5 Things about Mental Health we don’t talk about enough!

‘Mental health’ is a phrase we hear all the time, but what we rarely see is the messy, unphotogenic side of it. 

The part that doesn’t get all dressed up, looking pretty for Instagram. 

It’s not always therapy rooms, tidy diagnoses, or inspirational quotes on pastel coloured backdrops. 

It can be that though and for some people it has to be, but for so many of us, it’s the invisible stuff. 

Sometimes it’s staring at your toothbrush like it’s a weapon of mass destruction. 

Sometimes it’s crying in the shower because washing your hair feels like the hardest thing in the world. 

Sometimes it’s cancelling plans, switching off socials, or avoiding texts because the thought of one more interaction makes your skin crawl.

The last month & a bit for me has been heavy. 

Maybe it’s the leftover grief from July.

It’s like the whole month is a weight I carry in my chest. 

This year, August felt like the hangover from that, or maybe the grief just seeped further than I expected. 

Or maybe it’s something planetary, universal, the cosmos stirring the pot. Who knows. 

Whatever the reason, it has been one of those seasons where the black hole feels bigger than usual, swallowing everything in its path.

When you’re in that space, even though the world is full of “mental health awareness” posts and “you’re not alone” slogans, it doesn’t always land. 

It still feels lonely. 

It still feels like you’re the only one falling apart while everyone else keeps moving.

So let’s strip it back. 

Here are five things about mental health I feel are not talked about properly. 

Not the glossy magazine ready version. 

The real version. 

The one you’ll recognise if you’ve ever been there too.

1. It doesn’t always look like sadness.

When people imagine poor mental health, they picture tears. Curled up in bed with tissues. 

The movie version. 

Sometimes, that’s true. 

But often it shows up in ways that don’t look like sadness at all.

For me, it’s grief cleaning the kitchen at midnight like I’m scrubbing for my life. 

It’s snapping at the kettle because it dared to boil too slowly or yelling at the toaster when it pops!!

From the outside, I look fine. 

I’m functioning. 

I’m getting things done. 

But inside, it’s like my nervous system is a live wire. 

High functioning doesn’t equal well & I think that’s one of the most invisible parts of mental health; how easy it is to mask. 

People see you smiling at the checkout, posting a happy photo, showing up to work. 

They don’t see the spiral that happens before or after.

Maybe for you it doesn’t look like manic cleaning. 

Maybe it’s zoning out completely, or getting lost in your phone for hours, or binge watching shows just to shut your brain off. 

It doesn’t have to look like sadness to count as struggling.

2. Self care isn’t Instagram worthy.

The internet has sold us a version of self care that looks like bubble baths, face masks, yoga in linen robes, green smoothies, candles lit in every corner. 

Lovely, if that’s your reality!

But for most of us, self care looks a hell of a lot messier.

I feel real self care can look like brushing your teeth when you’d rather crawl under the doona and rot. 

It’s eating actual food when your body is screaming for the comfort of hot chips and a diet coke!

It’s dragging yourself into the shower after three days of avoiding it and then crying because the effort it took just to stand there has wiped you out.

Back before I had dreads, brushing or washing my hair could completely undo me. 

I’ve sat on the bathroom floor, brush in hand, sobbing because the thought of pulling it through my hair felt impossible. 

The weight of being alive had already taken everything from me and this one extra thing tipped me over the edge.

No one claps when you do actually complete one or more of those things. 

No one says “well done, you showered today.” But you should. 

Because in survival mode, those small acts are victories.

Maybe for you it’s opening the mail you’ve avoided for weeks. 

Maybe it’s finally doing the dishes or emptying the dishwasher.

Maybe it’s just changing your clothes. 

These things don’t look glamorous, but they matter. 

Isn’t that all self care too?

3. “You’re not alone” is both true and useless.

We’ve all heard it: you’re not alone. 

Well technically, yes, that’s true. 

But when you’re sitting in the pit, it doesn’t feel like it. 

Those words are like someone shouting encouragement from the other side of a canyon. Nice thought, but you’re still the one stuck on your side.

This past month as the black hole swirled around me, I had people who said, “We’re here for you” & I believe them. 

But when the grief or the anxiety or the darkness hits at 3am, I’m still the one lying there alone, wide awake, with my brain chewing itself alive.

What has kept me anchored is routine, is the animals I care for who don’t give a damn about my mental health. 

They still need feeding, walking, love & in some strange way, that saves me. 

Their needs pull me back into life when my instinct is to disappear. 

It doesn’t fix the pit, but it stops me from sinking deeper.

So yes, you’re not alone. 

But if those words don’t comfort you, that’s okay. 

Sometimes what really helps isn’t words at all, but anchors; the small responsibilities, the daily rituals that keep you tethered to the world when everything inside you wants to let go.

4. Social media is a landmine.

We’re told to “find community online” & sometimes it’s true - social media can connect us, make us feel seen. 

But other times? It’s a bloody landmine.

One scroll and suddenly you’re in comparison hell. 

Everyone else looks like they’re thriving, booking holidays, posting selfies with bright smiles, announcing new jobs, engagements, babies and there you are, struggling to brush your teeth. 

It can make the pit feel all the more deeper.

For me, social media is the first thing to go when I’m struggling. 

It’s not sustainable to be endlessly plugged into the highlight reels of other people’s lives when I can’t even manage the basics of my own. 

So I step away. I disappear & it’s the healthiest choice I can make.

I don’t see it as a weakness anymore. 

It’s survival. 

Silence doesn’t mean you’re failing. 

It means you’re protecting yourself. 

If scrolling encourages you to spiral, you’re allowed to step back.

5. Healing doesn’t make you immune.

This one’s a punch in the gut. 

You can do all the work - therapy, journaling, meditation, embodiment, sound journeys, shadow work. 

You can feel like you’ve really come a long way & you’re progressing steadily & happily.

Then boom.. one day, the black hole opens under your feet and swallows you again.

The internet loves to pretend healing is linear. That you’ll “do the work,” level up and then be invincible. 

That’s utter bullshit. 

Healing doesn’t make you immune to struggle. 

It gives you awareness. 

It gives you tools. 

But life can & will knock you down on occasion.

This past month has proven that for me. 

Years of deep work and I still fell apart. 

But I now recognise the difference: I know now that falling apart isn’t failure. It’s part of the cycle. 

The tools don’t erase the struggle, they just give me something to hold onto while I’m in it.

So if you’ve been working on yourself and still find yourself breaking down, hear me clearly: you’re not broken. You’re healing. You’re human.

Final Word

Mental health is messy. 

It’s not a straight fucking line. 

It doesn’t follow a neat timeline or bow to your current mood/vision board. 

It crashes in, uninvited & demands you sit with it.

Here’s what I’ve learned: being human means there will be seasons where you fall apart. 

The point isn’t to avoid them. 

The point is to survive them. 

To let yourself sit in the dark if you need to, but not to build a permanent home there.

What if survival itself counted? 

What if brushing your teeth, feeding the pets, dragging yourself through the basics was seen as enough, instead of dismissed as “bare minimum”? 

How much less alone would we all feel if we stopped pretending it’s always sunshines and fucking rainbows & admitted that sometimes it’s tears in the shower and  manic cleaning at midnight?

So no, it’s not pretty. 

But it’s real.

If you’re here, in the thick of it - you’re not weak, you’re not broken. You’re human. 

That, in itself, is most definitely enough.

Sending love ❤️‍🩹