Navigating the Holidays with Chronic Illness: Finding Peace in an Imperfect Season

As the seasons shift and the days grow shorter, I often notice my body shifting too. The cold, the damp, and the fluctuating weather seems to stir old pain in familiar ways - stiffness in the mornings, fatigue that lingers, and a sensitivity that feels heightened. And then the holidays arrive, right in the middle, and wrapped in expectations. Each year I feel the push and pull between a desire to fully participate and deep knowing that there’s a cost. 

It’s a dance I know well - the one between energy and overextension, connection and depletion, joy and pain. Even as a therapist who has made it her focus to understand the importance of pacing and boundaries as it pertains to chronic illness, it’s not always easy to choose rest over “should.” There’s grief in saying no, even when it’s the most caring choice.

I find myself constantly exploring the tension and complexity that chronic illness brings to the party - what the holidays are supposed to feel like and what they actually feel like when you’re living with chronic illness. There’s this cultural script that the holidays are meant to be full of energy, togetherness, and celebration. But when your body asks for slowness, specifically when pain, fatigue, or other symptoms show up uninvited, that script can start to feel impossible. We’re in a constant state of balancing the body’s limits with social pressures, fatigue with festivities, and grief for what used to be with gratitude for what is. 

Redefining What Celebration Looks Like

One of the hardest parts of living with chronic illness during the holidays is that joy starts to look different. For a long time, I thought celebration had to mean showing up - dressing up, staying late, doing all the things that make the season feel “full.” It took years (and a few painful flare-ups) to realize that celebration can also live in stillness.

When you’re used to measuring the holidays by what you do, it can feel strange to celebrate by being. But chronic illness often asks us to rewrite our relationship with energy and challenges us to find meaning not in how much we participate, but in how deeply we connect to the moments we can access.

Celebration might look like sitting by the window watching the snow fall, taking in the quiet. It might be calling a loved one for ten minutes instead of attending the party. It might be savoring a meal you’ve carefully prepared to meet your body’s needs, or finding gratitude for one small moment of comfort in a day that felt otherwise hard.

This shift - from performance to presence - is subtle but profound. It’s about finding connection, not comparison.

Redefining celebration doesn’t mean lowering your standards; it means expanding your definition of what matters. You might light a candle for yourself as a sign of gentleness, or make space for a new ritual that honors your body’s rhythms. Maybe a slower morning, a quiet walk, or simply giving yourself permission to rest without guilt.

Sometimes the most beautiful celebrations are the ones no one else sees - the ones where you choose peace over pressure, rest over resentment, and authenticity over expectation. That’s not giving up on the holidays - it’s reclaiming them in a way that’s honest and kind.

Boundaries as Acts of Love

Now is where you might be thinking “okay, Leah, that’s all fine and good, but how?” And the answer is: boundaries. I know, I know, too simple and seemingly impossible all at the same time. Boundaries can feel complicated. There’s often a deep desire to stay connected, to not disappoint others, to show up even when it hurts. The holidays, with all their layers of tradition and expectation, can bring those feelings into sharper focus. 

The truth is setting boundaries isn’t about selfishness or avoidance, it’s about honesty. It’s about acknowledging what’s real for your body and making choices that allow you to show up in ways that are sustainable. Boundaries, in that sense, are not walls that separate us, but instead, they are acts of love - love for yourself, and love for others who deserve and desire your truest self.

When we push past our limits to meet everyone’s needs, we often end up resentful, depleted, or in pain. When we honor our limits, even if it disappoints someone in the short term, we create space for relationships built on truth and care. It’s an opportunity for real connection - not saying “yes” to everything, but saying “yes” to what’s possible and meaningful. 

Sometimes that looks like:

“I would love to see you, but I’ll need to leave early if my symptoms act up.”

“Can we plan something quieter this year?”

“I want to celebrate with you, I just need to do it in a way that works for my body.”

“I brought food that I know is safe for me and my dietary needs”

These are not excuses; they are invitations - to be known and to allow people in your life to see and care for the real you, not the version you think they want. 

Sometimes love looks like saying “not this time.”

Sometimes love looks like choosing rest over presence.

Sometimes love looks like leaving early, cancelling plans, or showing up for ten minutes instead of three hours.

Sometimes love looks like bringing your own food to the table. 

Boundaries are not the absence of love. They are the structure that allows it to last. 

It takes courage to practice this kind of love - the kind that honors reality over expectation - but each time you do, you teach your body and your relationships that they can coexist based on compassion, not performance.

Choosing Gentleness

If you take one thing into this season, let it be this: gentleness counts. It counts as healing, it counts as strength.

Gentleness might mean saying no without overexplaining. It might mean asking for help. It might mean taking naps. Or doing less than others expect. All because you know your body best.

You deserve to move through this holiday season at your own pace, with compassion for what you’re carrying. 

If the holidays feel heavy this year, know that you’re not alone. Therapy can be a space to tend to that emotional weight - to make sense of the push and pull between your body, your heart, and the world around you. 

We understand how chronic illness can shape your emotional landscape, especially during demanding seasons. Reach out if you need support exploring these experiences - to find balance, self-compassion, and ways to stay connected without abandoning yourself. 

Wishing you moments of peace, rest, and genuine connection - however that looks for you this season.