When Cancer Gets Casseroles (But Chronic Pain Gets Crickets)

Why stigma around invisible illness leaves us unsupported—and how to hold space for ourselves anyway

Cancer Gets Casseroles. Chronic Pain Gets Crickets.

When I was diagnosed with cancer at 27, something wild happened:

People showed up.

Friends. Family. That girl from high school I hadn’t talked to in a decade.

Suddenly, I was on prayer lists. My inbox blew up. My fridge filled with casseroles. Offers of help poured in like it was a job fair for kindness.

And I was (and still am) deeply grateful.

People shaved their heads, dropped off meals, and showed up in ways I’ll never forget.

But when I was quietly struggling with chronic pain before that?

Crickets.

No casseroles. No check-ins. No “let me know if you need anything” texts.

Just silence, side-eye, and unsolicited advice.

Because chronic pain—unlike cancer—isn’t the kind of struggle that gets sympathy. 

It’s the kind that gets skepticism.

The Chronic Pain Stigma: “Are You Sure You’re That Sick?”

If you live with fibromyalgia, ME/CFS, or another invisible illness, you know the drill:

• You say you’re in pain → they say, “But you don’t look sick.”

• You cancel plans (again) → they assume you’re flaky.

• You explain how exhausted you are → they respond, “Have you tried going gluten free?”

When I had a bald head and a chemo port, no one dared question my struggle.

But chronic pain is invisible. Which means you end up feeling like you have to prove your suffering.

And honestly? That pressure to prove might be worse than the pain some days.

Why People Rally Around Cancer—But Not Chronic Illness

Here’s the hard truth: people understand what they can see.

Cancer has a storyline: diagnosis → treatment → recovery.

It comes with rally cries, hashtags, and bell-ringing ceremonies.

Chronic pain?

It’s messy. Ongoing. Hard to name. Harder to fix.

There’s no clear arc, no clean ending. And because people don’t know what to say or do—they say and do nothing.

Not out of cruelty.

Out of discomfort. 

Out of not being taught how to show up.

And to be fair?

Before chronic pain, I probably would have done the same.

Compassion Doesn’t Mean Allowing

Most people aren’t trying to dismiss you. They just don’t have the framework.

We’re taught:

• Pain = injury

• Fatigue = laziness

• Illness = temporary

So when you show up with pain that doesn’t fit those rules, it scrambles people’s brains.

That doesn’t mean you have to accept ignorance.

But it does mean you get to choose how you respond:

💡 Compassion doesn’t mean allowing.

You can understand why people struggle to believe you and still hold firm that your experience is real.

You can offer grace and still set boundaries.

You can love people and still refuse to let them make you feel small.

What To Do With the Crickets

I don’t have a casserole cure for chronic pain stigma.

But I do know a few things that help when silence feels louder than support:

• ✋ You don’t owe proof. Your pain is real whether anyone believes it or not.

• 🫶 Find your people. Not everyone will get it—but someone will. Hold onto them.

• 📣 Share when you can. Educate if you have energy. Protect your peace if you don’t.

• 🚧 Keep your boundaries. Compassion ≠ tolerating dismissal.

• 🪞 Care for yourself like others would if your pain were visible. Rest isn’t indulgence—it’s medicine.

A Final Thought (and Maybe a Casserole-Sized Bit of Hope)

Yes, chronic pain comes with stigma.

Yes, people often miss the mark.

But support doesn’t always look like casseroles. Sometimes it’s:

• A quiet check-in.

• A friend who keeps inviting you, even when you say no.

• A message that says, “Thinking of you—no reply needed.”

These small things matter.

And as more of us tell the truth about chronic pain, maybe we’ll build a world where casseroles aren’t reserved for cancer—and crickets aren’t what chronic illness gets in return.

You deserve that world. And you’re helping create it—just by living your truth.

No proof required.

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