When Pain Makes You the Villain: The Unspoken Cost of Chronic Illness

The past couple of days, I experienced one of the worst episodes I’ve had in a long time. The pain from my cranio-cervical instability hit so hard it brought me to my knees—vomiting, pounding headache, dizziness, the whole brutal cascade. And in the midst of it, someone I love looked at me and said, “You probably overdosed on meds.”

I get it. To them, it’s just a comment. Maybe concern poorly worded. Maybe fear. But to those of us living with rare and misunderstood disorders, it cuts deep. Because we hear it too often—phrased a dozen different ways—but it always sends the same message: “I don’t believe you. I think you’re doing this to yourself.”

That’s why so many of us hesitate to go to doctors. That’s why we suffer in silence. Because when your friends, family, or even clinicians hint that you’re exaggerating, attention-seeking, or misusing meds, it makes you feel like a villain for trying to survive your own body.

I didn’t “overdose.” I followed my pain plan. I used every coping strategy I know. And still, my body betrayed me.

This isn’t about pity—it’s about respect. About believing patients. About unlearning the stigma that surrounds invisible illnesses, rare disorders, and the people who fight them every day.

We are not our meds. We are not our symptoms. We are not your assumptions.

We are trying. Always.