If they’re a parent, chronic illness adds an invisible layer of complexity to everything. Even simple moments like a school pickup can become exhausting puzzles. Instead of waiting for them to ask, be proactive: “I’m doing the pickup loop today. Want me to grab your kid too?” Casual, low-pressure offers like that give them space to say yes or no without guilt. If you’re close to their child, you can offer to hang out for a bit so they can nap or take a shower. Don’t turn it into a big production with scheduling apps and follow-up calls. Keep it simple, low-lift, and safe.

You don’t need to wait for a formal meal train to jump into action. If you’re already cooking dinner, make a double batch and leave one on their porch. Or take inspiration from classic meal train ideas that travel well and reheat easily, such as casseroles, soups, baked pasta, and rice bowls. Don’t ask, “What do you want to eat?” That adds decision-making to their plate. Instead: “Dropping off something mild and easy tomorrow, will leave it by 5.” If they don’t respond, drop it anyway. Include a note that says “no pressure to text back.” The point is nourishment without expectation. Food is one of the most grounded, non-verbal ways to say, “I’m with you.”

You’re not there to solve it. You’re there to sit in it with them. When they say they’re tired, say, “That makes sense.” When they say it’s unfair, say, “Yeah, it is.” You’re validating what they feel, not redirecting them to silver linings or worse stories. Some days they might vent in loops, let them. If you’re not sure what to say, default to quiet. It’s better to be the friend who just listens than the one offering solutions they never asked for. They don’t need pep talks. They need presence.

They may not feel well enough to hang out, but that doesn’t mean they want to be forgotten. Keep extending soft invitations: a short walk, a movie night, a slow afternoon in the park. Let them know there’s no pressure to say yes. Just invite them out for gentle fun, and mean it. Don’t react with disappointment if they cancel. Stay neutral and kind: “Next time.” Consistency is key. Even if they haven’t accepted in months, your continued asking says, “You still matter. I still want to see you.” That’s the opposite of pity. That’s friendship.

If your friend is managing chronic pain and brings up homeopathy, don’t change the subject. Ask if they want help picking up supplements or tracking what’s helping. You can offer to swing by the health store for magnesium or help them compare calming options like ashwagandha or belladonna tinctures online. If they’re experimenting with THCa (check this out), help them double-check interactions with any meds—they may appreciate another set of eyes. What matters is helping them stay steady and informed, without acting like a skeptic or a cheerleader.

You don’t need the perfect words or a care package with a bow. You just need to be there. Text occasionally. Offer practical help. Keep their humanity centered and their autonomy intact. Your presence is more powerful than any plan. Support isn’t about fixing what’s broken, it’s about reminding them they’re not alone inside it. What matters most isn’t how much you do, it’s that you keep doing it. And when in doubt? Just ask, “Can I help with something small today?”

This article is written by Brad Krause. After years of neglecting his own well-being, Brad Krause created Self Caring. He found his passion in helping people adopt self-care practices, and his website shares the insights and resources he gathers on his path. You can reach Brad at [email protected].

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