Kindness in 2026: Everyone Is Carrying Something Heavy

It seems like everyone is exhausted right now.

Not just physically tired but soul-tired—the kind of exhaustion that results from carrying too much for too long without enough places to put it down.

In 2026, this isn’t an exception; it’s the shared human experience. Grief, anxiety, illness, uncertainty, loneliness—everyone seems to be carrying something heavy, even if we can’t see it.

That’s why kindness matters now more than ever. Not performative kindness. Not loud or attention-seeking kindness. But the quiet, ordinary kind—the kind that costs little but has a lot of impact.

Kindness is holding the door when your arms are heavy. It sounds like noticing someone instead of scrolling past them. It feels like patience when impatience would be easier. It shows up as compassion when you don’t have extra energy to spare. It means treating the person you don’t like the way you would want to be treated.

Being kind to friends and family is simple. Genuine kindness extends further and is more complex. It is all-encompassing, including people we forget, overlook, or would rather avoid.

Kindness Toward Yourself Is Not Selfish

And here’s something we don’t talk about enough: kindness isn’t just about how we treat others but also how we treat ourselves.

When we think about kindness, we often consider what we offer others. But it’s important to remember that we need it too.

I’ve heard people say they feel guilty doing things just for themselves—like caring for their own well-being is selfish. I don’t see it that way. If you don’t take care of yourself—mentally and physically—you won’t be well enough to be there for others truly.

I have a family friend who has been diagnosed with clinical depression. If she had tried to ignore those feelings and push through on her own, she could have slipped into a deeper, longer season of darkness—isolating herself from the connection and support that would carry her through.

Self-kindness is not quitting. It’s wisdom. It’s knowing when to pause and seek help so you don’t break.

Kindness toward yourself looks different for everyone. For some, it’s a bubble bath, a good book, or ten quiet minutes with a cup of coffee.

For others, it’s ignoring that impostor-syndrome voice that whispers, You don’t belong here.

Sometimes it means choosing more time with people who make you feel safe and less time with those who drain or diminish you.

Stories of self-kindness I’ve heard over the years include taking breaks from work, going for a swim, stepping outside for fresh air, or simply allowing rest without guilt.

None of these is indulgent. They are necessary.

Because kindness—toward others and toward yourself—is not about having extra to give; it’s about staying connected to your humanity.

When you choose kindness in the middle of your own struggle, you remind yourself that hardship hasn’t taken your heart. Life may have bruised you, disappointed you, or knocked the breath out of you, but it hasn’t stripped you of who you are.

You’re still someone who cares. You’re still capable of compassion. You’re still human.

We all, in our own ways, are on a journey of healing. We carry hopes we've not yet had time to pursue. We grieve versions of life we believed we’d have. We’re learning how to live with loss, change, and uncertainty. For me, grief has reshaped my understanding of kindness.

Science of Kindness

Research shows that kindness isn’t just a moral choice; it’s also good for your body and mind. Acts of kindness lower stress, boost mood, and increase resilience. Helping others releases dopamine, the “helper’s high,” while also lowering cortisol, the stress hormone.

Self-kindness protects against burnout, encourages healthier coping, and strengthens emotional well-being.

Even small gestures—such as giving a compliment or listening—can create a ripple effect, inspiring others to act kindly and strengthening social bonds. Kindness is truly contagious, nourishing both the giver and the receiver, and it is a proven way to boost well-being.

Kindness in Grief: Learning from Kevin

For me, grief reshaped my understanding of kindness.

My son Kevin endured deep pain for many years. What I didn’t fully realize until after his death was how much kindness he showed others despite his own suffering.

One of Kevin’s close friends, who lives out of state, came to see me after Kevin passed away, which was very difficult for him. He mentioned that he didn’t realize Kevin was struggling with depression and mental health issues, but his girlfriend was aware. Kevin often visited their home to spend time with her, listen patiently, and talk with her.

Kevin was sitting with someone else’s pain because he understood suffering. He didn’t try to fix it. He didn’t make it about himself. He showed up.

In grief, I’ve realized that kindness isn’t about having extra strength. Often, it stems from shared brokenness, as one wounded heart recognizes another.

Kindness becomes the glue that holds us together when answers are scarce.

You may not know what someone else is carrying right now, but you can be sure of this: everyone is carrying something.

So in 2026, let kindness be quieter but deeper.

Let it be guided by faith, even when faith feels fragile. Scripture reminds us to “love your neighbor as yourself,” and that command creates space for everyone—the forgotten, the difficult, the lonely, and even ourselves. God’s kindness toward us serves as the model and the source of strength for the kindness we show to others.

When we choose kindness amid grief, exhaustion, or uncertainty, we engage in something sacred. We reflect a love that meets people in their suffering, just as God meets us in ours. Let it be slower, but more intentional. Let it include how you treat yourself, not just how you show up for others.

Because we all need to recharge from time to time, and when we do, we’re better able to meet whatever life throws our way. That isn’t weakness, it’s your humanity responding to love.

May you show kindness to the people you love and to those who are difficult. May you extend kindness to the forgotten, the lonely, and the unseen. May you treat yourself with kindness, especially on days when grief feels heavy and strength seems faint.

And may kindness—quiet, ordinary, faithful kindness—continue to be one way love shows up in the world.

Kindness isn’t something we offer once we’re healed; it often flows from shared pain. Life may be hard, but kindness reminds us that hardship hasn’t taken our hearts.

In 2026, everyone is carrying something. Kindness is how we help each other carry it.

If this resonates, I hope it reminds you that even small acts of kindness still matter—maybe now more than ever. Please share or comment.🫶🏽