Latest news with #NationalInstituteofMentalHealth
Straits Times
a day ago
- Health
- Straits Times
The unexpected symptoms of OCD
Obsessive-compulsive disorder involves a set of obsessions and compulsions that causes great distress and affects people's quality of life. PHOTO: VANESSA SABA/NYTIMES NEW YORK – When most people think of obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) , they may picture behaviours they have seen on TV – like repetitive hand-washing, flicking light switches on and off, and meticulously arranging small items over and over. But the disorder manifests in many other ways. Some patients obsess over thoughts that they might hurt someone, while others fixate on certain aspects of their personal relationships. American comedienne Maria Bamford, for example, has called her OCD 'unwanted thoughts syndrome'. On talk show The Late Show With Stephen Colbert, she shared a story about how she could not stop thinking horrific thoughts about her family members. On social media, people describe many types of obsessions and compulsions: 'relationship OCD', 'sexual orientation OCD', 'emotional contamination OCD'. These are not separate diagnoses, but different expressions of the same disorder – much like how people with phobias can suffer from different fears, said Dr Carolyn Rodriguez, an OCD expert and professor of psychiatry and behavioural sciences at Stanford Medicine. Understanding these distinctions can help clinicians tailor a precise treatment plan, she added. And they are important for the public to grasp as well. Otherwise, people who experience the disorder might not recognise that they have it, Dr Rodriguez said. People who are fearful of harming others might think, 'Maybe I am a murderer', she added. 'If I tell anybody these things, I'm going to be put in jail.' Here is what to know about the diverse ways that OCD shows up. First, what is OCD? OCD involves a set of obsessions and compulsions that causes great distress and affects people's quality of life. Obsessions can include unwanted intrusive thoughts, images or urges that dominate the mind. Compulsions are repetitive actions that people take in response to their obsessions to try to help themselves feel better. These symptoms can be time-consuming, lasting for at least an hour a day, according to the diagnostic manual used by mental health practitioners. If someone worries excessively that he or she will set the house on fire by accidentally leaving the stove on, for instance, he or she might check again and again to make sure the knobs are in the off position. About 2.3 per cent of American adults are estimated to have had OCD at some point in their lifetime, according to the United States' National Institute of Mental Health . Women are more likely to receive a diagnosis than men. More research is needed to further understand the origins of OCD, which is thought to have genetic and environmental causes. What are the different types of OCD? While all people with the disorder have obsessions and compulsions, 'OCD across patients is almost never exactly the same', said Dr Jeremy Tyler, co-chief of ambulatory psychiatry at the Perelman School of Medicine at the University of Pennsylvania. People with OCD can differ in many ways, including whether they have tics – involuntary, repetitive movements or vocalisations. Patients also vary in their degree of insight – their level of awareness of being ill – as well as in how they feel when their symptoms are triggered. Another way patients differ is in the content of their obsessions and compulsions. Concerns about contamination, a need for symmetry or order, forbidden or taboo thoughts, and a fear of harming others or yourself are common themes, said Dr Helen Blair Simpson, a psychiatry professor and OCD researcher at Columbia University. The International OCD Foundation lists other themes as well, including sexual thoughts; fixations on relationships; worries that tie into responsibility, like being responsible for something terrible happening; and fears related to perfectionism, like showing excessive worry about making mistakes. Patients and therapists have labelled some of these themes in online forums, coining terms like 'symmetry and order OCD' and 'perfectionism OCD'. Creating names for different expressions of OCD may help sufferers feel less alone, Dr Rodriguez said. Often, more than one theme can be present at the same time, and the content of a person's obsession or compulsion can change over the course of the disorder, experts said. How is OCD treated? OCD is typically treated with an antidepressant, exposure and response prevention therapy, or both. Therapy involves asking patients to experience their stress and anxiety without performing a compulsive act in response. Therapists will also encourage patients to allow their obsessions to surface rather than continually try to push them away. It is particularly important for therapists to know someone's 'type' when carrying out exposure and response prevention therapy, because clinicians can then ensure their patients are being exposed to the precise type of situations that typically stir up their obsessions, Dr Tyler noted. 'I eat food off the ground with people; I hold knives with people,' he said. It may sound wild, he added, but in the process, patients learn that the thing they fear most is not likely to happen. NYTIMES Join ST's Telegram channel and get the latest breaking news delivered to you.
Refinery29
2 days ago
- Health
- Refinery29
My Black Family Couldn't Hold My Anxiety — So I Learned To Tend To It Myself
In late 2022, a series of debilitating panic attacks pulled me under and changed everything. I didn't know it at the time, but seven years after leaving a volatile and abusive relationship — one marked by physical, emotional and psychological harm — I was finally breaking open. The trauma I'd carried in my body was boiling over and asking to be tended to. Spiritually, emotionally and physically — I was unravelling. By early 2023, I'd been diagnosed with panic disorder with agoraphobia, and I made the difficult decision to return to my family's home in South Florida to heal. According to the National Institute of Mental Health, "panic disorder is an anxiety disorder characterised by unexpected and repeated episodes of intense fear accompanied by physical symptoms that may include chest pain, heart palpitations, shortness of breath, dizziness or abdominal distress." I thought going home might bring relief. Familiarity. Maybe even softness. I also saw it as an opportunity to finally leave my 15-year digital media career and fully step into my path as a wellness entrepreneur, pivoting to work rooted in healing, embodiment and spiritual care. But instead, I found myself in a house thick with tension, layered with unspoken resentment and unresolved trauma between family members. What was supposed to be a season of rest became an emotional pressure cooker. I wasn't just trying to manage panic attacks. I was trying to find peace in a space that didn't feel emotionally safe. Living with anxiety — especially panic with agoraphobia — in a family that doesn't talk about it is a strange kind of exile. And I know I'm not alone. In many Black households, mental health isn't something we name, but something we endure. Even when the signs are there, they're often misunderstood or dismissed. We're told we're being dramatic. Overreacting. Too sensitive. Too angry. Too much. That we're 'sick.' That supporting us is stressful. That something's 'wrong' with us. During moments when we appear high-functioning, our anxiety is questioned entirely—we seem 'just fine' or must be 'making it up.' And when the conversations do happen, they're often missing the very things we need most: nuance, depth, compassion and care. Meanwhile, we're quietly unravelling inside. My panic attacks can be unpredictable and paralysing, taking so much out of me. Even after one ends, I need days to recover—days when I often pretend I'm okay to avoid being met with discomfort or confusion. What many don't understand is that my anxiety isn't about being outside itself—I love being outside. It's about feeling vulnerable in environments where I don't feel safe or where escape doesn't feel possible. Crowded spaces, being stuck in traffic, overstimulating places with no clear exit—these can all be triggers, and they're rooted in trauma. ' In many Black households, mental health isn't something we name, but something we endure. Even when the signs are there, they're often misunderstood or dismissed. ' Masking that reality only deepens the isolation, and trying to heal in a space where emotional transparency isn't the norm has forced me to become my own sanctuary. While that kind of self-soothing is sacred, it's also exhausting. My therapist once told me, 'If you can thrive here, you can thrive anywhere.' And she was right. The fact that I was still showing up for my work—still creating, still tending to myself in the midst of it all — felt like a testament to the resilience so many Black women and femmes are forced to cultivate in the absence of emotional safety. What I've come to understand is that my experience isn't just personal; it's generational. The emotional distance I feel in my family is part of a larger inheritance shaped by survival. Our elders didn't always have the tools or language to name anxiety, much less tend to it. They had to keep going. Be strong. Push through. And those necessary survival tactics often get passed down as emotional avoidance, hyper-independence and the denial of rest and vulnerability. In our homes, strength is often measured by how well we can endure and not by how well we can feel. So when we begin to name our pain — to say 'this isn't sustainable,' or 'I don't have the capacity for this,' or 'I really need some space right now' — we disrupt the pattern. We become the mirror. And that can be deeply uncomfortable for everyone involved. It doesn't mean we'll be met with understanding. Sometimes, we're met with silence. Or discomfort. Or deflection. Sometimes, we're told we're making everything about ourselves just for advocating for our well-being. And that can hurt. Especially when you were hoping for something different. There have been moments when I've felt disappointed and angry. I had hoped for more emotional presence and attunement. But through reflection, therapy and my own spiritual practice, I've come to recognise the larger pattern at play. Our families are often doing the best they can with what they've inherited. Their limitations aren't personal, but are part of a lineage of coping mechanisms passed down for generations. ' Healing doesn't always come through the apology we never received or the conversation we never had. Sometimes, it looks like tending to ourselves. ' Still, acknowledging that doesn't mean we have to abandon our needs. What I've learned is that healing doesn't always come through the apology we never received or the conversation we never had. Sometimes, it looks like tending to ourselves so fully that we no longer need permission to feel, rest or be held. It means finding spaces where we are seen and supported. Where softness isn't shameful, but sacred. To the Black women and femmes navigating mental health in households that can't hold your truth: I see you. I wrote this for us. And I want you to know that you are not too much. You are simply carrying what your lineage was never taught how to hold. And by facing it, you are doing holy work. We may not be able to change our families. But we can change how we care for ourselves. We can break cycles by living the softness we need. By trusting our emotional truths. By building new communities where our full humanity is honoured, not just for survival, but for joy. The peace I was searching for when I came home didn't look the way I imagined. It wasn't always handed to me by the people I love. But piece by piece, through boundaries and breath, through tears and tending, I'm learning to become that peace myself. To hold space for the softness they couldn't give. To build a life where my nervous system can exhale. To remember that I am not too much. That I was never meant to shrink or dilute my emotions to make others comfortable. If you're going through something similar, I'm claiming that you'll reach that space, too. I'm holding the vision for that kind of peace for you, because it is possible, no matter how things feel right now.
Yahoo
3 days ago
- General
- Yahoo
Still vexed — an overview of anxiety and depression
In 2018, the Deseret News published a series called Generation Vexed, exploring and detailing the then-growing scope of teenage anxiety in the United States. It was already well on the rise even before the pandemic, the land wars that broke out in the Middle East and Europe, and the political schism of the 2020 election. Approximately 1 million teenagers struggled with anxiety, and experts at the time estimated that nearly 1 in 4 had some form of an anxiety disorder, with that ratio going up to nearly 1 in 3 when just girls were considered. Census data from 2015 'estimated more than 17 million (children) had already experienced a diagnosable mental disorder,' the Deseret News reported. That number was 'the equivalent of the entire populations of Utah, Idaho, Arizona and Colorado' combined. That was just teenagers, and just the disorder of anxiety — and that was seven years ago. Anxiety is still rising. From 2018 through the first two years of the pandemic in 2022, anxiety rates for all Americans went up by over 16%, and depression rates by over 15%. In 2023, the American Psychiatric Association said that more than a third of all adults felt more anxious than they did the year before. Then, when it did the same study last year, the number of adults reporting that they felt more anxiety jumped to 43%. For perhaps a brief moment, 2023's number seemed small by comparison. Today, the National Institute of Mental Health reports that some 40 million Americans have anxiety disorders — nearly one-fifth of the total U.S. population — and more than 14 million suffer from depression. That is another mental health disorder that has steadily been rising, with 29% of all Americans experiencing depression, according to Gallup, up from 19% eight years earlier. Now, the NIH research suggests that 21 million people in the U.S. will experience a depressive episode in their lifetimes. Mental Health America, a nonprofit dedicated to mental health and prevention, published a report that says 46% of Americans will at some point confront a mental-health-related disorder. Those numbers, while shocking, are not as surprising to encounter in 2025 as they may have been even a few years ago. That's because, while there are more people experiencing disorders such as anxiety and depression, general awareness of broader mental health issues has risen, too. According to Michele Nealon, a psychologist and president of the Chicago School of Professional Psychology, writing for the United Nations in 2021, the pandemic 'accelerated positive momentum in our communities to raise awareness about these issues and increased accessibility to crucial support and services for those affected.' Talking about mental health — interpersonally, on the news, social media or via the numerous celebrities who often show support (including Michelle Obama, Demi Lovato, Simone Biles, Prince Harry and Dwayne Johnson) — has become so common that the cause and effect of anxiety and depression are beginning to look like the chicken and the egg question to some, too. The BBC reported earlier this year that experts in England are now openly debating if the proliferation of awareness has actually caused more young people to self-diagnose, which results in 'over-pathologising distress.' The argument is that, rather than learning resilience, some are diagnosing what might be the normal discomfort of growing up as anxiety or depression. Regardless of the possible pitfalls, the pandemic had one recognizable silver lining, Nealon wrote: it 'resulted in more open dialogue on, and greater knowledge of, mental health than ever before.' This is not to say that stigma no longer exists; it does. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has a webpage that was updated in January of 2025, explaining and contextualizing the ways people with mental health disorders are made to feel stigma — the negative sentiment, shame or disgrace leveled onto an action or behavior. It included structural stigma, where institutions are not prepared to support those with them; public stigma that comes from individuals and groups judgmental toward mental health issues; and even self-stigma, where someone with a mental health issue 'may believe they are flawed or blame themselves for having the condition.' All of which is why experts say it's so important to keep talking about the resources that exist for people who are experiencing anxiety and depression. Not just in order to combat the stigma that individuals, communities, cultures and organizations may have, but also the sheer volume of those who are already experiencing anxiety and depression and need to know how and where to find help for a legitimate and pressing health concern. There are resources that exist, and — as always — much more to learn. It's a topic that's been investigated, it turns out, since the days of ancient Greece and Rome. The first known medical reference to mental health disorders like anxiety or depression is within the texts attributed to Hippocrates from ancient Greece. They describe a subject named Nicanor who's stricken with an irrational fear — a phobia — of the woman who plays the flute at the symposium. Hearing the music played at night, Nicanor would have panic attacks, yet he was unaffected when he encountered the same flutist during the day. Its inclusion by one of modern medicine's founders made clear that mental disorders had long been considered health issues. Ancient Roman thinkers investigated the variations of mental disorders more specifically. It was Cicero, the Roman statesman and stoic philosopher, who carved out the notion of anxiety and depression — separately — and sought to solve them. 'In some there is a continual anxiety, owing to which they are anxious … for all are not anxious who are sometimes vexed, nor are they who are anxious always uneasy in that manner,' he wrote in 45 B.C. According to Marc-Antoine Crocq, a psychiatrist, who wrote 'A history of anxiety: from Hippocrates to DSM' in the scientific journal Dialogues in Clinical Neuroscience, Cicero's arguments come from a book written after his daughter's untimely death and was 'a plea for Stoicism, a branch of philosophy that is one of the pillars of today's cognitive therapy.' Kathleen Evans, of Griffin University in Australia, suggested that Cicero's whole book was indicative of a 'major depressive episode' for the great ancient philosopher. His work may have been a means for him to navigate the struggles of his own life. Another stoic called Seneca, wrote Crocq, 'taught his contemporaries how to achieve freedom from anxiety in his book 'Of Peace of Mind.'' Later, Seneca suggested in another of his treatises that people should stay present in their day-to-day lives, previewing thousands of years ago what is now commonly referred to as 'living in the moment.' Depression was long called by the other name of 'melancholia,' especially so during the period between the late 1700s and the late 1800s. It was defined as 'a disorder of intellect or judgment, a 'partial insanity' often, but not always, associated with sadness,' wrote Kenneth S. Kendler, of Virginia Commonwealth University. He wrote that it was a 'mood disorder.' That name, itself, helps to understand why there is some lasting stigma felt today by folks whose lives and work are disrupted by their depression as if it is a matter of mood, rather than a debilitating health disorder. Not until the German psychiatrist Emil Kraepelin began using the word 'depressive' to describe elements of 'melancholia' in the late 1900s did its name change to what we know today. That definition and symptoms have changed, too. While it is common for people to feel sad or low in the course of their days, depression manifests itself with more pronounced symptoms, some of which include feeling down, empty, pessimistic or hopeless. Those experiencing depression report feeling tired, lacking in pleasure or interest in the things they care about, difficulty concentrating and trouble sleeping, among many others. Though not always, some also report suicidal thoughts. Understandably, these feelings often implicate behaviors and moods — the poor descriptor from the Victorian period raising its ugly head — like anger, restlessness, a tendency to isolate or a struggle to manage responsibilities. The list of symptoms is long, and not everyone who has depression exhibits all of those that are published by the National Institutes of Health, the Mayo Clinic, or any of other national and local agencies. Additionally, age plays a role in which symptoms are more or less pronounced, as does gender. There are a kaleidoscope of different possible symptoms — many of which everyone feels at some point or other in the course of their lives — and it makes it difficult to determine when one is momentary and another a disorder. If someone is feeling any of these symptoms for prolonged periods, they should speak to their regular medical care provider about it or call one of the local or national hotlines published with this article to discuss their specific circumstances. Taking advantage of available resources and learning more is the first step to care. To help someone who may not have recognized these symptoms for themselves, Harvard Health suggests encouraging that person to use the resources or seek help, or a softer touch might be to offer emotional support. The symptoms of anxiety — just like Cicero suggested a couple millennia ago — are not necessarily unique to those who suffer from an anxiety disorder. Most people will feel some version of what we understand anxiety to be at some point in their lives. It could be before starting a new school, prior to a test, a date or a job interview, or even when rent and other bills are due. To a certain extent, anxiety is a regular part of most lives, which makes its disorder also hard to firmly categorize and understand. The Mayo Clinic explains the disorder as an escalation of the common occurrences of anxiety. 'People with anxiety disorders frequently have intense, excessive and persistent worry and fear about everyday situations,' its website reads. Those symptoms show up as constant worry, elevated heart rates, fear, trouble sleeping, feeling a sense of looming issue or problems. There are also many different permutations of anxiety that also exhibit these symptoms. These issues can lead to other health issues or even depression itself. If someone is uncertain, they should also discuss the matter with their regular health care provider or one of the national hotlines. The treatment for both begins with asking questions and seeking help, no matter how certain or uncertain someone might be. Part of that seeking of help, too, can be speaking with your friends, family, clergy or teachers. The ancient Greek and Roman philosophers asked each other these bigger questions about their minds and health at the lyceum in order to reach reasonable conclusions, and it turns out that many of them are still in place. Today, we have doctors, phone and text hotlines, and our respective loved ones to seek out more and better information about anxiety and depression. The more we know, too, the less likely we are to judge or to suffer needlessly from anxiety or depression. Seneca wrote that 'there are more things … likely to frighten us than there are to crush us; we suffer more often in imagination than in reality.' If you need help, please refer to this document for contacts that can speak over the phone or text in either moments of crisis or those who need support. You can always call or text the national Disaster Distress Hotline at 1-800-985-5990 (para Español: Llama o envía un mensaje de texto 1-800-985-5990 presiona '2.'). If you're in Utah, Huntsman Mental Health Institute lists several ways to get help for a mental health crisis: University of Utah community crisis intervention and support services: 801-587-3000. Text or call Suicide & Crisis Lifeline: 988. Utah Crisis Line: 1-800-273-TALK (8255). Walk-in crisis center for adults: 955 W. 3300 South, South Salt Lake. Utah Warm Line: 8 a.m. to 11 p.m. 1-833-773-2588 (SPEAKUT) or 801-587-1055. For parents, teachers and educators: SAFEUT Crisis Chat & Tip Line, download the app or call 833-372-3388. For active National Guard members, their family and civilian personnel: download SafeUTNG app or call 833-372-3364 (SAFENG).
Yahoo
3 days ago
- General
- Yahoo
Getting help: neurodiversity, aging, addiction and mental illness
The National Institute of Mental Health counts mental illnesses among common maladies not just in the U.S., but around the world, estimating that as much as 23% of the adult U.S. population faces mental challenges. Approximately 53 million Americans are family caregivers, providing varying degrees of support to relatives and loved ones because of disease, disability or simple frailty. Last October, the Columbia University Mailman School of Public Health and Otsuka America Pharmaceutical did a study that concluded that if family caregiving was a business, 'it would be the largest revenue-generating company in the world,' providing $873.5 billion worth of labor each year. Close to 40% of that is due to Alzheimer's disease or dementia care, though only a quarter of those caregivers face that particular challenge. Neurodiversity, addiction, aging and mental health are all issues with some challenges where families may find they need some help or suggestions or simply access to a support group. A few weeks ago, a team of Deseret News reporters set out to explore some of the issues impacting families across that spectrum of issues. Today, we offer those stories with links in case you missed them earlier. The importance of sensory awareness with autism Learning disorders and decades of progress Attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder and new approaches Why caregivers can't do it all alone Aging well: preserving your brain with food, exercise and sleep What we're learning about Alzheimer's disease Anxiety and depression are very, very old problems How states are tackling social media and smartphone use in schools What do you do with debilitating fear? Healing addiction through power of community, compassion and hope. How addiction impacts the brain
Refinery29
6 days ago
- Health
- Refinery29
My Black Family Couldn't Hold My Anxiety—So I Learned To Tend To It Myself
In late 2022, a series of debilitating panic attacks pulled me under and changed everything. I didn't know it at the time, but seven years after leaving a volatile and abusive relationship —one marked by physical, emotional and psychological harm — I was finally breaking open. The trauma I'd carried in my body was boiling over and asking to be tended to. Spiritually, emotionally and physically —I was unraveling. By early 2023, I'd been diagnosed with panic disorder with agoraphobia, and I made the difficult decision to return to my family's home in South Florida to heal. According to the National Institute of Mental Health, "panic disorder is an anxiety disorder characterized by unexpected and repeated episodes of intense fear accompanied by physical symptoms that may include chest pain, heart palpitations, shortness of breath, dizziness or abdominal distress." I thought going home might bring relief. Familiarity. Maybe even softness. I also saw it as an opportunity to finally leave my 15-year digital media career and fully step into my path as a wellness entrepreneur, pivoting to work rooted in healing, embodiment and spiritual care. But instead, I found myself in a house thick with tension, layered with unspoken resentment and unresolved trauma between family members. What was supposed to be a season of rest became an emotional pressure cooker. I wasn't just trying to manage panic attacks. I was trying to find peace in a space that didn't feel emotionally safe. Living with anxiety—especially panic with agoraphobia—in a family that doesn't talk about it is a strange kind of exile. And I know I'm not alone. In many Black households, mental health isn't something we name, but something we endure. Even when the signs are there, they're often misunderstood or dismissed. We're told we're being dramatic. Overreacting. Too sensitive. Too angry. Too much. That we're 'sick.' That supporting us is stressful. That something's 'wrong' with us. During moments when we appear high-functioning, our anxiety is questioned entirely—we seem 'just fine' or must be 'making it up.' And when the conversations do happen, they're often missing the very things we need most: nuance, depth, compassion and care. Meanwhile, we're quietly unraveling inside. My panic attacks can be unpredictable and paralyzing, taking so much out of me. Even after one ends, I need days to recover—days when I often pretend I'm okay to avoid being met with discomfort or confusion. What many don't understand is that my anxiety isn't about being outside itself—I love being outside. It's about feeling vulnerable in environments where I don't feel safe or where escape doesn't feel possible. Crowded spaces, being stuck in traffic, overstimulating places with no clear exit—these can all be triggers, and they're rooted in trauma. ' In many Black households, mental health isn't something we name, but something we endure. Even when the signs are there, they're often misunderstood or dismissed. ' Masking that reality only deepens the isolation, and trying to heal in a space where emotional transparency isn't the norm has forced me to become my own sanctuary. While that kind of self-soothing is sacred, it's also exhausting. My therapist once told me, 'If you can thrive here, you can thrive anywhere.' And she was right. The fact that I was still showing up for my work—still creating, still tending to myself in the midst of it all—felt like a testament to the resilience so many Black women and femmes are forced to cultivate in the absence of emotional safety. What I've come to understand is that my experience isn't just personal; it's generational. The emotional distance I feel in my family is part of a larger inheritance shaped by survival. Our elders didn't always have the tools or language to name anxiety, much less tend to it. They had to keep going. Be strong. Push through. And those necessary survival tactics often get passed down as emotional avoidance, hyper-independence and the denial of rest and vulnerability. In our homes, strength is often measured by how well we can endure and not by how well we can feel. So when we begin to name our pain—to say 'this isn't sustainable,' or 'I don't have the capacity for this,' or 'I really need some space right now' —we disrupt the pattern. We become the mirror. And that can be deeply uncomfortable for everyone involved. It doesn't mean we'll be met with understanding. Sometimes, we're met with silence. Or discomfort. Or deflection. Sometimes, we're told we're making everything about ourselves just for advocating for our well-being. And that can hurt. Especially when you were hoping for something different. There have been moments when I've felt disappointed and angry. I had hoped for more emotional presence, more attunement. But through reflection, therapy and my own spiritual practice, I've come to recognize the larger pattern at play. Our families are often doing the best they can with what they've inherited. Their limitations aren't personal, but are part of a lineage of coping mechanisms passed down for generations. ' Healing doesn't always come through the apology we never received or the conversation we never had. Sometimes, it looks like tending to ourselves. ' Still, acknowledging that doesn't mean we have to abandon our needs. What I've learned is that healing doesn't always come through the apology we never received or the conversation we never had. Sometimes, it looks like tending to ourselves so fully that we no longer need permission to feel, rest or be held. It means finding spaces where we are seen and supported. Where softness isn't shameful, but sacred. To the Black women and femmes navigating mental health in households that can't hold your truth: I see you. I wrote this for us. And I want you to know that you are not too much. You are simply carrying what your lineage was never taught how to hold. And by facing it, you are doing holy work. We may not be able to change our families. But we can change how we care for ourselves. We can break cycles by living the softness we need. By trusting our emotional truths. By building new communities where our full humanity is honored, not just for survival, but for joy. The peace I was searching for when I came home didn't look the way I imagined. It wasn't always handed to me by the people I love. But piece by piece, through boundaries and breath, through tears and tending, I'm learning to become that peace myself. To hold space for the softness they couldn't give. To build a life where my nervous system can exhale. To remember that I am not too much. That I was never meant to shrink or dilute my emotions to make others comfortable. If you're going through something similar, I'm claiming that you'll reach that space, too. I'm holding the vision for that kind of peace for you, because it is possible, no matter how things feel right now.
