Chronic Illness, Depression, and the Quiet Weight We Carry

I understand chronic illness not only through clinical training, but through lived experience. I’ve walked alongside people I love as a caregiver—watching the daily toll chronic illness takes on their bodies, their emotions, their faith, and their sense of self. I’ve also felt the weight it places on those who care for them: the exhaustion, the helplessness, the grief that often goes unspoken.

Chronic illness changes everything. Pain, fatigue, medical appointments, and uncertainty can slowly chip away at hope. Over time, it’s common for depression to settle in—not because someone lacks faith or strength, but because carrying so much for so long is heavy. For caregivers, depression can show up as burnout, resentment mixed with guilt, or a quiet sadness that feels hard to name.

There is a deep emotional and physical connection here. When the body is under constant stress, the mind often follows. And yet, in the middle of this reality, I have also witnessed something sacred.

I have seen Christ move in mighty ways—not by removing the illness, but by meeting people in it. I’ve seen strength where there should have been none, peace that didn’t make sense, and purpose grow out of pain. That doesn’t mean the suffering isn’t real or that we shouldn’t grieve what’s been lost. But it does mean that the story doesn’t end there.

One of the most meaningful shifts I’ve seen—both personally and professionally—is moving from the question “Why me?” to “How can God use me here?” That question doesn’t deny the pain. It invites God into it. Sometimes His work looks like deeper compassion, stronger boundaries, or the courage to ask for help. Sometimes it looks like rest. Sometimes it looks like hope returning slowly, quietly, over time.

If you are living with chronic illness—or caring for someone who is—your emotional struggle is not a failure of faith. You are not weak for feeling tired, discouraged, or depressed. Support matters. Therapy can be a place to process the grief, tend to your mental health, and explore how faith and healing can coexist with very real suffering.

You are not alone. God sees you in this. And even here, He is still at work.

Courtney Jaeckle, MA, LPC-S