Mental Health Awareness Month!

I was reading some blogs and realized that this month is both Mental Health Awareness Month and Glioblastoma (Brain Cancer) Awareness Month. It got me thinking about what mental health means to me. It is definitely a deep conversation.

I have always struggled with my mental health. By this, I mean that I have always found it challenging to prioritize my well-being, often placing others' needs before mine. I vividly remember my first anxiety attack, the moment I first questioned my mental health. It was my first night in the Navy barracks in Chicago. The weight of the world seemed to crash down on my shoulders. It was my first time away from home, in a different state, unable to run to my parents for comfort or protection. To make matters more complicated, I was surrounded by hundreds of guys while being a closeted gay man. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

I will not recount my entire life story here, but I start with the military because I realized there was an issue with how I handled life, approached problems, and cared for myself. I enlisted at eighteen and served for four years. After my service, I attended college in San Francisco, lived in the Bay Area, and eventually settled in Sacramento. These experiences span about thirty years. I am a much different person now than I was at eighteen. During a recent business trip to San Diego, I had the opportunity to take a cruise that passed by the ships that I had been stationed on. It is interesting how one tends to notice the little things in such moments. As I gazed at the ships, I found myself reflecting on how much larger they had seemed to me thirty years ago; I even felt a knot in my stomach and a bit of anxiety as I reflected on the scared eighteen-year-old boy.

Over the past thirty years, since that young man in the military, I have had numerous counseling and therapy sessions, learned to meditate, and used exercise as a therapeutic approach to managing my anxiety and panic attacks. However, everything changed when I received my terminal cancer diagnosis. It felt like I was that eighteen-year-old boy again, crying into my pillow at night so no one would hear me, trying to "butch it up" so no one would discover my secret. Since my diagnosis, I have had a few different counselors, but what has truly helped me is how I have approached my diagnosis.

Here are the five steps that have guided me:

1. Acceptance: I cannot change my diagnosis. I had to accept that my condition was incurable and come to terms with the prognosis.

2. Communication: I talk about my cancer extensively. Sometimes, I even annoy myself, but it provides an outlet to process my diagnosis.

3. Therapy: Get a therapist. You do not need to have them on speed dial or see them regularly, but it is essential to check in on your mental health. A professional can also guide you on whether medication might be necessary.

4. Support Network: Lean on your family and friends. Talk to them, cry with them, and let your emotions out.

5. Writing: I often say this—write! Even if you are not a big writer, use voice-to-text on your phone and send yourself a message. There is something therapeutic about expressing your feelings openly.

So, what does mental health mean to me? It is a state of mind. As someone who naturally cares for others, I have learned that if I am not mentally healthy, I cannot help anyone else. That is why I strive to maintain both my physical and mental well-being. I am not saying I do not still cry into a pillow or have breakdowns when everything gets overwhelming—I am human, after all. But taking care of yourself and learning to cope with what life throws at us is crucial. The steps I mentioned are just a starting point. Take the time to love yourself, celebrate yourself, and do things for yourself. I love caring for others, but I also love myself. Make sure to celebrate that.