Part Two of the “Through Their Eyes” Series
When I sent questionnaires to family and friends, I expected the responses to be different. After all, everyone has walked this journey alongside me in their own way.
Steph’s response was long and thoughtful, full of observations and reflections. My mother’s response was different.
Shorter.
Simpler.
But somehow, no less powerful.
Because while friends witness your struggles, mothers feel them.
Her First Reaction
Her first reaction to my diagnoses?
One word:
“Shocked.”
She had never heard of Myasthenia Gravis. She wasn’t familiar with Crohn’s disease. Like so many family members of people with chronic illnesses, she was suddenly thrown into a world of medical terminology, treatment plans, specialists, and uncertainty.
And beneath all of that uncertainty was one fear:
Disability. Confinement.
As children, we spend our lives believing our parents can fix almost anything. A scraped knee, a broken heart, a bad day at school—there’s comfort in knowing Mom is only a phone call away.
But chronic illness changes that dynamic.
Because no matter how much our parents love us, there are some battles they cannot fight for us.
The Moment It Became Real
When asked when she realized my health challenges were more serious than she originally thought, she answered simply:
“When you were in a lot of pain.”
Not when I received a diagnosis.
Not when doctors ran tests.
Not when specialists entered the picture.
Pain.
Because a mother doesn’t need medical records to know something is wrong with her child.
She described the changes she noticed in me over the years:
- Pain
- Tiredness
- Sometimes irritability
I laughed a little at that last one because if you know me, you know that “sometimes irritable” may be one of the greatest understatements ever written.
Apparently, Crohn’s, Myasthenia Gravis, sleep deprivation, insurance battles, and endless doctor appointments occasionally affect my mood. Who knew?
But beneath the humor was something much deeper.
When asked how my diagnoses had affected our relationship, she wrote:
“Seeing you in pain as your mother hurts me emotionally.”
That sentence stayed with me.
As patients, we spend so much time focused on our own pain that we sometimes forget the people who love us carry a different kind of hurt—the hurt of watching and not being able to fix it.
The Hardest Part of Watching
The hardest part of supporting me, she said, was watching me struggle to get proper treatment.
And the moments that left her feeling most helpless were the moments when she saw me hurting and knew there was nothing she could do to make it better.
I think that helplessness is one of the invisible burdens caregivers and family members carry.
Because while chronic illness affects the patient physically, it affects the people who love us emotionally.
One of the things that stood out to me most was her answer about what people don’t understand about invisible illness:
“They don’t understand the daily struggle of just living with it.”
Not the hospital visits.
Not the medications.
Not the diagnoses.
Just living with it.
Getting out of bed.
Going to work.
Making dinner.
Answering texts.
Smiling when you’re exhausted.
Doing ordinary things with an extraordinary amount of effort.
What She Sees in Me
When asked what strengths she has seen in me throughout this journey, my mom said something that surprised me:
“You have learned to stand up to the doctors and tell them what you need and what you want from them.”
That answer made me pause.
Because there was a time when I accepted every dismissal, every “your labs look fine,” and every explanation that didn’t quite fit. Chronic illness has forced me to become my own advocate, even on the days when I would rather let someone else take the lead.
And apparently, my mother noticed.
She also said that she believes I have allowed myself to be vulnerable while still trying to remain strong for everyone else:
“A little bit of both.”
Honestly, that might be one of the most accurate descriptions anyone has given me.
Because there have been days when I have cried in frustration and days when I have put on a brave face because life still needed me to show up.
Rent still had to be paid.
Work still had to be done.
People still needed me.
And through it all, my mom said she was proud to watch me continue working while managing chronic illness.
Proud.
Not impressed.
Not surprised.
Proud.
As daughters, we spend our lives hoping our parents will be proud of us. Sometimes, hearing those words means more than we realize.
When asked how my journey has impacted her own outlook on life, she wrote:
“That through struggles you can still grow and thrive.”
And when asked to describe my journey in one word, she chose:
Resilience
Because, in her words:
“You always seem to bounce back.”
The Soundtrack to a Mother’s Love
As I reread my mother’s responses, Boyz II Men’s “A Song for Mama” drifted into my mind. Not because the song mirrors my story exactly, but because it captures something universal about family: the quiet ache of watching someone you love struggle and wishing you could somehow make it better.
Parents spend years protecting us from scraped knees, broken hearts, and life’s disappointments. Chronic illness introduces something far more difficult—moments they cannot fix, no matter how badly they want to.
And perhaps that is one of the hardest lessons for both parent and child to learn.
A Message from My Mother
Finally, my mother offered a message to readers of The Dual Diagnosis Diaries:
“Don’t judge a book by its cover.”
Simple.
Direct.
True.
Because invisible illnesses rarely look the way people expect them to look.
You can be smiling and struggling.
Working and exhausted.
Laughing and hurting.
Thriving and surviving all at the same time.
And maybe that is what this series is teaching me.
Steph saw courage.
My mother sees resilience.
Both are right.
But what strikes me most is that the people who love us often recognize strengths in us long before we see them ourselves.
And perhaps that is one of the greatest gifts they give us.
💜 Thank you, Mom, for reminding me that resilience isn’t about never falling—it’s about finding a way to keep getting back up.
💜 Thank you for taking the time to read this entry from The Dual Diagnosis Diaries.
If this story resonated with you, taught you something new, or reminded you that you’re not alone, please consider liking, subscribing, and sharing this diary entry. Your support helps raise awareness about Crohn’s Disease, Myasthenia Gravis, polyautoimmunity, and the realities of living with invisible illnesses.
Together, we can educate, advocate, and remind others that no one has to navigate chronic illness alone.
Founder • Author • Advocate • Future Wellness Coach
Kia Lorice
The Dual Diagnosis Diaries 💜
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