Cancer

I think a lot of us here really don’t give ourselves enough credit, myself included, more often than I’d like to admit.

Whether you’re dealing with mental health struggles, physical illness, or both, it goes without saying that these things actively affect your day-to-day life. But where do you draw the line between being unmotivated and just being overwhelmed? Between being lazy and being burnt out by something no one else can see?

For me, it’s taken a long time to become as productive as I am now, and I’m still fighting my demons daily. The only reason I’ve been able to keep going is because of everything I’ve been through, and a few outside motivators who remind me why I’m doing this.

Still, I find myself comparing my progress to people who aren’t dealing with the same things I am. People with different bodies, different brains, different realities. People who wake up every morning without chronic pain, without anxiety spirals, without trauma flashbacks. People who move through life without needing to convince themselves to get out of bed.

And we can’t do that to ourselves.

Holding yourself to the “average” standard when you’re living through an unaverage life? That’s not just unkind. It’s destructive.

I’ve said this before, maybe on here, maybe in one of my poems, but we were each given our own sets of eyes, our own brains, and our own hearts, to see, process, and feel the world around us, including our struggles. So of course we’ll process it differently. Of course it’ll take more effort. Of course our wins might look different.

But if you’re still here, still fighting, still building the life you should have had all along, you’re already winning. Every single day you try, you succeed in a way most people will never understand.

If you’re depressed, you can’t expect yourself to accomplish everything in a day that someone without depression can. And if they were suddenly dropped into your world? Into your body, your pain, your noise? They’d likely be in the same boat you are. Maybe worse.

If you’re someone living with chronic illness, fibromyalgia, endometriosis, cancer, autoimmune conditions, you can’t hold yourself to the same productivity standards as someone who isn’t in constant pain. The truth is, many of those people you’re comparing yourself to? They might not last a week in your shoes. But here you are, still moving. Still loving. Still showing up, even when it hurts.

You’re not sinking. You’re swimming through something most people will never even have to wade through.

My partner suffers from fibromyalgia, endometriosis, and depression. All while being a mom. And I’ve watched her do an incredible job not letting any of her pain show. You’d never know how much she’s battling behind the scenes. She never takes it out on others, not even when I’ve joked too much or said something I shouldn’t have. She loves unconditionally. She supports everyone around her.

And as a mom? She’s the best I’ve ever seen. No bias, I thought that before I ever fell in love with her. Even she compares herself to others sometimes. Even she wonders if she’s doing enough. Meanwhile, she’s doing more than most people could even imagine with her health conditions, never mind without them.

She’s my hero, and I’m writing this for her. But I’m also writing it for you.

You might not see it, but someone out there thinks you’re their hero too. Someone out there sees the strength you don’t acknowledge in yourself. So give yourself more credit. You’re not falling behind, you’re carrying more weight than most people ever will, and you’re still walking.

You are not lazy. You are not weak. You are not failing.

You are going above and beyond with the cards you were dealt. You are doing more than the best you can. And it counts.

Be kind to others, but remember to stop to be kind to yourself too, even if it’s just for a moment.

#MentalHealth #PTSD #Cancer #Fibromyalgia #Endometriosis #Depression

By Linda Athanasiadou

During cancer treatment, not all days are created equal. Some are swallowed by fatigue, nausea, or emotional heaviness. But then—sometimes without warning—a good day comes. Maybe your body feels lighter. Maybe your mind is clearer. Maybe, for a few precious hours, you feel like yourself again. Those days are gifts. And over time, I learned how to make the most of them, without pressure or guilt.

At first, I felt this strange urgency to “use” my good days productively. I’d make long to-do lists, try to clean the house, answer every message, and catch up on work. But more often than not, I’d end the day exhausted, frustrated, and with a sense that I’d wasted something rare. I eventually realized that “making the most” of a good day doesn’t mean doing everything. It means doing something that truly nourishes you.

Some days that meant going outside and letting the sun touch my skin. Other times it meant meeting a friend for coffee or cooking a meal that made me feel human again. Sometimes it was as simple as putting on real clothes, taking a slow walk, or listening to music that made me cry in a good way. It wasn’t about achieving. It was about reconnecting—with joy, with presence, with a piece of life outside illness.

What helped most was letting go of the idea that I had to earn joy. That I had to “deserve” rest, laughter, or even distraction. Cancer has a way of making life feel like it's on pause, but good days reminded me that life was still happening—and I had permission to experience it.

I also found it helpful to stay flexible. A good morning didn’t always mean a good afternoon. I learned to adjust without disappointment. Planning something small, with room for rest, helped me feel in control without pushing myself too hard. And if the day stayed good from start to finish? That felt like a little miracle.

Good days during treatment are a kind of medicine too. They restore your spirit, not just your body. They give you hope and remind you that you’re more than a patient. You’re still you.

No matter what your good day looks like, make space for it. Savor it. Let it carry you a little further on the hard days that follow. That’s not just surviving—that’s living.

Hi, my name is Eddylovbug.

#MightyTogether #Anxiety #Depression #BipolarDisorder #BorderlinePersonalityDisorder #Migraine #Fibromyalgia #PTSD #AutismSpectrumDisorder #ADHD #RheumatoidArthritis #MultipleSclerosis #crohn'sDisease #EatingDisorder #OCD #Grief #alpha-1AntitrypsinDeficiency #Cancer

Words Not To Say To The Ones Struggling

Content warning: This piece discusses emotional abuse, invalidation, and harmful language.

I am not a licensed therapist or a journalist. I’m just someone who has lived through trauma, been on the receiving end of these words, and knows how deeply they can cut. My hope in writing this is not to condemn everyone who’s ever said something wrong, but to shed light on how easily well-meaning words can turn into lasting scars, and to help us all do better.

Before I begin, I want to preface this by saying, I’m not some journalist who’s done a bunch of research on this topic. I’m not someone who knows a few people who’ve been through similar things, yada yada. I’m someone who’s lived through this. I’ve heard these things firsthand and know how awful words can be.

Just because words can hurt you doesn’t mean you’re sensitive, and just because you’re sensitive doesn’t mean you’re weaker than someone who doesn’t flinch. Those people who never flinch? I’d hate to be them.

“Other People Have It Worse.”

A phrase I’ve written poems about. A phrase said by the abused and the abuser, the mistreated and the ones who mistreat. As if pain can be compared. As if suffering has a scoreboard.

These five words? They’re like throwing acid on a burn victim.

I bet some of you have even had your pain compared to world hunger, terrorism, or human trafficking. You know… like that’s helpful.

But a battle is a battle.

Wounds of any size or shape still bleed.

We were each given our own eyes to see this world and our own minds to process what we’re seeing. Imagine going through life believing your problems are too small to matter, that no one will care. That belief alone can break a person.

“Are You Just Going to Keep Playing the Victim?”

This one hit me hard. It’s one of the ones I heard the most growing up.

As if being a victim is some role you chose in a movie. As if you can just rip the pages of misery out of your book like they never happened.

The people who use this phrase? They’re either hardened by their own battles, raised without empathy, or they’re the ones out there creating victims.

Even as a joke, these words hurt. Be careful what you say.

Being a victim isn’t a choice. But here’s something beautiful, if you’re like me, and you were a victim… notice that? I said were. Because “victim” is not your name. It’s not your identity. It’s a skin you can shed.

Think of it as a cocoon. And yeah, technically a few types of insects come out of those, but for the sake of this article? Let’s go with butterfly.

“It Could Be Worse.”

I’ll keep this one short. It’s a cousin to the first phrase, and just as harmful. It’s another way of telling someone, “Your pain doesn’t matter enough.”

Once again, it’s judgment from the outside with zero understanding of what’s going on inside. What might be nothing to you could be everything to someone else.

“We All Have Problems.”

Sure, we do. Every single one of us.

And some people’s problem is refusing to admit that everyone’s pain is valid.

Feelings aren’t measured in units. They’re part of being human.

It doesn’t matter your gender, race, background, or story, pain is still pain. And no two problems are alike. So stop pretending they’re supposed to be.

“Everything Happens for a Reason.”

Another classic. You’ve heard it. I’ve heard it. I even centered another piece of writing around this one.

Here’s my truth:

No, not everything happens for a reason. But that doesn’t mean we can’t make one.

There’s no reason your mom had to die of cancer. No reason you got into that accident. No reason you lost your job.

But you’re here. And you can take that pain and create reason.

You can give the meaningless meaning.

There was no good reason for the abuse I endured, but I’ve used it. As fuel. As drive. As something that now powers the words I write for people like me… and maybe like you.

Because someday? Just maybe? We’ll be so educated, so connected, so aware, that things like this won’t happen anymore. And if not, well… I’ll keep writing. I’ll keep speaking. I’ll do my part to make sure there’s media out there for the ones who need it.

“You Just Need to Stay Positive.”

People out here really acting like moods are optional.

Like you can wake up and choose them like you choose your socks.

Yeah, sure. Try telling someone with depression to just “stay positive.”

Try telling someone who lost their mom, got dumped, or can’t get out of bed.

It might be said with good intentions, but it still invalidates.

And yeah, I’m sarcastic about this one. Not sorry. Sometimes sarcasm is all you’ve got when people are trying to slap a smiley face over your grief.

“Man Up.”

Another phrase that gets sarcasm instead of wisdom.

As if being a “man” is the standard for strength and emotional resilience.

This phrase isn’t just sexist, it’s toxic for everyone.

It shames men for feeling. It tells women their softness makes them weak. It erases nonbinary people entirely. I’ve heard this phrase my whole life. And only recently have I begun to unlearn it.

Now? I feel things. And I’m proud of that.

“This Will Pass.” (When Said Right)

This one’s not inherently bad. In fact, it can be comforting, if you say it the right way.

If someone’s going through a tough season, don’t just throw out “This will pass” like a dismissive shrug. Add the humanity to it.

Say something like:

“I know what you’re feeling. I know it hurts, and I know how overwhelming it is. But this pain? It’s temporary. It won’t last forever. You’ll get through it, and I’ll be here if you need someone to walk with you.”

That’s how you use words. Not as a patch, but as a hand to hold.

Final Thoughts

The point of this article wasn’t to list every harmful phrase in existence. It was to offer enough examples that if you’re someone who’s struggling, or has struggled, you’ll recognize that the things you’ve been told aren’t your truth.

And if you’re someone who struggles with empathy? Maybe you’re not reading this.

But if you are, maybe it means you want to do better.

So do it.

Words aren’t just words.

They’re how we express what we feel, and how we show others what they mean to us.

Use them wisely. Use them kindly.

And above all, use them to heal.

#MentalHealth #Grief