What It’s Truly Like to Experience Chronic Illness During the Holidays

When I pack to visit my in-laws for Christmas, it’s not just clothes I need to bring; I also have to pack an entire bag of medication. There’s everything from migraine and thyroid meds to antidepressants, painkillers, and anti-nausea tablets, along with ice packs, a sleep mask, earplugs, and my weekly pill organizer. But it’s not just about the packing. Living with a chronic illness complicates everything, and the holidays are no exception.

For me, my body works best when I stick to a strict schedule. I’m someone who thrives on routine—habits are my anchor when it comes to managing my health. If I don’t follow my routine, like going to bed at a set time or eating the same foods that won’t trigger symptoms, my body lets me know. I’ve learned that if I skip meals or don’t get enough rest, I pay for it with a migraine or worse.

But holidays are all about breaking routines. I would love to stay up late chatting with friends without worrying about a migraine the next day or enjoy a few glasses of wine without suffering the inevitable flare-up. I wish I could go with the flow and spend time with family without constantly being aware of my health limitations. Unfortunately, that’s not my reality.

To manage my chronic illnesses, I have to stick to a strict schedule—even during the holidays. I’m currently planning a birthday party for my husband, whose birthday happens to fall on Christmas, and we’re trying to figure out the best time for people to arrive. I want to make sure it’s late enough that everyone has had dinner and seen their families, but also early enough that I’m not exhausted by the time the party starts. And then there’s the family event beforehand. I wish I could be one of those people who can do back-to-back outings without worrying about having to take Tylenol and downing espresso in between, but I’m not.

So, here’s the plan. I’ll rest before the family event and the birthday party, make sure I sleep in the next day, and drink plenty of water. I’ll eat enough food to keep my symptoms in check, and I’ll have a rescue migraine med on hand just in case things get too overwhelming.

Sometimes, I dream of a life where I don’t have to plan everything around my health. I long for nights spent watching movies with my in-laws, drinking wine and eating chocolate, without the painful consequences. But deep down, I know my body well enough to understand what will happen if I don’t prepare. If I let my guard down, I’ll end up in a dark room with an ice pack pressed to my aching head, unable to do anything but sleep through the pain. When it finally passes, I’ll be exhausted—more tired than I’ve ever felt after a night of drinking.

I know my life isn’t like everyone else’s. I know others don’t have to live so cautiously or pay such a high price for simple pleasures, and sometimes, I envy them. But even with all the pain, I still feel lucky. I’ve been with my husband for almost 10 years, and his family has been by my side through everything—my thyroid cancer, migraines, and brain injury. They know exactly what I need, and they’re supportive. They understand when I need to rest, and they make sure I’m taken care of. If I need to disappear from dinner to take a break, they don’t judge me—they simply hope I’ll be back when I’m ready. I’m grateful every day for the support they give me, especially since many in the chronically ill community don’t have that kind of understanding from their families.

The holidays are supposed to be a break, but living with a chronic illness means that there are no real breaks. I wish that wasn’t the case, but for now, I’ll appreciate my family’s understanding and make sure my bag of meds is ready to go.