“But You Don’t Look Sick!”

I suffer from chronic fatigue syndrome, endometriosis, fibro, and IBS.

On top of these three ‘invisible’ illnesses, I also suffer from two mental illnesses: clinical depression and a severe anxiety disorder (brought on by a traumatic experience).

As a result, I constantly hear the words:

“But you don’t look sick.”

Sometimes I’m sure it’s meant as an accusation.

Which, in case you think I’m being paranoid, is actually true.

If you’ve ever read my post, Some Girls Are, you’ll be well aware of the fact that I actually had some supposedly “close” friends abandon me soon after I fell ill.

For some people, I guess, it’s only okay to be ill for so long, otherwise you’re labelled as a “drama queen”.

“But you don’t look sick.”

Sometimes those that utter this phrase truly believe it’s a compliment. They’re my friends and my family members and I guess they want me to feel normal, reassure me that I look normal.

I guess they want to make me feel like I’m okay, which is kind and sweet.

And while it’s nice in many ways, but it implies that being sick means you need to have a certain look to be sick, which brings me to the third group of people who utter this statement:

Those that are generally perplexed to hear that I am ill, because I simply don’t look it.




This is what it looks like to suffer from depression. It’s not always constant, can’t get out of bed, overwhelming sadness.

Sometimes depression comes with smiles, make-up, and pretty dresses, that help to mask the truth.




This is what someone with a severe anxiety disorder looks like.

I panicked about the flight, about going to a new place, about my friend’s wedding, about everything.

But no one sees that inner turmoil. They see the smiles that cover it, the staged photos, the cute instagram pics and #hashtagblessed.




This is what someone who is chronically ill looks like.

You see this picture on a good day – the days that I’m able to get out of bed. The days that the pain isn’t over-whelming and the fatigue means I haven’t slept for twenty hours a day.

I might not look sick.

But you don’t see the bad days.

You don’t see the days I’m so tired I literally need help moving.

You don’t see the pain that takes over my body.

You don’t see the depressive episodes and the anxiety attacks.

And that’s okay.

I don’t want you to see it.

But it also doesn’t mean I’m not sick, and we need to stop assuming that appearances mean everything.


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Twitter: @carlalouise01

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