Friendship, Pain, and Resilience: Navigating Loss with Hidradenitis Suppurativa and boils

Two friends fighting because of the wall between them.

There are moments in life when chronic illness becomes louder than we wish it would, louder than the relationships we hold close. Moments when pain eclipses joy, and even the people we love can’t seem to bridge the gap that illness creates. Living with Hidradenitis Suppurativa (HS), boils, tunneling and extreme levels of pain, has taught me how isolating and misunderstood this condition can be. It has tested my patience, my strength, and, on one unforgettable occasion, a cherished friendship.

I’m sharing this story not to place blame or dwell on hurt, but to connect with anyone who’s experienced similar losses. I experienced losing a friend, but I am certain that many HS\boil warriors have lost romantic relationships or perhaps didn't even try to pursue romance because of this illness. I know you’ve felt the sting of misunderstanding, the grief of losing someone dear because of circumstances beyond your control, or the crushing weight of trying to explain what can’t fully be understood unless lived—I want you to know, I see you. You are not alone.

The Pain That Goes Deeper Than Skin Boils...

For those who are unfamiliar, Hidradenitis Suppurativa isn’t just a skin condition. It isn't something that shows up for one day and suddenly disappears within 24 hours. It’s an unrelenting, chronic illness that manifests through painful boils, inflammation, tunneling, and scarred tissue. But the physical pain is only the beginning. Each boil flare-up brings a unique layer of emotional exhaustion, a reminder that your body is at war with itself. It’s hard to explain how much a single boil can take over your life, but during this particular chapter, I was battling a boil on my chest that caused excruciating pain with every movement. The pain was consistent because of my boobs and the location of the boil being directly under my breast. This meant wearing a bra was painful, moving up and down, sitting or walking, sometimes even breathing heavily, would cause a ripple of pain throughout my entire body.

Simple tasks became monumental challenges. Getting in and out of bed felt like dragging myself across shards of glass. Going to the bathroom meant bracing myself for a sharp, stinging discomfort. Even brushing my teeth or reaching for a glass of water made my chest tighten in agony. At night, I couldn’t sleep. Every shift in position reminded me of the angry, swollen boil stretching my skin to its limits. And when it finally came to a head and burst, though it brought fleeting relief, it left behind an open wound so raw and tender that cleaning or dressing it made me wince with every touch.

At the time, I was working a stressful job and juggling personal obligations that only added fuel to the fire of my inflammation. Painkillers like ibuprofen became a lifeline, but no amount of medication could quiet the constant thrum of discomfort. Worse yet, much of this battle was invisible to those around me. I put on my mascara, plastered a smile on my face, and pretended NOT to feel the pain. From the outside, I looked functional, even fine. On the inside, I was a ticking time bomb of exhaustion, pain, and depression.

Depression in most cases cannot be seen.

The Cost of Misunderstanding Hidradenitis Suppurativa HS Boils

My friend and I had been close for years, practically family. We shared countless memories, laughs, and dreams. But during this time, our dynamic shifted. We were both under immense stress, but while my friend's pressures were more external, mine were tied to my body’s internal rebellion.

Living in close proximity during my worst HS boil flare-ups amplified the tension. I struggled to communicate the extent of my pain and the toll it was taking on me. I value routine and wanted to stick to what was normal to me, like early mornings, the gym, and long hours at work. But to do this, I took extreme amounts of pain killers. How do you explain what it feels like to live in a body that hurts simply because it exists? How do you make someone understand the emotional equivalent of being trapped in an endless cycle of pain, hopelessness, and fear? The truth is, unless someone is living it themselves, they often can’t fully grasp its weight. I cut out the gym completely and focused on work and healing the boil under my breast.

One day, seemingly out of nowhere, my friend opened up about all the things she felt were wrong in our friendship. It hit me like a thunderstorm I didn’t see coming. I tried to listen, to understand, but I felt blindsided and heartbroken. By the end of that conversation, I realized our friendship wouldn’t recover. And it was all due to a few misunderstandings and my inability to help her during her time of need, with the growing boil under my breasts and a tender opening on the inside of my thigh.

At first, I carried on as though nothing had happened. I mean, what else was I supposed to do after a friendship collapsed while I am still in physical pain? I kept showing up to work, going through the motions of my day, pretending I wasn’t heartbroken. But the pain inside me festered just as much as the boil on my chest had. Months later, it hit me all at once—that loss, that loneliness, the more frequent flareups, and the depth of the misunderstanding I had felt during those moments.

Even though I was surrounded by people, I felt utterly alone. Pain ruled my life, and the disconnect between how others perceived me and what I was actually enduring left me feeling misunderstood in ways I couldn’t articulate. To be truthful, I wondered why I even existed here on earth at various time a day. I lost a tender friend and I had a tender body with my HS boils, most importantly I had to find a way to navigate through both the physical and mental pain.

Healing in the Face of Loss

If you’ve lost friendships because of HS, I want you to know this feeling isn’t uncommon—but it doesn’t make it less painful. When chronic illness is a constant presence, it reshapes our lives in ways we can’t control, and that reshaping can sometimes push even the closest relationships to their breaking point.

Here’s what I’ve come to understand through that experience, and what I hope you’ll hold onto as well:

• Your Pain Is Valid: Chronic illness isn’t something to be minimized or brushed off. Your pain, both emotional and physical, is real and deserving of compassion.

• It’s Okay to Mourn: Losing a friend hurts. It’s okay to grieve the loss, to feel that sadness fully, and to give yourself the time to process it.

• Not Everyone Will Understand: And that’s okay. It doesn’t make you less worthy or lovable. It simply means their capacity to support you has limits, and that’s a reflection of them, not you.

• You Are Not Alone: It’s easy to believe that no one understands, but there is a community out there who does. Who’s been there. Who knows exactly what it feels like to lose, to grieve, and to rebuild.

Finding Strength in Others with Hidradenitis Suppurativa Boils

Though this period of my life was one of the loneliest, it also shaped me in ways I didn’t think possible. It taught me the importance of connecting with those who understand, who can look beyond the surface, and who truly see and hear you.

To anyone who’s feeling the same kind of solitude, I want to say this: I see you. I feel your pain. And you are not alone. I hope that this space can serve as a reminder of that truth, even on your darkest days.

If you’ve been through something similar, I’d love to hear your story. Share it in the comments if you’re comfortable, or reach out directly. Sometimes, simply knowing someone else gets it can make all the difference.

Pain, as overwhelming as it feels, doesn’t define who you are. Those scars, outside and in, are reminders of the strength it takes to keep going. And keep going, we will.

With love and understanding,

Healing Hidradenitis Suppurativa one post at a time,

Ericka