When life feels light and we share the wins—answered prayers, small victories, moments of joy—we’re met with hearts, likes, comments, and celebration. People show up. The algorithm amplifies it. The energy multiplies.

But when things get heavy… when we’re honest about the struggle, the silence can be deafening. The algorithm doesn’t boost vulnerability. The comments slow down. And we’re left wondering—do people not know how to respond, or do they not want to?

It makes you pause.

Somewhere along the way, we were taught to keep the hard parts tucked away. Don’t post the pain. Don’t share the mess. Keep it off “social” media. Maintain the illusion of perfection. But all that does is dilute our stories—and distort our understanding of what’s really happening in each other’s lives.

If we can’t share both the joy and the ache, then what are we even sharing?

This has been on my mind long before this current cycle of injuries and health challenges. It’s not just about me—it’s about the culture we’ve built. One that celebrates happiness but often sidesteps pain. We show up for the highlight reel, but not always for the behind-the-scenes. And yet, it’s in the messy middle—the grief, the confusion, the “I’m not okay”—where connection is most needed 

This holds true both online and offline. It applies to the family member who can no longer show up, the patient, the friend, the coworker, the customer—anyone whose role has shifted due to circumstances beyond their control. When someone is no longer able to participate in the ways they once could, or is actively seeking help or answers, don’t direct frustration at the person already carrying the weight. They didn’t choose this path, and depending on where they are in their journey, they may not fully understand it themselves.

It’s deeply disheartening to be in a vulnerable position—facing intense limitations—and then be treated as less because of it. Sadly, it’s likely the same for some of you, as it is for me, this pattern of oppression isn’t anything new. It’s a pattern I’ve seen repeatedly throughout my life. And the harsher someone’s situation becomes, the more harshly they’re often treated. That reality is painful, and it deserves to be named.

To be clear, I’ve been deeply blessed this past year. Some people have shown up in ways that far exceeded anything I expected. Their presence has meant more than they probably know. But there are others—who haven’t. And that’s hard to reconcile.

I know I fall short too. I don’t deserve the friends I do have who continue to care. I choose to count my blessings, because I know how easy it is to make excuses. But in the end, it’s about priorities. If something matters to us, we make time for it.

I’m saying this to myself as much as I am to anyone else…

Next time someone shares something that doesn’t evoke a smile, but an aw, that’s sad, or even a slight annoyance because it’s heavy, and we all have our stuff…don’t scroll past. 

You don’t need perfect words. Just show up. A heart. A comment. A prayer. A “thinking of you.” It’s not about fixing anything—it’s about being there.

Because presence speaks louder than performance. Let’s be there for the Eeyore’s  and the Pooh’s, the ones that don’t speak the loudest as much as we are for those that do. 

Gratitude for Today

To think outside the parentheses, I always leave a scripture, meme, and/or music clip that inspired the title and content. Because:

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”  

John 1:5

Thankfully, for those who follow Jesus, we can look forward to the day when there will be no more sorrow and pain, and our duty here is to point those who are suffering to Christ, to comfort them, and to listen to the Holy Spirit when he is convicting our hearts and calling our name.