rosie abigail

In a post-COVID world (whatever that may be…), resilience is a buzzword. “The Secret to Building Resilience”, “Generation COVID and Their Resilience”, “Top Ten Tips to Build Resilience” – if you flip open any magazine, from fashion to psychology, you are bound to find articles like these amongst the pages.

This buzzword has even infiltrated the world of employment, with resilience workshops being a commonplace filler for legitimate mental health support.

Depending on which discipline you ask, resilience comes with a few definitions. A swift Google search shows you that Oxford Languages defines resilience as “the capacity to withstand or to recover quickly from difficulties” or “toughness”. But I like the American Psychological Association’s definition (even if they spell ‘behavioural’ wrong) – 

“Resilience is the process and outcome of successfully adapting to difficult or challenging life experiences, especially through mental, emotional, and behavioral flexibility and adjustment to external and internal demands.”

Simply put, it’s all about toughing it out. Picking yourself back up. Adapting when the world throws you a curveball.

Recently, I came back from work after three weeks of severe sickness and hospitalisation – and ended up with another chronic illness to add to the pile. I was advised to attend one of the centralised employment resilience workshops. Immediately, my brain went “huh – I don’t think I’m the right audience for that workshop.” Why, I might hear you say? Well, chronically ill people are the most resilient folks out there.

“If we can deal with awful, painful, distressing, or life-threatening situations on the norm, then eh, we can deal with some discomfort.”

Now, I can only talk about my own experiences – that’s what being a blogger is all about – but I’ve noticed something within my circle of chronically ill buds. We have a similar attitude to someone living with both a life-threatening allergy and a light intolerance. Exhibit A – “Eh, cheese doesn’t hurt or kill me like peanuts do, so I can have a slice of pizza!” If we can deal with awful, painful, distressing, or life-threatening situations on the norm, then eh, we can deal with some discomfort.

For example, I’ve had a pretty rough few months of it. “It” being life in general. I got diagnosed with suspected endometriosis after experiencing the worst pain of my life and ending up in hospital. After that took a back seat, I picked up a really bad cold that didn’t shift. Then, I got COVID. And then a chest infection. It’s been an interesting autumn to say the least. 

In the days that followed I would be coughing up my lungs and my inner voice would chime in with “thank goodness it’s not an asthma attack – now that would be unpleasant.” Popping paracetamol to keep those sweats away and I would think “it’s a nice change to not be taking codeine, isn’t it?”

I had every COVID symptom you could think of over an eight day period – and I worked my usual hours of employment. I didn’t have to – my place of work has a really wonderful sickness policy – and they asked me to work from home so I didn’t spread it around the office. But my chronically ill body, brain, and soul thought “if I’ve got to be unwell, I’m glad it’s this and not something worse. Oh well, let’s crack on.”

Why did every aspect of me think this? Well, when I have an asthma attack, I can’t breathe. When I have an endo flare up, I can’t move. When I have an anxiety attack, my brain stops functioning as it should. Heck, even on a normal day I am in pain. So a cold? COVID? As long as my clogged, asthmatic lungs don’t get touched, I can handle it. 

This isn’t a flex, by the way. One of my serious pet peeves is folks saying “they’ve never taken a sick day in their life” like it’s a badge of honour, like they are better than everyone else. It makes me grimace to even think of it. What I’m trying to say is damn, chronically ill people are as resilient as you can be. That deserves to be our stereotype. Not that we are always taking sick leave or over-reacting. Not that we are a burden or taking up doctor’s time. We wake up in the morning and have to be resilient. There’s no off-switch. Phone, wallet, keys, medication, resilience, and then out the door. 

What I’m trying to say is damn, chronically ill people are as resilient as you can be. That deserves to be our stereotype.

So if someone you know has a chronic illness, pause. Don’t jump straight in with “maybe you should work on your resilience”. Most spoonies have more resilience in their little finger than most able-bodied people will have to endure. So don’t offer a workshop. Don’t offer a “positive mindset” course. For the love of God, don’t say “you need to be stronger”. 

We don’t need any more resilience. We’ve got enough, seriously. Maybe I’ve even enough for me to start my own paid-for resilience workshops. What we need is support and understanding; a no judgement environment; and for the Tories to get out of power so the NHS will survive. It’s not much to ask for. 

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Disclaimer: I know COVID can cause loss of life and affects everyone differently. Also every chronically ill person functions differently; this post is just my thoughts.

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