What do you call that inner voice that shows up as a constant worry? That quiet but persistent pit in your stomach that can paralyze your entire body from head to toe? For me, it showed up unexpectedly — during one of the first doctor’s appointments I’d ever gone to alone.
As I sat in the waiting room, scanning the medical history form, I froze when I saw the boxes asking whether I struggled with depression or anxiety. I could feel my heart pounding. My body knew the answer. My mind knew the answer. But my hand hovered in hesitation. Check, check. Why was that so hard?
The truth is, I wasn’t ready to accept those labels — or the weight I thought they carried. I was only 22. I came from a loving home, had a great job I genuinely enjoyed, a supportive partner, and a life that looked picture-perfect on the outside. So why was I struggling so much on the inside?
The Fear of the Label
There’s a lot of stigma around mental health, especially when it comes to labels like anxiety, or depression. We often feel like we have to earn them by hitting rock bottom — as if checking that box means we’ve failed or aren’t strong enough to keep it together. But that couldn’t be further from the truth.
The moment I admitted I needed help was the moment I began to take back control.
I started therapy once a week. I dreaded the day every time. Therapy didn’t feel like relief at first — it felt like digging up everything I had tried so hard to bury. I cried a lot. My anxiety got worse before it got better. But I kept showing up.
Outside of work, I felt emotionally withdrawn. I’d come home, sit in front of the TV, and feel nothing. It was like watching myself go through the motions from somewhere far away. Numb. Scared. Disconnected. I wasn’t just dealing with coping with anxiety — I was terrified of the change that comes with adulthood and identity.
My Breakthrough Moment
That’s when it hit me. I was afraid of growing up — not in the Peter Pan, never-want-to-leave-childhood kind of way, but in the real, raw, this-is-on-me-now kind of way. The decisions I made were mine to carry. The path I took was mine to walk.
And once I named that fear, I could move through it.
That was my turning point. I realized that my emotional intelligence was growing — I wasn’t broken, I was just learning how to listen to myself.
Now, I see my anxiety not as a flaw, but as a signal. A pressure gauge. If I don’t tend to the little things that trigger it, it builds up. I’ve stopped trying to outrun it. Instead, I sit with it, ask questions, and practice curiosity. Sometimes anxiety shows up for no reason at all — and that’s okay too.
My Self-Care Toolkit
Everyone’s mental health journey looks different, but here are some self-care tips that have worked for me:
- Daily routines. I start my mornings reading something inspiring and writing in a gratitude journal. It grounds me before the day begins.
- Exercise. Moving my body daily is essential. Mental and physical health are intertwined.
- Limiting refined sugar. It helps me feel clearer, calmer, and more balanced.
- Prioritizing sleep. I aim for 8–9 hours every night. It’s non-negotiable.
Whether you’re struggling with anxiety, depression, ADHD, or just feeling like something is “off,” please hear this: you are not alone. Your gut instinct is worth trusting. And asking for help isn’t shameful — it’s wise, brave, and deeply human.
Final Thoughts
There’s no manual for how to grow up. No map for how to move through each life stage with grace. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: be open to growth. Be curious. Say yes to new experiences – if they feel aligned with your goals. Trust your inner voice.
And when you find yourself in a season of heaviness — know that it will pass. You are here for a reason. This moment is here to teach you something. So soak it in. Stay present. And keep going.
You’ve got this. And you are never, ever alone.
xoxo Lisa
