Beautifully Complex 339
When Hope Feels Heavy: Permission to Start A New Year Without Optimism
with Penny Williams

Penny Williams [00:00:01]: There is another kind of hope that doesn’t require pretending that we’re okay. It doesn’t require masking. It sounds more like this: I don’t know how this is going to unfold yet, but I’m still here. I don’t have answers, but I have not quit. And I’m allowed to begin without belief—just a willingness to begin.
Penny Williams [00:00:31]: Welcome to Beautifully Complex, where we unpack what it really means to parent neurodivergent kids with dignity and clarity. I’m Penny Williams, and I know firsthand how tough and transformative this journey can be. Let’s dive in and discover how to raise regulated, resilient, beautifully complex kids together. If you want more support, join our free community at Hub.BeautifullyComplexLife.com.
Penny Williams [00:01:01]: Hi friends. Thank you so much for joining me today. It’s January 1st, and if you’re listening on release day, this is a date that comes with a lot of expectations. We’re taught to set resolutions, to work harder, to do more so we can achieve more. We’re told this is a fresh start.
I wanted to record a hopeful message for you. But this morning, I was brought to tears—because I’m not feeling particularly hopeful myself. I’m struggling. And I’m committed to showing up for you in a real, genuine way.
I’ve had a long love-hate relationship with hope. I wrote about it back in 2015—how getting hopeful can hurt when things don’t work out. Sometimes it feels safer not to hope at all.
What I realized is that there is a message of hope I can share right now—but it’s not the shiny, forward-looking kind we associate with New Year’s. And that’s exactly why it matters.
Penny Williams [00:03:40]: The kind of hope we usually talk about requires certainty. Vision. Energy. Nervous system bandwidth. And I don’t have those things today.
That kind of hope sounds like, This year will be different. I see the path forward. But when you’re really tired—deeply tired—those things just aren’t accessible.
So instead, I want to talk about a different kind of hope. One that doesn’t require pretending. One that doesn’t require masking.
Penny Williams [00:04:19]: It sounds like: I don’t know how this will unfold, but I’m still here. I haven’t quit. I’m allowed to begin without belief.
So many parents of neurodivergent kids enter January exhausted, not inspired. We’ve had months of school struggles, holiday stress, financial pressure, family dynamics. Parenting is already hard. December takes a lot. And then we’re expected to slide into January like everything is suddenly fine.
If you’re starting this year feeling heavy instead of hopeful, I want you to know—you’re not alone. I’m right there too.
Penny Williams [00:05:51]: It is okay to feel how you feel. As I prepared to record this episode, I struggled with how to offer hope when I wasn’t feeling it myself. I cried. I reached out to friends. One dear friend just listened with compassion while I sobbed.
And that reminded me: sometimes what we need most isn’t answers—it’s being held emotionally.
So what can we do with how we’re feeling?
Penny Williams [00:06:29]: We can reframe hope.
Hope is usually framed as certainty—that things will improve, that the future will be brighter. But that kind of hope requires energy. And burnout drains energy.
Burnout isn’t failure. It’s information.
Just like behavior is communication, burnout is a signal. It tells us what we need. It tells us we need less demand, less pressure, less problem-solving. Not more resolve. Not pretending everything is okay.
Penny Williams [00:08:15]: Our bodies are saying, I need less. Less sensory input. Less struggle. Less carrying it all alone.
When hope feels inaccessible, we can’t force it. We don’t need optimism. We need a new definition.
Hope doesn’t have to be optimism.
It can be support. It can be steadiness. It can be permission. It can be one tiny, doable next step.
Sometimes, taking a small step forward is practicing hope.
Penny Williams [00:10:55]: Beginning doesn’t require confidence. We think it does—but it doesn’t. It requires safety. And knowing you’re not alone.
Instead of believing everything will work out, we can choose not to carry everything alone.
We don’t need to know what the next year will hold. We need a place to set things down when they get heavy.
Penny Williams [00:13:15]: So let’s reframe a few things.
Instead of asking what needs fixing, ask: What feels hardest right now? Just one thing.
Instead of goals, think about capacity. This year, my word is “capacity.” I need to honor my own capacity—not just what needs to get done.
Instead of consistency, let’s think about responsiveness. Consistency is hard when things are heavy. Responsiveness allows flexibility and compassion.
Penny Williams [00:15:27]: And instead of doing more—please stop trying to do more—we need to reduce friction and focus on feeling better.
When people feel good, they can do good. If we don’t feel good, we can’t show up the way we want to.
Your child doesn’t need a transformed version of you. They need you depleted less and supported more.
Burnout doesn’t lift because we try harder. It lifts when we stop doing it all—and stop doing it alone.
Penny Williams [00:17:09]: So if this is the year you stop pushing and start supporting yourself, I’m here for that.
You don’t need hope to take the next step. You need care. Support. And the rest will grow from there.
Please take good care. I’ll see you next time.
Penny Williams [00:23:10]: I see you. You’re doing hard and meaningful work, and you don’t have to do it alone. If this episode helped, share it and leave a review so others can find this support too.