Good evening, my dearest of friends + lovely family members! And whoever the random person from Belgium is who reads my blogs. I hope you are all having a spooky October. It’s super fun to walk around Park Slope, land of the strollers, and see Halloween decorations scattered about. This time of year always comes and goes so quickly, so it’s nice to be able to soak it in, and wear all of the oranges and greens to match with the foliage before it all falls to the ground. 

Because I am excessively candid on this platform, tonight I am going to write about prioritizing mental health and wellness—something that has almost always been at the forefront of my mind throughout my lifetime—because my anxiety is at times inescapable and suffocating and hurtful to myself and others— and yet something that I have simultaneously not seen the value in looking into, fearing that acknowledging this anxious brain made me somehow weaker or unable to prevail. 

Yet, we are inundated with horrific images of war and bloodshed on a daily basis, as suicide rates rise around the country, as the youth mental health crisis is the worst it’s ever been, I thought this topic important to discuss this evening. And World Mental Health day was yesterday, so it’s been on the mind. 

I’m nearly halfway through The Body Keeps the Score, which I consider to be a fascinating read that is essential for all humans, and I’ve learned a lot about the ways in which trauma can be held in the body, long after an incident has passed. And until that trauma is uncovered and rewired in your brain, your mind and body will continue to tell you that something is wrong when an incident triggers you again—as a means of protecting you and keeping you safe. 

I feel as though I have always treated my mind and body as separate entities. And as I begin to realize that both are equally deserving of my attention because if one falters, the other does too, it’s making me think differently about how mental wellness and physical wellness are inextricably connected. 

I only came to this realization when I was describing to my therapist what I think about during a panic attack. What drives it, what motivates me, how it comes on and goes away. And then she asked me, “What does your body do?”

I stopped in my thoughts. I had no idea what my body was telling me during these moments — I am often so clouded by my internal monologue that I am ignoring the physical sensations. But there’s no denying the restlessness, the inability to sleep through the night, the constant nail biting, chewing on the inside of my mouth, the list goes on. My body is talking to me, telling me there are things I need to address. I am so lost in thinking and thinking again that I don’t hear it. 

Strong eating habits, healthy sleeping schedules, cleaning yourself—all are considered to be fundamental aspects of maintaining physical wellness. And yet it is all mental. 

I don’t know if I’m saying anything that is particularly groundbreaking for any of you, but it was eye-opening for me. As someone who was not exposed to any sort of mental health curriculum growing up, as someone who thought of a diagnosis like ADHD (which I have) and thought of a young, restless teenage boy rather than a young girl who is too often lost in her own brain, and as someone who did not give herself time and space for addressing the root of her poor mental health until well past a breaking point, this was all valuable for me to understand and process. 

There’s a lot going on in our lives and our world, and it can feel all too overwhelming most days. There’s a certain helplessness that bubbles up when it comes to things that feel out of our control, too big for us to take on on our own, especially when it feels as though we are screaming to political figures who choose to cover their ears. 

So, all I can ask of you, and all that you should do for yourself, is to be gentle. To try to locate that peace of mind for yourself, even when it feels impossible to find—trying and failing is better than not trying at all. Because then you learn what doesn’t work, and that’s half the battle. 

There’s a lot that can be solved if we all talk openly and freely about our emotions with one another. You don’t need to save that just for your partner, or your therapist, or even your parents. Be honest with everyone around you. You’re not solving anything by keeping it to yourself and allowing your mind to live in an endless cycle of trauma. 

I love you! We can trudge on, together. Promise.