Fighter, Survivor, Warrior: Rethinking Illness Language – Ep. 12 – The Fine, But Not Fine Podcast

In this episode of Fine, But Not Fine, I’m digging into the words we use to describe people living with chronic or incurable illnesses — terms like “warrior,” “fighter,” and “survivor.” While I know these words are meant to inspire and uplift, they often don’t reflect what daily life with a chronic illness actually feels like. Most days aren’t epic battles — they’re routines filled with managing symptoms, navigating healthcare, and just getting through. I share why I prefer words like “navigating,” “managing,” and “coping,” and why it’s so important for each of us to define our own experience, without feeling boxed in by someone else’s idea of strength. If you’ve ever felt weird about being called a “fighter” when you were just trying to make it through a Tuesday, you’re not alone.

You look fine, but you’re not fine, and that’s exactly what we’re here to talk about. Welcome to Fine, But Not Fine, the podcast about navigating rare disease healthcare battles and the messy reality of chronic illness. I’m Kelly Paul, and I’ve been living with Mycosis Fungoides since 2015. This is a space for real talk, real experiences and practical advice, because surviving is one thing, but figuring out how to actually live, that’s the hard part.

The Words We Hear When We’re Diagnosed. How Language Shapes Our Illness Experience.

Hey y’all and welcome back to Fine, But Not Fine. Today, I want to talk about something that we don’t always notice, even though it shows up in a lot of conversations, almost every message of support and every headline about someone who’s sick, and it’s the language of illness—the words we use or that get used for us when we’re diagnosed with something serious, something chronic, rare, incurable.

You know what I’m talking about, right? Those words like warrior, fighter, brave, strong, survivor.

War Metaphors in Medicine: “Figher,” “Survivor,” “Brave.” When Encouragement Becomes Expectation

Sometimes those words empower us, and sometimes they comfort people around us more than they comfort us, and sometimes they just don’t fit. So let’s talk about it.

Let’s talk about why these words are everywhere, what they mean and what they might unintentionally take from us.

Now, when people find out you’re sick, especially if the word cancer is involved, there’s kind of a script they seem to follow. You know, they say things like, you’ve got this or you’re a fighter. Stay strong.

Here’s one of my personal pet peeves: You’re gonna beat this. No, I’m not. It’s incurable, okay? She lost her battle with cancer. All of this language—it’s war language, right? Right out of the gate. You are a soldier in a fight you did not ask for.

When the Script Doesn’t Fit. Why “Stay Strong” Isn’t Always Comforting

And I get it. These words are meant to be encouraging. I know that they’re people’s way of cheering you on when they really don’t know what else to say. But I gotta tell you, some days I do not feel like a fighter. I feel like someone trying to remember when I last took my meds. I feel like someone who is absolutely tired of spending my lunch breaks on the phone, dealing with appointments or prescriptions, and I feel like someone who would just like to have a normal, boring day.

What These Words Take From Us. Unintended Pressure and Mask of Strength.

And sometimes the script doesn’t fit, and honestly, sometimes it feels like a mask—one I didn’t choose, but now I’m expected to wear. So let’s talk a little bit about what this kind of language implies, even when it’s said with love.

Because when you’re called a fighter, the assumption is that there is something to win and something to lose. But like me, if you’re like me, your illness may not have a cure—at least not right now, if I’m being positive, I mean, right, you know?

It’s not about winning. It’s about living with something that’s unpredictable, expensive, and lifelong. And when someone calls you strong, sometimes it can make you feel like you don’t get a chance to break down. Like if you cry or cancel plans or say I’m not okay today, you’ve somehow disappointed the role you’ve been cast in.

Illness as Identity: When Labels Replace the Person

And maybe the hardest part, really, is that this language doesn’t just describe our experience—it really starts to define it in us. Warrior, survivor, patient, person with cancer—all of it becomes a kind of shorthand for who we are. No longer people saying, Oh, she’s that really fun person or vibrant or blah, blah, blah, right? It’s the sick person.

Which is kind of a theme through a lot of the topics that I’m covering: how do we acknowledge where we are without having it be the sole definer, right?

Reclaiming the Narrative: You Are More Than a Diagnosis

And this, it’s just exhausting, you know? Because yes, I have an illness. Yes, I live with it every single day. But the root of it is—it is not the whole of me. And I don’t want the language of illness to swallow up the rest of who I am. I am still creative. I am still funny. I am still absolutely annoyed by slow drivers.

You know, I want space to be a full person, not just a diagnosis wearing a brave face. And it’s not that I reject these words outright. I’ve actually tempered myself on this a lot.

Understanding the Need Behind The Words: Why People Say What They Say

It used to really get my ire up when people would say some of these things, but I’ve learned over time that it’s more about what they need—to feel comfortable with what I’m experiencing.

But you know, sometimes it’s like they’re trying to put a limit on my identity, and I just want to reject that.

A Call for a Different Vocabulary: Navigating, Enduring, Coping—and That’s Enough

So I wonder—what kind of different vocabulary could we make room for in our stories? Things that come to my mind are words like navigating, managing, living with, enduring, even coping.

Because honestly, some days that is the most honest answer. We are just coping with it. Sometimes I say I’m figuring it out, or I’m learning to live with it. I might say I’m not fighting and I’m not winning. I am just living.

If “Warrior” Fits, Wear It — If It Doesn’t, That’s Okay Too: Defining Illness in Your Own Words

And for all the people who find strength in words like warrior, that’s amazing. Take them, own them, let them lift you up right now.

But if you are someone who hears those words and feels a disconnect, this is your reminder that it is okay to feel that way. You do not have to perform a version of strength that doesn’t feel or isn’t real. You can define your experience in your own words—or even decide not to define it at all.

You Don’t Have to Be a Warrior to Be Worthy: Let’s Talk About the Language of Being Sick

So much of being sick, especially with something ongoing or chronic, is about managing the things you did not choose. But the one thing you can choose is how you talk about it—and how you let others talk about you.

Like I said, if you feel like a warrior, own it. If you feel like someone just trying to get through the week, that is completely valid, too. If you don’t want your entire identity wrapped up in a diagnosis—that is not selfish or ungrateful. That is what we call human.

We’re not just bodies. We’re not just battles. We’re full, complicated people who happen to live with something difficult.

Share Your Story: What Words Have Helped or Hurt You?

Thanks for spending time with me today. If this resonated, I’d love to hear from you. I’d love to know what words have helped you or felt helpful to you—and what ones have not.

And if you’ve never thought about this before, maybe now is the time to start—because language is incredibly powerful, and so are we. Even if we don’t always want to be seen only through the lens of what we’re surviving.

Until next time, be kind to yourself—and remember, you don’t have to be a warrior to be worthy.

Thanks for Listening

Thanks for listening to Fine, But Not Fine. If this episode resonated with you, subscribe so you don’t miss what’s next. And if you’ve got a story, question, or just need to vent, reach out. I’d love to hear from you. Until next time, take care and keep on going.