May is Lupus and Mental Health Awareness Month, and these hold a special place in my heart and life.
First, let me just say that although I can’t back this up with data, maybe — just maybe — one of the reasons our collective mental health is sh*tty is because we now live in a world where almost everything is prioritized above humanity.
And to be fair, I probably shouldn’t bring the whole world into this. Even though mental illness knows no borders, I’m willing to bet the United States ranks pretty high among countries where mental health struggles, like anxiety and depression, are especially prevalent.
To quote the internet, I hate it here.
This isn’t a post about solutions. Not exactly. I’d love to provide guidance or methods to cope, but I’m not a psychologist, nor am I a psychiatrist. But I am human. And I feel deeply. So I thought about writing this — yet another post to bring more awareness to what feels like an epidemic hiding in plain sight. A reminder that we’re all carrying things we don’t talk about, and that you are not alone in whatever it is you’re surviving.
We don’t have to share every detail of our lives online. But I’ve spoken openly about my autoimmune disease many times before. It’s an invisible illness, and there’s something especially frustrating about suffering in ways people cannot see. Sometimes it’s so invisible that even I forget it’s there — until my body reminds me of it.
But lately, even that has taken a back seat, because my mind and heart are occupied by something much bigger than me: my mom’s dementia.
There’s grief in watching someone slowly disappear while they’re still physically here. There’s exhaustion in trying to stay emotionally functional while life keeps demanding things from you as if nothing is happening. And I know I’m not the only person quietly carrying something heavy while still trying to show up every day.
I’m okay with sharing because sharing creates connection. Sometimes reading someone else’s story is enough to make a person feel seen. Enough to remind them they’re not crazy, not weak, not alone. Sometimes, it is the first step toward healing.
And if nothing else, I hope this post reminds you to be gentler with people. I hope this post reminds you to be gentler with yourself. I need the reminder myself sometimes. The fact is everyone is fighting battles you know nothing about. So be kind.
I’ll always advocate for mental well-being, especially in a world that often makes it incredibly hard to protect. No one should struggle alone.