February is the month of love. The world likes to remind me of it every day; emails flooding my inbox of gift ideas from retailers on what to buy that special someone. My social media feeds drown in stories of love and relationships and cliched quotes about romance. But these do not invoke warm feelings or feeling included. Instead, I find myself shrouded by loneliness; dating and my life with chronic illness seem so incompatible. Seeing so many revelling in Valentine’s celebrations is another painful reminder that I am single, still alone. Will anyone love me as I am? Will I ever find love?

Many of us dream of a love story to rival that from our favourite romance; or swept off our feet by a tall, dark stranger straight out of a Nicholas Sparks book. Such affairs, however, appear to be unattainable in the real world. Unfortunately, reality rarely plays out as they do in fiction. And men like those in Nicholas Sparks novels seemingly do not exist.

In truth, dating and the hunt to find love can be immensely challenging for anyone. It is a pursuit that requires you to put yourself out there act confident despite feeling self-conscious and vulnerable whilst trying to show the best possible version of yourself. So imagine how difficult it would be to navigate the dating field while living with the demands of chronic illness.

"Dating can be immensely challenging for anyone. But imagine how difficult it would be to navigate the dating field while living with the demands of chronic illness." Share on X

Dating and Chronic Illness: Does it Make Me Undesirable?

In the world of social media and the abundance of perfect, photoshopped images of what a ‘perfect’ body should look like, every one of us has insecurities about how we look. Whenever we look in a mirror or scrutinise ourselves in a selfie, our flaws and imperfections are immediately apparent. When I look in a mirror, I have never thought of myself as pretty or attractive; in my mind, I can still hear voices calling me ugly or a freak, as if I only heard them yesterday.

As I glance at myself in the mirror, I catch sight of evidence of how illness has changed my appearance. The constant pallor of my complexion and the neverending dark circles under my eyes; because of many nights being unable to sleep because of persistent, unbearable pain. The light and sparkle have disappeared from my eyes as my symptoms continue to dominate. And every movement, every step is a painful reminder of how chronic illness has utterly altered how my body works and its limitations. Or not, as the case may be.

Thanks to FND, my walking looks ugly. It isn’t cute or coordinated like everyone around me; instead, I more resemble Bambi as he learns to walk for the first time. It’s shaky, unsteady, and insecure. And worst of all, it all happens in slow-motion. I’m unable to rush just in case I trip over my own feet or fall over in a heap on the floor. So I move slowly, attracting stares, stares either out of curiosity or concern, but stares which I swear I can physically feel.

Dating and Chronic Illness: I Am More Likely to Draw Pity or Ridicule Than Admirors or Potential Suitors

As I walk, I attract attention, just not the kind of wanted attention. My walking isn’t likely to attract admirers or suitors but more likely to draw pity or ridicule. In such moments, I am wholly self-conscious and self-loathing of my declining, uncooperative body.

"As I walk, I attract attention, just not the kind of wanted attention. My walking isn't likely to attract admirers or suitors but more likely to draw pity or ridicule." Share on X

An unaccommodating body makes dating or pursuing any kind of relationship much more challenging. It’s hard to go on dates when the fatigue is intense, or the pain is so excruciating that I cannot stay still because I am in so much discomfort. It’s hard to plan dates when I don’t know how I will feel tomorrow. The thought of going on a date is anxiety-provoking when I am clueless as to if or when my legs will suddenly collapse from under me. And especially as I never know if I will get back up or even walk.

"It's hard to go on dates when the fatigue is intense, or the pain is so excruciating that I cannot stay still because I am in so much discomfort. It's hard to plan dates when I don't know how I will feel tomorrow." Share on X

My inability to leave the house alone makes dating and chronic illness much more incompatible. I cannot drive because of the persistent, debilitating symptoms, making arriving at a date near impossible. I am constantly in the dark as to when next my legs will give way or if I will be able to get back up if they do; the severity of such symptoms has meant that it is not safe for me to go out on my own.

How Can I Make Somebody Else My Condition, When I Don’t Always Understand It Myself?

There are so many unknowns surrounding the neurological disorder I share my life with; how can I make another person understand when I’m unable to myself? It’s tough to explain the limitations of where I can go or why venues with high ceilings trigger such debilitating symptoms. It’s hard to be vulnerable and let someone into my life with a chronic illness, especially as people have doubted that I am even sick or implied that my symptoms are ‘all in my head.’

I carry a lot of baggage because of living with a neverending illness. But I cannot lug all the luggage alone, making me feel like a burden. Because of this, I often feel unworthy of love. Inside my head is a voice convincing me that nobody would want somebody whose life is stained so profoundly by illness.

"But I cannot carry all my baggage alone, making me feel like a burden. Because of this, I often feel unworthy of love. Who could want somebody whose life is stained so profoundly by illness?" Share on X

In an advice column shared in the New York Times, entitled “Is it OK to Dump Him Because of His Medical Condition,” counselled the advice seeker, concerned about dating a man with Crohn’s disease, that “committing to this person may be committing to a life as a caregiver.” The columnist also voiced that “You don’t owe it to anyone to accept that burden.”

One advice column confirms what I have always feared; I am a burden, and worse, how others see me. Guilt gnaws away at me, expecting someone to share the burden of chronic illness with me. I didn’t choose it, but any future partner would be. But, I don’t want anybody to see my condition or disability as an overwhelming obligation, but instead as a problematic but manageable situation, just one part of who I am, not the entirety of my reality.

"But, I don't want anybody to see my condition or disability as an overwhelming obligation, but instead as a problematic but manageable situation, just one part of who I am, not the entirety of my reality." Share on X

Rejection: A Common Thread In My Relationships

For me, rejection is a common thread that has connected many of my relationships. Rejection doesn’t only pertain to my dating life but also family and friends. When my symptoms became more apparent, friends turned their backs because my illness inconvenienced them. Ghosted, suddenly cut off by friends I thought care, excluded and left out, I have experienced them all. Hurt and confused, I could no longer pinpoint where or if I ever belonged. I felt and continue to feel unwanted, worthless.

"Ghosted, suddenly cut off by friends I thought care, excluded and left out, I have experienced them all. Hurt and confused, I could no longer pinpoint where or if I ever belonged. I felt and continue to feel unwanted, worthless." Share on X

It only makes me become more and more closed-off and discouraged from letting anyone close to my heart. It seems easier to keep people at a distance than risk rejection again.

For me, FOMO isn’t the fear of missing out. It has become the feeling of missing out. I often don a facade, snap and upload a picture intermittingly, or write a vague, positive status update, all to seem normal. Other times, I scroll through my feed and witness all the things I should be doing but seem unable. And the sting of being alone turns into a sharp pain, becoming more intense as I see those I know progressing in their personal lives with children and marriages.

"I scroll through my feed and witness all the things I should be doing but seem unable. The sting of being alone turns into a sharp pain, intensifying as I see those I know progressing in their personal lives." Share on X

But here I lie besieged with symptoms that continue to worsen. I feel like damaged goods, shelved like items reduced at the supermarket because of flaws or imperfections. And as my illness deteriorates, my chance of finding love or experiencing marriage and children seem to slip further out of my grasp. Instead, I feel stuck, encased in quicksand, sinking further, and gradually disappearing as chronic illness continues to pull me down into the abyss.

"I feel like damaged goods, shelved like items reduced at the supermarket because of flaws or imperfections. And as my illness deteriorates, my chance of finding love seems to slip further out of my grasp." Share on X

Dating and Chronic Illness: A Glimmer of Hope In The Love Stories of Others

But I hear stories that give me a glimmer of hope. I read stories of other chronically ill persons who have found love despite living with tremendous adversity. Those that have found a way to make dating and chronic illness achievable. The stories give me hope that you can find love, acceptance and someone who will not see me as a burden. They make me believe that I can find my very own romantic lead.

But still, I have doubts, doubts that I could attract anyone the way I am. I question whether I deserve such compassion; there must be something wrong with me for friends to abandon me so readily. I query whether I am an awful person; maybe I cannot be a good friend/girlfriend/wife. I distrust that any relationship will last; instead, I see myself rejected, left alone and lonely like the many times before. I don’t want to burden anyone or have anyone feel obliged to take care of me. I only want someone to see me as a person, as a partner, not as a patient or dependant.

Love and acceptance are all I want. Is that so much to ask?

"I don't want to burden anyone or have anyone feel obliged to take care of me. I only want someone to see me as a person, as a partner, not as a patient or dependant. Love and acceptance are all I want. Is that so much to ask." Share on X