By Chiu Lau, Psychologist & Founder of Possibilities Psychological Services
No one really prepares you for the kind of grief that comes with chronic illness or invisible disability.
It is not the kind of grief most people picture. It is not sudden or visible, like losing a loved one (or your left foot). Instead, it sneaks up slowly, almost invisibly. It shows up when your world gets smaller. When you realise the things that once felt effortless now feel impossible. When people stop checking in because they assume you are “still sick.” When the medical system shrugs because your illness does not fit neatly into its boxes.
This kind of grief does not get casseroles dropped at your door. It does not get sympathy cards. Often, it does not even get named.
And here is the plot twist: grief does not always show up as sadness. Sometimes, it shows up as anger.
How Anger Shows Up
If you are living with Long COVID or ME/CFS, you probably know this already. Anger can sneak in wearing many disguises.
Anger at your body for not bouncing back.
Anger at yourself for pushing too hard, or maybe for not pushing enough.
Anger at doctors who dismissed your pain, or who told you to “just exercise” or “try to think happy thoughts” or (the classic) “lose some weight”.
Anger at the world for spinning forward while you are stuck in place.
And then comes the shame. You might think, Why can’t I just accept this? Why do I feel so bitter? That voice inside might whisper that you are failing at coping, that if you were stronger or more positive, things would be different.
But let me put my psychologist hat on and say: anger is not weakness. It is not failure. Anger is part of grief.
Anger Is a Protest
At its core, anger is protest. It is your mind and body saying, Fkn sh*t, this is not fair. This should not be fkn happening!
That protest matters. It shows that what you lost mattered. Your energy, your freedom, your independence, your sense of safety in your own body. Anger keeps you connected to those things, even if it feels raw or uncomfortable.
Seen in this light, anger becomes less about shame and more about meaning. It is not proof you are “doing it wrong.” It is proof that you loved the life you had and that you still long for something more.
My Own Reckoning with Anger
I did not realise how much anger I had been carrying until I stopped to really listen.
At first, I thought I was just frustrated with the ups and downs of being unwell. But underneath, that frustration had hardened into shame. I felt inadequate. I feared life would never return to what it once was. I blamed myself, as though my illness was somehow my fault.
Then something shifted during my EMDR session (yes, psychologists have therapists too). I began to name what was happening: This is not just anger. This is grief. I am grieving.
That simple recognition softened things. I stopped seeing my body as my enemy. I began to understand that it was carrying me through something unimaginably hard. I started letting go of self-blame and made space for grief instead.
From there, I turned toward what really mattered to me. Clarifying my values gave me a new compass. Maybe I could not return to my old life, but I could create one that felt more authentic, more supportive, more aligned with healing.
Meeting Anger with Curiosity
So what do you do when anger shows up?
The instinct might be to stuff it down, numb it out, or berate yourself for being “weak”. But what if, instead, you got curious?
When anger rises, try asking:
What are you trying to protect?
What are you mourning?
Often, anger sits on top of something softer. Maybe sadness. Maybe fear. Maybe longing. Sometimes even love. Love for the body you used to trust. Love for the hobbies and people you miss. Love for the life you are still trying to rebuild.
You do not have to jump straight to acceptance or gratitude. Healing does not mean skipping over the messy parts. It means making space for the full range of your feelings, even the uncomfortable ones.
Grief, Love, and Hope
Living with Long COVID or ME/CFS is a constant negotiation with your body and with a society that does not always understand. The grief of that is immense. Anger will ebb and flow. So will sadness, despair, and resignation.
But anger also carries a spark. It holds energy that can help you clarify what matters. It can fuel self-advocacy, boundaries, and change. And in quieter moments, it can guide you back to tenderness, reminding you that beneath the fire is love.
Because here is what I learnt: to grieve is to love.
And to love, even through loss, is to keep hope alive.
A Final Word
You do not have to be calm, graceful, or endlessly patient to be healing. You do not have to turn anger into silver linings.
There is room for all of it: your rage, your sorrow, your resilience. All feelings are valid (not all behaviours are though, so no, we are not allowed to yeet the next person out the window if they suggest we try jogging or keto).
If you are angry, it is because something mattered. If you are grieving, it is because you are loving. And even in the hardest moments, that love is still a quiet form of hope.
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Chiu Lau is a neurodivergent Psychologist with an invisible disability. She is also the founder of Possibilities Psychological Services, an Australia-wide online therapy provider. Since 2003, Chiu has developed expertise in the management of mental health, trauma, invisible disabilities, neurodivergence (including autism, ADHD, PDA, learning & intellectual disabilities), rare genetic conditions, carer & sibling mental health support, and gender diverse presentations.
Recognising the challenges associated with navigating various intervention and mental health provider options, Chiu invites you to book a complimentary 20-minute discovery call to explore your options and possibilities here.