The Weight We Carry: Chronic Illness, Love, and the Fear of Being a Burden

In episode two of The Ultimatum: Queer Love Season 2, cast member Mel opens up about something that stopped me in my tracks. She speaks, with trembling honesty, about living with a chronic illness, about being scared of getting sick, and how that fear weighs on her relationships.

She says, “I just don’t want to be someone else’s burden.”

Those words lodged themselves in my chest like a shard of mirror. Not just because they were raw and real, but because I’ve thought them too. I’ve lived them.

Living with chronic illness or chronic pain changes the way you love. It makes everything feel more fragile. And if you’re anything like me—or like Mel—you start to measure your worth not by what you give, but by how little space you can take up. How little inconvenience you can cause. How small you can make your needs.

Because you don’t want to be “too much.”

Because you’re afraid they’ll leave.

When Your Body Is the Elephant in the Room

Chronic illness isn’t just something you have, it becomes something you navigate in every moment of your relationship. Even when you're not actively flaring, you're carrying the possibility that your body might betray you. Again. Without warning.

Sometimes, it’s the obvious stuff—having to cancel plans, not being able to travel, being too exhausted for sex or date nights or even conversation.

Other times it’s more insidious: the guilt that seeps into every apology. The way you catch their face when you say, “I’m in too much pain today.” The way you wonder if they’re getting tired of hearing it.

The thing is, most partners don’t say that. They love you. They want to be there. They choose to be there.

But love doesn’t magically erase the reality that this isn’t easy—for either of you.

The Burden Narrative

There’s a story we tell ourselves when we’re chronically ill. It goes something like: “I’m hard to love.”

We internalise this myth not because our partners don’t care, but because the world around us constantly tells us that love is earned through performance. Through productivity. Through physical beauty, energy, spontaneity, sexual availability, emotional steadiness. Through being “low-maintenance.”

Chronic illness doesn’t fit that mold.

We cancel dates. We get “moody.” We need care. We ask for things that feel unreasonable, not because we want to, but because we have to. And then we apologise—over and over—for not being easy to love.

It creates a loop of shame and overcompensation. You try to give more, do more, be more… until you crash. And then you feel even worse.

What Mel Said

What made Mel’s moment on The Ultimatum so moving is that she gave voice to something so many of us never dare say aloud: I’m scared that my body makes me unlovable.

It was one of the most human, relatable things I’ve seen on reality TV in a long time. The glamour and drama faded away, and there she was: just a person scared of being too much for someone to stay.

In that moment, she wasn’t just Mel. She was every chronically ill person who’s ever flinched before saying, “I need help.”

Loving with Limits

Here’s what I’ve learned (the hard way): Loving someone when you’re chronically ill takes courage. It takes vulnerability, honesty, and sometimes brutal self-compassion.

Because yes, your illness is part of your relationship. But it’s not the only part.

You still have so much to give: your insight, your humour, your resilience, your creativity, your presence. You love deeply because you know how fleeting and fragile things can be. You understand loyalty and tenderness in ways most people don’t.

But that doesn’t mean it’s always easy.

Sometimes, being in a relationship while chronically ill means grieving the kind of partner you wish you could be. The version of you who could jump in the car on a whim, go out dancing, travel for hours, laugh without wincing. Sometimes it means letting go of the fantasy that love should be effortless.

It also means learning to receive—not just love, but help. Care. Grace. Rest.

When You Feel Like Too Much

There are days I don’t feel like a person. I feel like a problem to be managed.

On those days, it’s easy to spiral: to wonder if my partner resents me, to pick fights to test their patience, to withdraw so they don’t have to carry my pain.

And sometimes, they do feel frustrated. That’s okay. Frustration doesn’t mean they don’t love me—it means they’re human. Chronic illness doesn’t just happen to the person who’s sick; it affects the dynamic of the relationship. Pretending it doesn’t is what causes real damage.

What helps is communication. Saying, “I’m scared I’m too much” instead of pretending you’re fine. Letting them say, “This is hard” without making it about guilt. Finding the space in between where both people get to be seen.

We Are Still Worthy

Mel reminded me that it’s okay to name the fear out loud. That it doesn’t make you weak—it makes you brave.

We are still worthy of love. Not despite our illness, but as whole, complicated humans who live with pain and still find ways to offer joy. Who sometimes need help and still have so much to give. Who show up imperfectly but honestly.

Chronic illness may take things from us—stamina, certainty, ease—but it doesn’t take away our humanity.

To the Ones Who Stay

To the partners who stay: Thank you. For choosing us not in spite of our pain, but with it. For the quiet acts of care. For sitting through our spirals and bearing witness to our hardest days.

You help us believe we’re not just lovable—we’re loved. And that makes all the difference.

Closing Line:

So if you’re chronically ill and in love—or hoping to be—know this: your pain is real, but so is your worth. You are not a burden. You are a person. And you are enough.