It started when my brain gave out on me in algebra class one January day in 2022. I couldn’t figure out a simple math problem; all I saw were numbers and symbols. My eyelids drooped, my head hurt, I could barely stay awake. Something wasn’t right.
I hadn’t felt like myself since getting COVID-19 a couple weeks earlier. Simple tasks like reading a text or standing up were draining. But what happened in that classroom scared me. At age 14, my life became a state of constant exhaustion, punctuated by doctors’ visits that, months later, would lead to a Long COVID diagnosis. Still, in those early weeks, I felt determined. I was a high-achieving student athlete always eager to accept a challenge—and I felt confident that I could get past whatever this was quickly.
That didn’t happen. And I had no idea how hard a road lay ahead—or just how dramatically the journey would reshape my perspective, outlook, goals, and relationships.
Two years after that initial episode, I’m 85% recovered. I can handle a full day of school. Brain fog and fatigue only reappear during intense projects or when I’m sick. I’ve also discovered a lot about myself, about invisible illness, and about the importance of friends and loved ones—lessons that can help anyone in the midst of a life-changing illness, as well as anyone wanting to offer help.
Here’s what I’ve learned.
Letting go is not failure
I used to be a person who pushed myself academically, athletically, and personally. But with Long COVID, that only made me sicker. I knew I had to move in the opposite direction. I dropped half my classes, which felt like losing half of myself. But reducing my workload gave my body the bandwidth to heal. I hadn’t given up on life. I had simply changed my focus in order to find a new way forward. With chronic illness, slowing down isn’t quitting—it’s survival.
Small victories matter
When you’re used to dreaming big and racking up achievements, it’s hard to accept that future success might look different. But chronic illness forces you to redefine what a “win” is. For me, it meant trading the goals of straight As and competitive swimming for getting out of bed and attending a couple of classes. With chronic illness, little moments like these become milestones. Celebrate them.
You can’t push through it
Before I got sick, I believed that you could overcome anything with enough effort and discipline. So I attacked my illness with the same attitude, often overexerting myself in an attempt to regain my old life. But chronic illness doesn’t respond to sheer willpower. The more I pushed, the worse I felt. Sometimes, the strongest thing you can do is listen to your body and respect its limits.
Invisible illnesses are isolating
People can have a hard time understanding what they can’t see. And since there was nothing visibly wrong with me, some assumed I wasn’t actually sick but had just given up on them. Friends stopped inviting me out. Teachers thought I had quit caring about schoolwork. The isolation I felt was one of the most difficult challenges of having Long COVID. Those who reached out and supported me have become some of my most treasured friends.
Read More: The Relentless Cost of Chronic Disease
Healing isn’t linear
The trajectory for many illnesses is to get sick, get rest, get better. But chronic illness isn’t that simple. Some days I began at 50% strength, others at 10%, and I never knew where the roller coaster would take me. The energy I felt one hour might evaporate the next. At first, my teachers and friends didn’t understand the sudden shifts. Of course, neither did I. But a low-energy day isn’t the same as not trying. It’s just part of the healing process.
Relapse anxiety can be paralyzing
Even as some of my physical symptoms started to fade, I was always on high alert for a possible relapse. Every time I pushed myself a little harder, I worried that I’d end up back where I started. That fear held me back from fully re-engaging with school and activities I once loved. It was helpful to remind myself that I didn’t have to return to “normal” all at once—small, gradual progress was enough.
It can make you mentally stronger
Chronic illness changes you. It forces you to slow down, rethink what success looks like, and find new ways of measuring progress. At the same time, it opens up windows into yourself and the world around you.
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And what I’ve discovered is a new kind of internal strength and a new sense of self. I still pursue goals, but now they’re more personal, more purposeful. I feel more grounded in values that are authentically my own, and not based on what society expects of me. I’ve learned how to find meaning even in the face of limitations.
I’ve also developed a deeper empathy for those struggling with their own chronic illnesses. Listening without judgment, offering patience rather than pressure, and showing support without conditions: These kindnesses were key to my recovery, and they’re essential for anyone living in the darkness of chronic illness. Thanks to the examples of others, I’m now well-equipped to help those in need—and eager to repay the favor.
