There’s a particular kind of pressure that shows up in December. It whispers things like:
- “You should be happier.”
- “You should be doing more.”
- “You should be grateful, so why are you struggling?”
But hope isn’t a mood. Hope is not a performance. And for many of us, the holidays are not purely joyful. They can be painful, complicated, overstimulating, physically draining, financially stressful, or full of reminders we did not ask for.
So today, we’re talking about reaching for hope in a way that fits real life. Not sparkly. Not forced. Just honest and steady.
Hope can be small and still be real
Sometimes hope looks like a big breakthrough. But more often, in unseen illness life, hope looks like small things that keep us from falling through the cracks:
- Making one phone call and stopping there.
- Taking your meds and drinking water even if you can’t do the “whole routine.”
- Saying “no” to one thing so your body can say “yes” to breathing.
- Letting a simple meal be enough.
- Choosing comfort over comparison.
If your hope today is only the size of a mustard seed, it still counts. A seed is not loud, but it is alive.
The holiday “shoulds” that steal oxygen
Here are a few common “holiday shoulds” that can quietly steal peace from weary hearts:
- “I should do what I always do.” Even if your body has changed.
- “I should keep up with everyone else.” Even if you’re running on 12% battery.
- “I should push through.” Even if pushing through means crashing later.
- “I should make everyone happy.” Even if it costs you your health.
Here’s a gentle truth: Traditions are meant to serve people. People are not meant to serve traditions.
What to say to someone who’s struggling in December
Many people want to help, but don’t know what words to use. If you want to be a safe person for someone with an unseen illness, these phrases matter:
- “No pressure. I’m glad you told me.”
- “Do you want company, help, or quiet?”
- “It’s okay if you need to leave early.”
- “What would feel supportive right now?”
- “I’m not measuring you by your output.”
And here are a few to skip, even if they’re well-intended:
- “Just be positive.”
- “But it’s Christmas!”
- “At least…” (this one usually stings)
- “You don’t look sick.”
- “You should come anyway.”
Hope for the one living with the unseen
If you’re reading this and your body is loud, your heart is tired, or your life feels smaller than it used to, I want you to hear this clearly:
You are not behind.
You are not failing.
You are not less valuable because you are moving slower.
Sometimes your bravest work is invisible: resting, pacing, declining invitations, choosing a quieter corner, surviving the day without quitting on yourself.
If faith is part of your story, here’s a gentle anchor for a week like this:
“A bruised reed He will not break, and a smoldering wick He will not snuff out.” (Isaiah 42:3)
Even if you feel like a smoldering wick right now, you are not disposable to God. You are handled with care.
A tiny “hope plan” for the next 48 hours
Pick one from each column. Small counts. Small is often the win.
- Body: drink water, eat something simple, take a short rest, step outside for 2 minutes.
- Mind: lower your expectations by 10%, mute one stressful thread, breathe slower than you think you need to.
- Heart: text one safe person, light a candle, play one comforting song, write one sentence of truth.
A small kindness challenge (choose your energy level)
- Low energy: Leave a kind comment on someone’s post who seems worn down.
- Medium energy: Offer a specific help: “Can I drop off soup” or “Want a ride” or “Need a grocery run?”
- Higher energy: Check on someone who is often forgotten during the holidays and do not ask them to “be cheerful.”
A quiet note from The Flying Frog
If you’re new here, we’re building a kindness-and-awareness shop that helps support this encouragement project for people living with unseen illnesses. You’ll also find jewelry designed as wearable reminders for weary hearts.
If you’d like to browse, you can visit the shop here: TheFlyingFrog.store/shop
A short prayer for heavy weeks
God, for every weary heart reading this, please bring gentle strength. For bodies that are hurting, bring relief. For minds that are anxious, bring calm. For grief that feels sharp, bring comfort. Help us reach for hope in small, real ways. Surround us with safe people, and teach us to be safe people for others. Amen.
If you’d like, you’re invited to leave a comment:
- What’s one small “hope anchor” that helps you in hard weeks?
- Do you have a prayer request or a praise report you’d like to share?
- If you don’t have words, you can leave a 💚 and I’ll count it as “I see you.”
And if you’d like to stay connected with more Shine the Light stories and gentle resources, you’re invited to join my email list here: theflyingfrog.store/join-the-froggy-friends-support-email-list/
Need to reach us privately? Email: support@theflyingfrog.store