Mental Health Matters: My Journey With Self-Care.

For a long time, I didn’t give my mental health the attention it deserved. I thought being strong meant pushing through, keeping busy, and not letting anyone see me struggle. Like many people, I equated strength with silence. If I just worked harder, trained longer, and kept smiling, I believed no one would see the cracks forming underneath. But eventually, I hit a wall. No matter how much I poured into my physical health, I couldn’t ignore the heaviness inside. That was when I realized that if I wanted to truly heal and grow, I had to start treating my mental health as just as important as my physical health.

At first, I didn’t know what that looked like. Therapy wasn’t something I jumped into right away. Instead, I had to find ways to give myself an outlet. Two things made a real difference for me: journaling and freestyle dancing.

Journaling became my mirror. Putting my thoughts on paper forced me to face them instead of burying them. I wrote about everything — pain, fear, hope, and the moments I didn’t want to admit to anyone else. Sometimes I would read back over my own words and realize patterns I hadn’t noticed before. Other times, it was simply a release — a way to put down what I couldn’t carry in my head anymore.

Freestyle dancing gave me another kind of healing. Dance has always been a part of me, but when I stopped worrying about choreography and just let my body move, it became something deeper. It was like my body had a language of its own, expressing emotions my words couldn’t capture. I moved through sadness, anger, joy, and even numbness — and every time, I came out feeling a little lighter.

As time went on, I began to understand that mental health wasn’t just about finding ways to cope when things felt dark. It was about building a foundation — habits and practices that kept me grounded no matter what life threw at me. I started paying attention to my mornings, realizing how much the first hour of my day shaped the rest of it. Writing, training, and even moments of silence became rituals that gave me clarity and focus. Fitness wasn’t just about my body anymore — it was about giving my mind structure, discipline, and release. Coaching others started to do the same thing. Helping clients with their goals reminded me that we’re all carrying something, and that connection can be healing in itself.

The biggest shift for me has been letting go of the idea that taking care of my mental health makes me weak. It doesn’t. It makes me honest. Strength isn’t about pretending everything is fine — it’s about facing the days when it isn’t and choosing not to give up. It’s about saying, “Yes, this is heavy,” and then finding ways to move through it instead of getting stuck in it.

What I know now is that my journey with mental health is ongoing. It’s not something I’ll ever “finish” or perfect, and that’s okay. What matters is that I have tools, habits, and outlets that help me stay connected to myself. Some days that’s journaling. Other days it’s dancing, boxing, training, or simply resting. And sometimes it’s reaching out to the people who remind me I don’t have to carry everything alone.

If you’re reading this and struggling, I want you to know something: healing doesn’t look the same for everyone. It doesn’t always mean therapy or meditation or journaling. It means finding your outlets — the practices that feel real to you. It means giving yourself permission to feel, to release, and to start again.

Taking care of your mental health isn’t about becoming perfect. It’s about becoming whole.