mental health awareness

My husband and I went to Saint Martin for our honeymoon. It was amazing. I have a core memory from that vacation long ago that I often now use as, what I think, is a perfect metaphor for the extreme treatment resistant depression that I struggle with.
Every afternoon we would go swimming in the beautiful blue ocean. Now, while my husband is a very strong swimmer...I am not....at all! Time and time again, I would find myself swept up towards the shore by the strong waves. All I could really do was sit there while the relentless waves crashed upon me one right after another. Every time I tried to stand up, another wave would come and knock me right back down. I could not get my footing to save my life! And every time, my amazing new hubby would come over, hold out his hand, and help me stand again. We always enjoyed a good laugh about it back then.
Well, here we are, 23 years later, and I once again find myself constantly being knocked off my feet, unable to stand by myself...only this time, the waves are dark, scary, stormy waves. And they're 1000 times bigger than before. And they're crashing so fast that even though my still amazing hubby is trying with all his might to help me up, even he is no match for these waves. It's like they've come for my life and they're not leaving until they get it. Of course, these waves are...depression. #Depression #MentalHealth #depressionawareness #MentalHealthAwareness #mentalhealthmatters #MightyTogether

I just finished reading Know My Name by Chanel Miller, and I’m still sitting with everything it stirred up. This memoir is a powerful, unflinching account of Miller’s experience as the victim in the high-profile Stanford sexual assault case, and her journey of reclaiming her identity, voice, and sense of self in a world that so often tries to silence survivors.

What struck me most is how Miller goes beyond the courtroom and headlines. She explores trauma, healing, anger, art, and resilience in ways that are deeply human and relatable, especially for anyone who has ever felt unseen or unheard. Her writing is sharp, poetic, and quietly devastating.

If you've ever felt like your story was dismissed or erased, this book might help you feel a little more understood, and a little less alone. Has anyone else here read it? I'd love to hear your thoughts or how it resonated with you.

#TraumaRecovery #SurvivorsOfSexualAssault #MentalHealthAwareness #BooksThatHeal #KnowMyName #TheMighty

#MentalHealthAwareness

📖 Off the Spectrum: Why the Science of Autism Has Failed Women and Girls by Gina Rippon explores how autism research has historically focused on boys and overlooked how autism presents in girls and women.

The book explains why many individuals have been missed, misunderstood, or misdiagnosed—especially when camouflaging or masking behaviors are involved. This pressure to fit in and hide struggles often leads to emotional challenges that can take years to understand.

Key topics include late diagnosis, the female protective effect, and how conditions such as anxiety, sensory sensitivities, and eating disorders are often linked to autism in girls but frequently overlooked. Rippon calls for important changes in research, diagnosis, education, and support to ensure future generations receive better recognition and care.

If you’ve felt that autism diagnosis criteria didn’t fully reflect your experiences or those of people you know, this book offers valuable insights.

#OffTheSpectrum #AutismInGirls #LateDiagnosis #womenandautism #Neurodiversity #Camouflaging #MentalHealthAwareness #InvisibleDisability #TheMighty

There’s something so calming about water lilies—quiet, floating reminders to stay grounded even in deep water. I took this photo on a peaceful day, and I come back to it when I need to breathe. 🌿🌸#chronicillnesslife #MentalHealthAwareness #findingpeace #DepressionRecovery #beautyintheeveryday #onemomentatatime #Photography

There’s a kind of sadness that wraps itself around you like a velvet fog—soft, lingering, impossible to shake. I’d been moving through that fog quietly, unsure of whether I was feeling too much or not enough.

Then I heard Selena Gomez’s revival of “El Muchacho de los Ojos Tristes.” I’d never heard the original, but this song carried something eerily familiar. It didn’t just play—it echoed. It held me. It stirred something quiet and buried, a sorrow I didn’t realize was still awake inside me.

I’ve felt this before—through music that presses its hand to your chest like it’s trying to resuscitate something. This one did exactly that. It brought up unlived emotions—sentimientos compartidos—grief I didn’t know was mine but somehow felt like it belonged to me. The kind of sorrow that doesn’t ask permission—it just rises.

Since I started listening to it, melancholia has settled over me. Not just sadness—but something deeper. That slow ache that lives in your chest like a ghost of something you never had but still mourn.

I spoke to a friend about it. She said I was experiencing depression. I told her it felt like something else—something heavier, more haunting. I called it melancholia. She brushed it off, said it was all the same. But I disagreed.

Depression is absence. Numbness.

Melancholia is presence. Longing.

It’s grief laced with beauty. Pain that almost feels sacred. It’s nostalgia for a moment in time that doesn’t exist. A hunger for something you can’t name, only feel.

This song didn’t fix me. But it did something else.

It reminded me—I still have a pulse.

I’m still here. Still aching. Still hoping for something. A glance. A connection. A sign that I haven’t disappeared under the surface of my own silence.

I said this to someone:

“I feel like I am the girl with the sad eyes. Diving deeper and deeper into a melancholic state, wanting so badly to find a spark. I want my heart to be shocked back to life.”

And they told me:

“You’re not lost. You’re becoming.”

So this is me—becoming.

Still tender. Still searching. But no longer asleep.

There’s a spark out there. I don’t know what it looks like yet. But I know I want to feel it.

I used to not understand my cousin when she’d listen to sad songs while feeling low. I thought it was like pouring water on a drowning heart. But now I understand. Sometimes the saddest songs are the only ones that know how to hold us.

So if you're reading this and you feel it too, know this: You are not alone. There is no shame in aching. No weakness in longing. Feeling deeply means your heart is still beating.

Let it ache if it must. Let it rise. And when you're ready, follow the faintest flicker of hope. Even if it's just a breath. Even if it's just a song.

You're not lost.

You're becoming.

And somewhere ahead of you—maybe just beyond this fog—there’s a spark.

And this time, it’s for you.

💓💓💓

If this resonated with you, like, share and comment. We weren’t meant to feel this alone.

#melancholia #MentalHealthAwareness #Stillhere #emotionalhealing #youarenotalone #healingthroughfeeling #theacheandthehope #griefandgrowth #musicheals #SelenaGomez #elmuchachodelosojostristes #musicandmentalhealth #becomingnotbroken #quietstrength #louderthansadness #letitrise #melancholia #Stillhere #MentalHealth #mentalhealthmatters #Grief #elmuchachodelosojostristes