’s appointments, medications, treatments, and uncertainty?”
Those thoughts became louder than they should have been.
And if I’m being honest, they became excuses.
Thank You, Steph
My friend Steph never accepted those excuses.
She constantly encouraged me to put myself out there.
She reminded me that I was still worthy of love.
Still worthy of companionship.
Still worthy of being chosen.
She even convinced me to join dating sites.
I had every excuse in the book.
The apps don’t work.
People aren’t genuine.
Nobody understands chronic illness.
I’m too busy.
I’m too tired.
But the truth?
I never really gave it a fair chance.
Because deep down, I was still carrying the scars from dating with Crohn’s Disease.
I was still protecting myself from getting hurt.
Still protecting myself from rejection.
Still protecting myself from disappointment.
The Truth I Finally Learned
Somewhere along this journey, my perspective began to change.
I stopped viewing Crohn’s Disease and Myasthenia Gravis as things that made me less.
I stopped viewing them as obstacles to being loved.
I stopped viewing them as flaws.
Because they aren’t.
They are part of my story.
They are part of my journey.
But they are not my identity.
Crohn’s Disease taught me resilience.
Myasthenia Gravis taught me perseverance.
Together they taught me empathy.
Strength.
Advocacy.
Purpose.
Without them, there would be no The Dual Diagnosis Diaries.
No platform.
No community.
No opportunity to connect with others navigating chronic illness.
No opportunity to remind someone else that they are not alone.
What I Know Now
Today, I understand something I couldn’t see years ago.
The right person won’t see Crohn’s Disease.
The right person won’t see Myasthenia Gravis.
The right person won’t see a BiPAP machine.
The right person won’t see medications or diagnoses.
The right person will see me.
The woman who keeps fighting.
The woman who keeps showing up.
The woman who rebuilt herself more than once.
The woman who refused to quit.
The woman who found purpose in her pain.
And when that person comes along, they won’t be choosing me despite my illnesses.
They’ll be choosing all of me.
Crohn’s.
MG.
BiPAP machine.
Battle scars.
Strength.
Faith.
Purpose.
And everything in between.
Because I am not my diagnoses.
I am the woman who survived them.
And that is worth loving.
Eight years after relocating across the country and eight years after my last serious attempt at a relationship, I am still single.
But I am not closed off.
I am not opposed to finding that special someone who will accept me and all that comes with me—and yes, that includes Crohn’s Disease and Myasthenia Gravis.
For the first time in a long time, I understand that I don’t need someone to rescue me, fix me, or complete me.
I have already done the work of rebuilding myself.
What I hope to find is someone willing to walk beside me.
Someone who sees my diagnoses as only one chapter of my story, not the entire book.
Someone who understands that strength and vulnerability can coexist.
Someone who appreciates not only the woman I am today, but also the journey it took to get here.
While I haven’t met him yet, I believe he is out there somewhere.
And until our paths cross, I will continue living my life.
I will continue advocating.
I will continue sharing my story.
I will continue loving myself.
And I will wait patiently, knowing that the right person won’t be scared away by my journey.
They’ll recognize the strength it took to survive it.
Reflection Corner 💭
For years, I believed chronic illness made me harder to love.
Now I realize it simply revealed who was capable of loving me authentically.
Maybe the greatest lesson wasn’t learning how to date with Crohn’s Disease.
Or learning how to date with Myasthenia Gravis.
Maybe the greatest lesson was learning how to love myself first.
Maybe the greatest lesson was learning that I was worthy of love long before someone else came along to remind me.
Because once you realize your worth isn’t determined by your health, your appearance, your limitations, or your diagnosis, you stop asking:
“Who would want me?”
And you start asking:
“Who is worthy of sharing this life with me?”
That shift changes everything.
💚💙 From the Heart of The Dual Diagnosis Diaries
If you’re living with Crohn’s Disease, Myasthenia Gravis, or any chronic illness and wondering whether someone will ever understand your journey, I want you to know this:
You are not too much.
You are not damaged.
You are not a burden.
You are not difficult to love.
The right people won’t be intimidated by your story.
They will be inspired by your strength.
And until that person arrives, never forget that the most important relationship you will ever have is the one you have with yourself.
Keep loving yourself.
Keep believing in yourself.
And keep showing up for yourself the same way you show up for everyone else.
💚💙 The Dual Diagnosis Diaries
Living with Crohn’s Disease and MuSK Myasthenia Gravis has taught me that our greatest challenges often become our greatest purpose. Through this space, I share the victories, setbacks, lessons, and realities of navigating life with two autoimmune diseases. My hope is simple: that someone reading these words feels seen, understood, and a little less alone.
Until next time, keep fighting, keep advocating, and remember—you are worthy of love exactly as you are.
— Kia Lorice 💚🦋💙
“Two diagnoses. One journey. Countless lessons.” ✨
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