Living Intentionally When You're Chronically Ill
- Antonia Kenny
- May 20
- 4 min read
By Antonia at Unremarkable Me Published: May 2025
Let me tell you something I wish someone had told me when I first fell face-first into the black hole of chronic illness: Living intentionally isn’t about fixing your life. It’s about finding ways to still live it, on your terms, even if those terms look nothing like you expected.
And—spoiler—it rarely looks like the version sold to us in curated Instagram reels featuring smiling women meditating on beaches at sunrise. Intentional living, when you’re chronically ill, is more like awkwardly stretching your fingers toward joy while wrapped in a heated blanket, hoping your body doesn’t betray you before you can finish your morning toast.
It’s not glamorous. It’s not polished. But it is yours.
What Does 'Intentional Living' Actually Mean When Your Body’s in Revolt?
For the average, healthy person, 'intentional living' is often marketed as minimalism, slow living, or that mythical 'balance' we're all supposed to be chasing. It’s about being present, slowing down, and savouring life’s little moments.
Which is all fine and good when your body is on speaking terms with you.
But for those of us with chronic illness, intentional living is not an aesthetic—it's a life raft. It’s an act of stubborn self-preservation in a world that keeps telling you to keep up, push through, and fake wellness until you collapse.
So what does it look like?
It looks like saying no to plans you know will hurt you.
It looks like taking the path of least resistance, and refusing to apologize for it.
It looks like choosing joy, rest, and boundaries as acts of survival, not indulgence.
It looks like redefining success on your terms, not society's.
The Unspoken Emotional Impact (Because It’s Not Just About Energy)
1. Regaining a Sliver of Control
When your body feels like it’s held together with duct tape and wishful thinking, choice becomes powerful. Intentional living hands you back the steering wheel—maybe not for the whole journey, but enough to make you feel like you still have a say in the playlist.
It reminds you that even if you can't predict your symptoms, you can choose how you respond, how you protect your space, and who gets access to your limited energy.
2. Guilt is a Liar
Oh, the guilt. The endless guilt for cancelling, for resting, for not being able to live up to the fantasy version of your life.
Intentional living challenges that guilt by saying: "Rest isn’t giving up—it’s giving yourself what you actually need."It gives you permission to stop framing rest as a failure and start treating it like a prescription. Side effects may include fewer crashes, more capacity for joy, and reduced people-pleasing tendencies.
3. Building Boundaries That Actually Hold
Living reactively makes you feel like you’re constantly apologizing for your limits. Living intentionally flips that script: "This is my capacity. You can meet me here, or not at all. "It’s not harsh. It’s self-respect in action.
And yes, people might leave when you enforce those boundaries. But here’s the kicker: the ones who stay will see the real you, not the exhausted performance version.
4. Joy Isn’t Optional, It’s Medicine
Here’s where it gets tender. When you live with chronic illness, your world shrinks. Big adventures might not be possible, but tiny moments of intentional joy become lifelines.
That 5-minute dance party in your pyjamas? That carefully chosen playlist that makes you feel alive, even if you’re stuck in bed? That defiant bright lipstick you wear on a day you feel like a corpse?
They matter. They tell your brain: "I’m still here. I’m still me. I still deserve to feel good things."
How to Actually Start (Without Turning It Into a Self-Help Cult)
Write a ‘Hell Yes’ and ‘Hell No’ list This is your new compass. What makes your soul feel fed? What makes you feel like you're shrinking? Get ruthless. Use it like a filter for decisions.
Get comfortable with 'should' being a dirty word"I should clean the house.""I should reply to that message."No.Ask yourself instead: Does this serve me right now? If not, it goes on the "nope" pile.
Reframe rest as active, not passive Resting isn’t doing nothing. It’s doing the thing your body is screaming for. Deliberate, chosen rest hits different—it feels like self-trust, not defeat.
Find joy in weird places If you can’t do the things you used to love, find new loves in unexpected corners. Maybe it’s weird documentaries about sea cucumbers. Maybe it’s painting badly and proudly .Maybe it’s rolling your wheelchair through puddles like the badass you are.
Celebrate the ‘boring’ wins like you just cured world hunger Brushed your teeth? Parade time. Didn’t engage with that ableist troll online? Confetti cannons. Sometimes, staying alive is the victory. Period.
The Quiet, Radical Truth of Living on Purpose
Here's what I know: For people like us, living intentionally is an act of quiet rebellion. It's saying, “I may not control what this illness does to me, but I will control what I give my attention, my energy, and my love to.”
It’s writing your own messy, beautiful, human script in a world that keeps trying to hand you someone else’s.
And it’s recognising that even when life feels like it’s happening to you, you can still choose to meet it on your terms.
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