5 Things not to do for your friend with Chronic Illness

For those of you who’ve been around from the beginning, do you remember how I disappeared from your life? Do you remember how, at so many parties you asked, “Where’s Kari?” Do you remember how vital and everywhere I was one year, and how I’d disappeared the next? That's Invisible Illness. Because not only is the illness itself invisible, but you become invisible when it takes over. You go missing from your friends’ lives. You disappear.

And in that disappearance, you lose a major source of love and connection.

So do me a favor and think for a second: Who do you know who has disappeared lately? Who’s gone missing from your life? Grab a pen and paper, and write their name down. Is it a family member? A friend? Who do you never see anymore, and kinda wonder about? Whose name do you use now, when you ask, “Where’s Kari?”

These are the people I’m on earth to help.

And yet, I can't help everyone. So today, I’m enlisting you.

Think again about your friend who disappeared, and let me explain to you why they've done so. He’s ashamed of himself for being weak. She’s scared. He feels like he’s going crazy. She’s lost, and frustrated, and can’t think straight. He can barely get himself to work. She’s in a constant fog. He doesn't know what he did to bring this on. She doesn’t dare consider whether she has any hope left. Failure is not an option. Failure is happening.

…and that’s 11 months out of the year. Now, think about your own life this time of year—Christmas & the hullabaloo, & how it makes everything a little bit more stressful. This missing friend of yours, this friend who's at the end of her rope on a good day? She needs you. Now. But she needs a very specific thing from you. The normal things you would do to tell someone you love them this time of year would be too much for this person.

I’m going to give you the recipe for how you can help this friend of yours who’s gone missing. How you can help them actually make it to January with a little piece of themselves still intact.
 

But first the Don’ts:

  1. Don’t ask “can I do anything to help?” (they don’t know what you’re willing to do).
  2. Don’t say “we miss you!” (it only reinforces how bad they feel about disappearing).
  3. Don’t invite them out (they don’t have the energy).
  4. Don’t invite yourself over (ditto).
  5. Don’t offer them advice (they’re swimming in too much advice already).

Now the Do’s:

  1. Call them up and say “Hey, I made a huge pot of chili, and there’s no room in my freezer for leftovers, can I drop off a Tupperware full on my way to my meeting tonight?” (lie if you have to)
  2. And when they say yes, make the damn chili and bring it over. And when you get to their house, drop it off at the door, wish them a Merry Christmas, and go. Don’t be invited in unless they insist; and don’t stay long if they do. They love and appreciate you, but they don’t have the energy for you.
  3. Do forward them videos of baby goats in Christmas sweaters. A cat riding a roomba. A bird playing with a paper towel. Anything silly and light that just makes you smile. Anything that lets them know they still exist in your world.
  4. Tell them you’re going to Costco, and ask if there’s anything you can pick up for them.
  5. Tell them you love them.
  6. Tell them that even though you don’t fully understand, you still love them. (Believe me, there are many, many, days they wonder whether this is still true.)
  7. Send them pictures of the trip to the Bahamas you’re going to take together three years from now when they’re back on top.
  8. Send them a picture of everyone at your holiday party, toasting their recovery.
  9. And if you’re really brave, tell them you believe in them, and you’ll hold the hope when they can’t find it anymore.
  10. And then do that. They will feel it.

Now, some of you are gonna recognize this list, because you did these things for me, and I swear on all that’s holy, it kept me alive. So I know you’ve got it in you. Look around: who’s missing? Choose one of these things and do it for your missing friend this week.

And if you can think of no other way to tell them you love them, forward this email to them. Just knowing they’re not the only one to go through this helps more than you can imagine.

And have a Merry Christmas, A Happy Everything. Be well. It gets better. I love you.

~K

P.S. …And if, by chance, the missing person is you, send this email to everyone you know, and tell them: “THIS. This is where I’ve gone. Invisible Illness took me away. And I will get out of it, eventually. Meanwhile, chili’s nice, but I prefer mac-and-cheese.” ;)

...And then join my Invisible Illness Facebook community. You're not alone.