I have a friend, a mental health professional, who uses her Instagram account to share positive messages, self-care tips, and resources and helpful hints for when you’re not in the best head space.

I’ll admit, when she first started posting, I scrolled by quickly, but as I paid more attention, I realized she wasn’t just sharing platitudes. A lot of her shares were very targeted to specific feelings, and specific actions to help. Sometimes, when I’m feeling especially blah,

I will flip to her page and read a few things, meditate a little bit, and it’s just the pick me up I need to get me back on track and feeling better. Why, you may ask, don’t I just pick up a phone and call a real person and have a meaningful discussion instead? Well, it’s primarily because these moments happen to me at 2 or 3 in the morning, when I just can’t sleep.

In my conversations with other people, I’ve heard again and again how people have nothing left in them, and that they’re barely hanging on to their own sanity and health, and that they have nothing left for anyone else. I’ve felt that way so many times myself, more so in the last year than ever before. It’s a parent thing, to worry about everyone else besides yourself until you’re running on empty and then everything falls apart.

But as the old saying goes, “you can’t fill from an empty cup.” Another friend of mine, who was notorious for “doing it all,” was recently diagnosed with a life-changing illness. She said to me, “I didn’t take the time, so God made the time for me.”

Thankfully, with some lifestyle changes and medication, her disease should be manageable, and she should still have many good years in front of her, but her point to me was that we shouldn’t be faced with our own mortality to do the right things for ourselves.

I only did one quick Christmas shopping trip this year, as the kids have graduated to that fewer but more expensive gift level, and I was surprised how many little signs I saw on business doors to “be kind” to retail workers. Some cited supply chain shortages, other staffing shortages, others just assumed you didn’t need a reason, but the message was the same: don’t take out your anger and aggression on the person who is doing their best to help you.

I can only imagine the scenes that must have taken place before those signs going up, and I doubt whether or not they were very helpful. The holidays are stressful enough as it is.

I almost ended that sentence with “in a normal year” but, as one late night comedian recently pointed out, our last “normal” year was 2019, which was four calendar years ago.

Just some perspective: if a child started kindergarten in the fall of 2019, they’ve never had a “normal” year of school, and they’re now halfway through second grade. Even my 11-year-old who is now in sixth grade, remembers third grade as her last “normal” year. So, just about half her education has been “not normal.” All this to say, there really isn’t a “normal” anymore.

As I had yet another conversation with another friend who is going through a rough patch, she kept stopping to say that she knows she shouldn’t complain because she still has it better than a lot of people.

The first few times, I agreed with her, because I frequently find myself feeling the same way. Then I realized she was spending more time getting upset about not deserving to feel overwhelmed than she was about being overwhelmed. Sometimes I think we do get caught up in the “man with no shoes versus the man with no feet” argument, especially in our own heads.

The truth of the matter is that both having no shoes and having no feet are legitimate problems and both deserve our empathy, and if possible our help. Sometimes counting your blessings instead of your problems can help you regain your center, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that the problems go away.

I feel like I’m jumping all over the place with my thoughts this week. I usually come out of the holidays feeling energized and excited for a new year, but this year is different. I feel very weighted down by the grief and loss that so many of my friends and family have faced this last year, and I hate not having answers or being able to help. I feel like I’m definitely not alone, and that there are many others who feel the same way.

For me, I will continue to find the quiet voices and corners that can offer solace and remind me that I’m not alone. I will continue to try to be a support for others in a way that is helpful to them. I only hope that everyone can find the support and help that they need as we continue to navigate through these unprecedented times.

Liz Pinkey is a contributing writer to the Times News. Her column appears weekly in our Saturday feature section.