Bioresistance: living with limits without giving up

“Illness is the night‑side of life; a more onerous citizenship,” wrote Susan Sontag. That night‑side arrives without warning. A chronic diagnosis is not a pause or a parenthesis, but a turning point that forces the reorganisation of an entire biography. Until that moment, many of us have lived inside a persistent cultural fiction: the idea that the body can remain young, efficient and unworn, as if biology existed outside of time.

Chronicity breaks that illusion — a true ontological fallacy that reminds us we are finite beings and that wear and tear are part of life.

Today, moreover, those who fall ill move within an especially hostile landscape. A person with a chronic condition becomes trapped at the intersection of four forces that shape their experience:

Productivity imperative — A culture that equates health with performance and does not tolerate vulnerability. The sick body is pushed to the margins, and guilt and a sense of invalidity appear.

Contemporary body cult — Youth, strength and flawless appearance function as moral virtues. Under this logic, illness is interpreted as neglect or lack of willpower, adding shame to fragility.

Technological promise — Biomedicine promises to reverse ageing and repair cellular damage. When those expectations are not met, deterioration is experienced as personal failure or as a lack of resources compared to those who can afford premium medicine.

Clinical reductionism — Medical practice, focused on measuring and protocolising, reduces a biography to a list of symptoms. In old age, the person becomes fragmented into pieces that each specialist treats separately.

In the friction of these pressures, many ill people become overwhelmed. Without a bodily narrative that legitimises their experience, illness is lived in solitude.

How can everyday life be sustained when the body hurts, tires or stops responding?

The answer does not lie in denying fragility or waiting for miraculous solutions. It lies, among many other actions, in developing a form of active adaptation that I call bioresistance.

This approach is not forced optimism nor textbook resilience. It is a practical and mature stance that allows one to recognise limits without being defined by them. It involves reorganising energy, prioritising what is essential and asking for support without losing initiative or dignity. And above all, it is a slow process: it does not emerge overnight, but is built through trial and error, observing the body, adjusting expectations and learning to live with what hurts. It is not a technique but a practice that strengthens over the years.

And it often begins with a simple and courageous gesture: accepting that the body has changed, that there are days when it limits and hurts. From there, this form of adaptation becomes a tool for regaining control and breaking the taboos that still surround illness. Accepting that pain, that discomfort or those days when the body does not allow what was planned does not mean giving up on life.

Chronicity forces us to live with limits that sometimes impose themselves harshly, but it does not require disappearing from the world. The ability to endure discomfort without excluding oneself from common life, to remain present even when the body does not fully cooperate, to find possible — even if modest — ways of participating in the everyday, is precisely the heart of this vital attitude.

This is why it is so important not to hide fragility, not to feel ashamed for needing help, not to withdraw from shared spaces and not to live illness as a secret. Showing what is happening is not a defeat, but a form of truth that allows one to remain in the world with dignity. This way of being does not eliminate pain, but prevents it from dictating the entire biography, shaming us or making us feel guilty for not being like everyone else.

It is built, along with other essential factors, from the experience of those who, living with chronicity, learn to manage it with clarity. This adaptive framework offers tools to defend autonomy, make informed decisions and maintain a personal life project even under the rule of limits. It is not an abstract ideal, but a daily practice consolidated through time, will and discipline.

Fragility is not the end of the story. It is the fertile territory of bioresistance, where many people discover new forms of identity, relationship and meaning. This inner compass allows one to orient the path with realism, dignity and renewed capacity, knowing that illness can also open new forms of understanding and maturity at any stage of life.

Written by: Carmen Núñez Cuenca