Because sometimes “I’m okay” is the easiest answer to a question that deserves a much longer explanation.
There are three little words people ask every day without giving them much thought.
“How are you?”
Simple question, right?
Well, not when you’re living with a chronic illness.
For most people, the answer comes naturally. “I’m good!” “Doing great!” “Can’t complain!”
But for those of us navigating chronic illness, those three little words can trigger an entire internal debate.
Do I tell you the truth?
Do you actually want to know?
Do you have 45 minutes, a comfortable chair, and possibly a snack? Because depending on the day, this answer could get complicated. 😂
And honestly, sometimes I don’t even have the energy to explain it all.
So I smile and say the two words that have become second nature.
“I’m okay.”
Even when I’m anything but okay.
Because sometimes “I’m okay” doesn’t mean I’m feeling okay. It means I don’t have the energy to explain why I’m not.
💜 The Conversation Happening Inside My Head
When someone asks how I’m doing, there’s often an entire conversation happening in my head before I ever open my mouth.
Let’s see…
Am I tired? Absolutely.
Am I in pain? Possibly.
Are my muscles cooperating? Depends on which ones we’re talking about.
Is Crohn’s behaving? She’s unpredictable.
And MG? Well, she’s probably somewhere plotting her next dramatic entrance. 🙄
Remember, I have two autoimmune roommates, and neither one believes in paying rent or respecting boundaries.
But here’s the thing.
Even on days when I’m smiling, laughing, working, running errands, or enjoying life, there may be things happening inside my body that nobody else can see.
Sometimes I’m struggling to breathe.
Sometimes my muscles are so fatigued that something as simple as holding my head up becomes exhausting.
Sometimes my digestive system decides we’re going to have a disagreement, and unfortunately, Crohn’s usually gets the final word.
And sometimes I’m just tired.
Not the kind of tired that a good night’s sleep fixes.
I’m talking about the kind of exhaustion that settles into your bones and makes even the simplest tasks feel overwhelming.
Now imagine trying to explain all of that when someone casually asks how your day is going.
Exactly.
“I’m okay” suddenly sounds like a perfectly reasonable answer.
🦋 Looking Fine Doesn’t Mean Feeling Fine
One of the most frustrating realities of living with an invisible illness is that people often judge how you’re feeling by how you look.
If your hair is done, your outfit is cute, and you’re smiling, surely you must be feeling better.
Right?
Wrong.
Let me explain something.
I can put on makeup, fix my hair, throw on a cute outfit, and look like I have my entire life together.
Meanwhile, my immune system is hosting a private event that I was neither invited to nor authorized. 😂
I’ve attended meetings, handled responsibilities, laughed with friends, and carried on conversations while privately struggling with symptoms nobody around me could see.
Sometimes I’m calculating how much energy I have left.
Sometimes I’m concentrating on my breathing.
And sometimes I’m wondering whether my body is going to cooperate long enough for me to finish whatever I’m doing.
But because I’m smiling and functioning, people assume I’m fine.
What they don’t realize is that functioning and feeling well are two entirely different things.
Looking presentable doesn’t mean my symptoms have disappeared.
Smiling doesn’t mean I’m pain-free.
Laughing doesn’t mean I’m not exhausted.
And having a good day doesn’t mean I’m cured.
💜 “You can see my smile, but you cannot always see the strength it took to put it there.”
That’s the reality of invisible illness.
What you see on the outside doesn’t always reflect what’s happening on the inside.
💜 Sometimes the Truth Takes Too Much Energy
There are days when I genuinely want to tell someone how I’m feeling.
But then I start thinking about everything that comes with being honest.
The explanations.
The follow-up questions.
The unsolicited advice.
The inevitable suggestion that I should try drinking more water, getting more sleep, changing my diet, or taking some miracle supplement somebody saw on Facebook.
Because apparently, after years of specialists, treatments, procedures, and medications, all I needed was lemon water and positive thinking.
Who knew? 🙄😂
And don’t misunderstand me.
I know most people mean well.
But sometimes explaining chronic illness becomes another exhausting task added to an already exhausting day.
And sometimes the hardest part isn’t even admitting that I’m struggling.
It’s watching someone else’s expression change when I tell them the truth.
Suddenly, I’m the one reassuring them.
I’m the one saying, “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.”
I’m the one trying to make them feel better about something happening to me.
And somehow, a conversation about how I’m feeling becomes another situation where I’m responsible for making someone else feel comfortable.
That’s exhausting in a way I don’t think people always recognize.
There are days when I don’t want to educate, explain, or reassure.
Sometimes I just want to be heard.
And sometimes I don’t even want to talk about it.
I simply want the freedom to have a difficult day without turning it into a conversation that requires more energy than I have available.
🌻 The Pressure to Always Be Strong
Here’s something else I’ve learned.
When you’ve been living with chronic illness for years, people become accustomed to seeing you push through.
They see you working.
They see you traveling.
They see you laughing with family and friends.
They see you showing up for everyone else.
And eventually, your ability to keep going becomes the expectation.
But just because I’ve learned how to function while struggling doesn’t mean the struggle has become easier.
Sometimes being strong is exhausting.
Sometimes being resilient feels less like a personality trait and more like a job I never applied for.
And sometimes I wish I could answer “How are you?” with:
“I’m having a really difficult day.”
Without feeling like I need to follow it up with:
“But I’ll be fine.”
Because why do we do that?
Why do we feel the need to soften our struggles so other people won’t feel uncomfortable?
Why do we reassure everyone else when we’re the ones having a hard time?
I’ve spent so much of my life learning how to keep going that I’m still learning how to give myself permission to say:
“Today is not a good day, and that’s okay.”
Not every difficult day needs a positive spin.
Not every struggle needs a motivational speech.
And not every moment requires me to put on my superhero cape and pretend I have everything under control.
Sometimes I just need to take the cape off, sit down, and acknowledge that I’m tired.
And that doesn’t make me weak.
It makes me human.
🦋 What I Wish People Understood
I don’t expect everyone to understand what living with Crohn’s Disease and MG feels like.
Truthfully, there are days when I don’t understand what my own body is doing.
And I’ve been living in it my entire life! 😂
But understanding every symptom isn’t necessary to show compassion.
Sometimes all someone needs is patience.
Sometimes they need you to listen without trying to fix anything.
Sometimes they need you to understand that canceling plans isn’t personal.
Sometimes they need you to recognize that yesterday’s energy doesn’t guarantee today’s abilities.
And sometimes they just need you to accept their answer without questioning whether they really look sick.
Because chronic illness doesn’t always announce itself.
There isn’t always a visible sign.
There isn’t always a warning.
And there certainly isn’t a schedule.
One day, I may have enough energy to conquer the world.
The next day, getting out of bed may feel like climbing Mount Everest.
Both versions of me are real.
Both deserve understanding.
And neither should have to compete for compassion.
💜 When “How Are You?” Becomes an Opportunity for Compassion
I don’t want people to stop asking how I’m doing.
Actually, quite the opposite.
I appreciate being asked.
I appreciate knowing someone cares enough to check in.
But I hope we can begin treating those three little words as more than a casual greeting.
If someone says they’re struggling, give them room to be honest.
If they don’t have the words, give them patience.
If they don’t want to talk, respect that too.
And if they say they’re okay, understand that sometimes those words simply mean:
“I’m doing the best I can with what I have today.”
You don’t have to solve the problem.
You don’t have to offer advice.
You don’t even have to understand everything.
Sometimes the most meaningful response is simply:
“I’m here if you need me.”
And then actually being there.
Because compassion isn’t always about knowing what to say.
Sometimes it’s about knowing when to listen.
🌻 Giving Myself Permission to Be Honest
Living with Crohn’s and MG has taught me many lessons, but one I’m still working on is allowing myself to be honest about how I’m feeling without apologizing for it.
For years, I’ve become so accustomed to pushing through that sometimes I forget I’m allowed to stop.
I’m allowed to acknowledge that something hurts.
I’m allowed to admit that I’m exhausted.
I’m allowed to say that I’m struggling.
And I’m allowed to do all of that without feeling guilty.
Some days, the answer really is “I’m good!”
Other days, it’s “I’ve been better.”
And on particularly difficult days, it might simply be:
“Girl, these two roommates are acting up, and I’m just trying to survive until bedtime.” 😂
All three answers are valid.
Because my journey isn’t about pretending chronic illness doesn’t affect me.
It’s about learning how to live a meaningful, joyful, and authentic life while acknowledging the challenges that come with it.
I can be grateful for my life and still have difficult days.
I can be resilient and still need rest.
I can find humor in my circumstances and still acknowledge that some of those circumstances are incredibly hard.
And most importantly, I can be strong without pretending I’m okay every single day.
🎵 Music Playing…
“I Am Light” — India.Arie
A beautiful reminder that we are more than our struggles, our circumstances, and the labels placed upon us.
For those of us living with chronic illness, the message feels especially meaningful.
We are not defined by our diagnoses, our symptoms, or our difficult days.
We are still whole people deserving of love, understanding, joy, and peace.
💭 Reflection Corner
Sometimes the hardest part of living with chronic illness isn’t the symptoms themselves.
It’s trying to explain an experience that other people cannot see, cannot feel, and may never fully understand.
But here’s what I want every chronic illness warrior to remember:
You don’t have to prove that you’re sick to deserve compassion.
You don’t have to justify your exhaustion.
You don’t have to apologize for needing rest.
And you don’t have to pretend you’re okay to make other people comfortable.
Your experience is valid, even when it is invisible.
As for me?
I’m still learning to answer those three little words with a little more honesty and a little less guilt.
And when I say “I’m okay,” sometimes I genuinely mean it.
Other times, it means I’m doing the best I can with the energy I have left.
Either way, I’m still here.
Still learning.
Still laughing.
Still living.
And still doing my best.
One day at a time.
💬 Let’s Talk, Warriors!
When someone asks, “How are you?” do you usually tell them how you’re really feeling, or have you mastered the art of saying “I’m okay” even when you’re not?
Have you ever felt like you needed to reassure someone else after being honest about your own struggles?
I’d love to hear your experiences in the comments.
Your story might help another warrior realize they’re not alone. 💜
💜 Until Next Time, Warriors…
Remember, living with chronic illness doesn’t mean you have to be strong every second of every day.
Some days you’ll thrive.
Some days you’ll struggle.
And some days simply making it through will be your greatest accomplishment.
Every one of those days matters.
Give yourself grace, celebrate the little victories, and remember that your worth isn’t measured by how much you accomplish or how well you hide your struggles.
You are seen. You are heard. Your struggles matter. And you never have to pretend you’re okay to deserve love, understanding, or compassion.
Until next time, keep advocating, keep educating, and most importantly, keep living.
Because we are more than our diagnoses. We are warriors, survivors, and beautifully imperfect humans navigating life one day at a time. 💜🦋
With love, strength, and a little sarcasm,
Kia Lorice 💜
Founder • Author • Advocate • Future Wellness Coach
The Dual Diagnosis Diaries
Living with Crohn’s Disease and Myasthenia Gravis — one day, one treatment, and one lesson at a time.
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