No Days Off for the Body:

A blog-post-poem for the chronically brave –

Chronic illness doesn’t RSVP.

It doesn’t care that the tree is lit 🎄,

that the cake is frosted 🎂,

that everyone else seems to get a pause button ⏸️

and a glass of something sparkling ✨.

Pain doesn’t take holidays.

It clocks in on birthdays 🎈,

shows up early to anniversaries,

pulls a chair up to the table at special events

and says, “Relax, I’ll stay.” 😑

This is the part they don’t put on greeting cards.

Living with chronic illness is a daily negotiation

with a body that speaks its own language—

fatigue as grammar 😴,

pain as punctuation 💥,

spoons as currency 🥄

that never quite stretches to the end of the sentence.

You wake up already budgeting energy

you haven’t earned yet.

You measure joy against fallout.

You do the math:

If I show up, what will it cost me tomorrow? 🤔

And then—because you love deeply,

because you are stubbornly human—

you show up anyway.

This week, I pushed past the edge.

Not dramatically.

Quietly.

The way chronically ill people do—

one more obligation,

one more “I’m fine,” 🙂

one more borrowed spoon

with interest I know I’ll pay later.

And now I’m here,

in the aftermath,

body loud 🔊, nerves raw,

trying to remember that rest is not quitting 🛌

and recovery is not weakness.

Here’s the truth, no sugar-coating:

This life is hard.

Relentlessly so.

Anyone who romanticizes it

has never negotiated with their nervous system

at 3 a.m. 🌙

But here’s the other truth—

the one pain never manages to kill:

There is a fierce, luminous strength

in surviving days that don’t let up 💪.

There is bravery in choosing softness

when your body feels like broken glass.

There is power in staying gentle

in a world that demands endurance 🌍.

So yes—

Merry Christmas 🎄.

Even if it hurts.

Even if it’s quieter than you hoped.

Even if your only celebration

is getting through the day.

And here’s to 2026:

not a year of “fixing,”

but a year of healing 🌱.

A year of listening instead of forcing.

A year of pacing like your life depends on it

(because, honestly, it does).

You don’t need to shine despite the pain.

You already shine through it—

steady, real, unfiltered—

under the light you carry ✨

that no illness has ever managed to dim.

Rest when you need to 🕊️.

Grieve when it hits.

Celebrate the smallest wins 🎉

like they’re milestones—because they are.

You are not behind.

You are not weak.

You are not failing.

You are still here ❤️.

And that, every single day,

is enough.