A Christmas Story for Chronic Illness Warriors

"'Twas the night before Christmas," and I find myself not bustling about in a swirl of gift wrap and gravy, but rather cradling my energy like a handful of precious ornaments.

For those of us living with chronic illness, the 'Silly Season' can feel like a frantic, swirling snowstorm. As the world chimes in with calls of "fa-la-la-la-la" and sparkly expectations, we often feel our energy levels slipping through our fingers faster than Santa's sleigh flying through the sky like the “down of a thistle”.

I know this scene all too well. Living with an autoimmune condition, I've learned firsthand that caring for myself—especially when energy is a scarce resource—takes mindful effort. Over time, I've crafted a gentle roadmap to help navigate the frantic festivities while preserving my health, protecting my energy, and staying true to what matters most.

Let's break free from the narrative that the holidays must be non-stop action, grand feasts, and glistening trees that tower to the rafters. What if your season could find its own quiet, meaningful rhythm?

For me, it's settling into the stillness of the night to watch the Christmas tree lights shimmer against the windowpane. It's reading 'Twas the Night Before Christmas’ over Zoom to my grandchildren and then perhaps tuning in to watch the Christmas Carols on TV on Christmas Eve, letting the songs fill the house with gentle warmth. It's seeing the excitement on my grandchildren's faces on Christmas morning as they tear into their presents. These small rituals become anchors, holding me steady amid the holiday swirl.

Spoons Are Stirring (But Not Many)

For those living with chronic illness, energy can vanish as quickly as St. Nicholas disappears up the chimney. Managing that energy—those precious ‘spoons,’ as Christine Miserandino's Spoon Theory tells us—is vital. Each spoon represents a finite amount of energy, and once you've spent them—be it on wrapping gifts, attending parties, or cooking feasts—they're gone. Explaining this to loved ones can feel like facing a curious crowd. But trust me, it's worth it. I've taught my family that when I announce, "Spoons gone," they know what I mean and rally to help, no questions asked.

Imagine approaching your holiday energy management like a gentle waltz rather than a breakneck jig. Instead of expecting to put on a grand Broadway show every December, focus on small gestures that still bring that holiday sparkle. Plan rests before and after any gatherings to protect you from shattering under the season's weight. When you choose your commitments, let them be the ones that light up your inner tree. And gracefully say "no" to the rest, letting them drift away like snowflakes in the night sky.

Use technology to save your precious energy. Shop for gifts online. Have groceries delivered or ready for pick-up, so you're not meandering through crowded aisles like a reindeer lost in a candy cane forest? If you're cooking, ask your family to each bring a dish—if they don't, it's their turn for dish duty. After all, it's only fair that if they want a feast, they help make it happen! And if backyard cricket calls, you can be the smiling spectator, camera in hand, or the "third umpire" adjudicating the field umpires’ decisions. You'll capture memories without draining your reserves.

Finding Your Christmas Rhythm

Over time, I've found a holiday rhythm that works for me. No towering trees that require a step-ladder to decorate—now I have one I can sit beside, and with joy in my heart, I find the perfect spot for each ornament. The carols play softly in the background despite my husband's good-natured groans. I know he secretly loves them because I've caught him humming along more than once.

I've learned that thriving through the ‘Silly Season’ isn't about checking every box or perfecting every detail. It's about creating meaningful experiences that honour our new reality, allowing for quiet moments, heartwarming connections, and rituals that feel just right. It might mean smaller gatherings, shorter visits, or fewer decorations, but it can still be a holly-jolly holiday.

As this festive time unfolds, give yourself the gift of grace. Embrace the holidays as they are—imperfect, evolving, and wholly personal. There's room for silence, rest, and cherishing what truly matters. May you find comfort in letting go of what no longer serves you, and find hope in the traditions you keep, and the new ones you create.

May your days be peaceful, your energy well-tended, and your heart brimming with quiet joy. And as you settle in for “a long winter's nap”—knowing your ‘spoons’ are safe and your spirit nurtured—may you awaken to a new year filled with compassion, understanding, and the soft glow of possibility.