As the year winds down, expectations seem to pile up—at work, at home, and in our own heads.
There’s pressure to reflect, to wrap things up neatly, to feel grateful and celebratory all at the same time. For many, that’s energizing. For others, it’s simply exhausting.
What I’m especially aware of this time of year is the quiet strength of helpers—particularly the nurses on my team at Guardian Nurses.
They show up day after day to untangle confusion, advocate in complex situations, and stand beside people and family members who are often overwhelmed, scared, or frustrated.
Much of that work is invisible. And much of it is heavy.
Nurses don’t just manage care; they absorb stories. They hold worry. They carry questions that don’t always have immediate answers. And they do it with professionalism, compassion, and an extraordinary sense of responsibility.
This issue of The Flame is an invitation to slow down just a bit and recognize the emotional labor that so often goes unnamed—especially during the holidays.
Whether you’re a helper yourself, love someone who is, or simply find December to be more complicated than advertised, I hope this issue offers reflection, understanding, and a reminder that none of us are meant to carry everything alone.
Happy Healthy Holidays!
— Betty Long, RN, MHA, President/CEO, Guardian Nurses Health Advocates
December tends to come with a script.
According to that script, we are all supposed to be joyful, grateful, well-rested, and surrounded by people we adore—preferably while wearing something festive and feeling absolutely no emotional conflict whatsoever.
For many, though, the holiday season unfolds quite differently.
For many people, the holidays are complicated. Grief doesn’t check the calendar. Loneliness doesn’t disappear because the tree is decorated. Illness, family tension, and financial stress don’t magically resolve themselves with a bow on top. For some, December simply turns up the volume on things that were already hard.
Now imagine being the person who walks into that reality every day.
Helpers—nurses, therapists, social workers, home health aides, chaplains, and family caregivers—experience December on two levels: their own, and everyone else’s. While much of the world leans into celebration, helpers are often holding space for pain, decline, loss, and uncertainty. Sometimes quietly. Sometimes on very little sleep.
It is meaningful work.
It is also heavy work.
And no, tinsel does not make it lighter.
The Emotional Baggage Nobody Checks at the Door
Helpers are trained—or instinctively wired—to be present, compassionate, and steady. But even the best caregiver is not made of steel. Or Teflon. Or any material that prevents emotions from sticking.
Nurses witness suffering up close, often back-to-back. Therapists and social workers hear stories that don’t end neatly when the session does. Family caregivers carry responsibility that doesn’t clock out, take holidays, or politely wait until January.
During December, that emotional load often increases. Patients may be sicker. Families more stressed. Expectations higher. And the contrast between “It’s the most wonderful time of the year” and real life can feel especially sharp.
The challenge for helpers isn’t caring deeply. It’s caring deeply without trying to carry everything home.
Compassion Fatigue Is Not a Character Flaw
When helpers start to feel drained, short-tempered, numb, or unusually tired, the instinct is often self-criticism. “I should be better at this.” “Others have it worse.” “I signed up for this.”
But there’s a name for this experience: compassion fatigue. And despite how it sounds, it doesn’t mean you’ve run out of compassion. It means you’ve been spending it generously—often without enough time, rest, or support to replenish it.
Add the holidays, and suddenly the tank starts to leak.
Feeling worn down in December isn’t a failure. More often, it’s evidence that you’ve been showing up—again and again—when things were hard.
Caring for the Caregiver (Yes, You Count)
For helpers, December can be a moment to pause—not to add another self-care task to an already crowded list, but to be intentional about getting through the season intact.
That might mean:
- Setting firmer boundaries, even when guilt shows up uninvited
- Creating small rituals that mark the end of a shift, a visit, or a long day
- Talking with people who understand the weight, without explanation
- Allowing your own emotions to exist—without minimizing them
Self-care doesn’t require candles, journals, or a personality overhaul. Sometimes it’s a deep breath in the car. Sometimes it’s turning off the noise. Sometimes it’s saying no—and trusting that no is enough. And sometimes it’s simply admitting: This season is a lot.
A Different Kind of Holiday Wish
If December feels joyful for you, that’s certainly something to enjoy. But if it feels heavy, uneven, or emotionally complicated, you’re in very good company.
And if you are a helper—by profession or by circumstance—your work matters in ways that don’t show up on holiday cards. The steady presence. The quiet advocacy. The moments when you make something hard a little less lonely.
This season, maybe the goal doesn’t need to be happiness. Maybe it’s honesty.
Maybe it’s compassion—for others and for yourself.
Maybe it’s getting through the holidays with your humanity intact.
That counts. More than you know.