When I Choose to Overdo It: Autonomy, chronic illness, and the right to decide

Listen to my companion podcast episode here: https://www.buzzsprout.com/2550301/episodes/18632072

There’s a phrase almost every chronically ill person knows and probably hates.

“Don’t overdo it.”

I know it’s usually said with care, concern, love, but that doesn’t change how it lands.

Because when you live with chronic illness, your life already comes with constant limitation. Your body already negotiates with you every single day. Being reminded of those limits, especially by other people, can feel less like support and more like surveillance.

This piece isn’t about ignoring consequences, it’s about choice.

The exhaustion of being monitored

One of the hardest parts of chronic illness isn’t just managing symptoms, it’s the feeling that your body is always being watched. People noticing how long you’ve been standing, how tired you look, and how much you’ve already done today.

Sometimes the warnings come from others, sometimes they come from inside your own head. Either way, they can feel like a reminder of everything you’ve already lost.

What looks like “overdoing it” to someone else is often something incredibly ordinary to us. Weeding a garden bed, painting a room., standing at a wedding, staying a little longer than planned.

When someone tells you to “be careful,” it can feel like they’re really saying: stay small.

Autonomy doesn’t disappear with illness

Here’s the thing I care deeply about naming:

Adults get to decide how they use their bodies. That doesn’t disappear because you’re chronically ill.

Risk assessment isn’t unique to disabled people. Everyone does it, every time they take on a long day, a physical task, or something uncomfortable. Chronic illness just makes the stakes more visible.

Choosing to participate in life with your eyes open is still choosing.

Knowing that something might cost you later doesn’t mean you’ve forfeited the right to decide. It means you’re making an informed choice just like everyone else does, even if they don’t have to think about it as much.

Denial vs. intentional choice

There’s an important difference here.

Denial looks like pretending there won’t be consequences, ignoring warning signs, pushing without planning or accommodations.

Intentional choice looks like:

• knowing the cost

• deciding it’s worth it this time

• planning for rest and recovery

• modifying where you can

• allowing yourself the experience anyway

Sometimes the benefit, connection, meaning, memory, and dignity outweighs the flare that may follow. And sometimes, missing out hurts more than the symptoms.

Quality of life matters

Chronic illness already shrinks life in ways most people never have to consider. Over time, that shrinking can create its own kind of grief.

Not standing in a friend’s wedding, ot being able to help with something simple, ot participating because you’re trying to avoid discomfort.

Sometimes, doing the thing and managing the fallout later hurts less than not doing it at all.

That doesn’t make you reckless, it makes you human.

The emotional layer no one talks about

There’s often anger underneath “don’t overdo it.”Anger at the unfairness, anger at being limited, anger at having your body managed by other people.

There can even be a little rebellion in choosing to push not because you’re in denial, but because you want a moment where illness isn’t the loudest voice in the room.

Those feelings are allowed.

Letting yourself feel them doesn’t mean acting unsafely. It means acknowledging the grief and frustration that come with a body you didn’t choose.

Choosing to overdo it—responsibly

This isn’t about extreme risk. It’s about everyday choices.

Things that help:

• planning rest before and after

• adjusting hydration, food, or meds if appropriate

• modifying events (arriving late, leaving early)

• accepting help without shame

• not stacking multiple high-cost activities

You’re allowed to protect yourself and live.

When other people won’t stop warning you

Sometimes a simple response is enough:

• “I understand the risks, and I’ve decided this is worth it.”

• “I’ll manage the consequences.”

• “This is my choice.”

You don’t owe anyone a debate.

If it’s a pattern, especially with someone close to you it might be worth a deeper conversation about autonomy, fear, and shared impact. But you don’t need to justify your body to be allowed to use it.

A reminder I want you to have

You are not reckless for wanting a full life, choosing joy is not denial it’s humanity. Chronic illness takes enough already. Sometimes you choose rest, sometimes you choose the moment, both are allowed.