by Kayla Myers, Peer Support coordinator

June 24, 2025

I’m a mom of boys, loud, messy, hilarious, curious, deep-feeling boys.

And if I’m honest, one of my greatest hopes, besides them eventually learning to do their laundry and clean up after themselves, is that they grow into men who feel safe being whole. Not just strong or stoic or successful. But soft when they need to be. Honest. Vulnerable. Supported.

Because here’s the truth, one I’ve heard from every mom of boys and quietly carried myself: the world still struggles to let our sons be fully human.

We tell our kids, “It’s okay to cry,” but somewhere between kindergarten and manhood, that message gets lost. Replaced by phrases like “man up,” “don’t be soft,” and “real men don’t talk about their feelings.” And those words don’t just bounce off; they sink in. They settle deep.

As moms, we see their hearts before the world tells them to hide them. We see the quiet anxiety before the tough-guy mask forms. We know the pressure they carry in silence, the self-doubt buried behind humor, the frustration when they don’t have the words to explain what’s going on inside.

June is Men’s Mental Health Awareness Month. And if it reminds me of anything, it’s this:

We don’t just need to raise good men.
We need to raise whole men.

Men who know it's okay to ask for help.
Men who’ve had practice expressing what they feel.
Men who’ve seen someone care about what’s happening beneath the surface.

Here’s what I’m doing, or I should say, what I’m trying, daily:

• I ask them how they’re feeling, and I try not to rush past the silence.
• I talk about therapy like it’s normal, because it is.
• I praise emotional honesty just as much as achievements.
• I work on asking for help myself, because they’re always watching.

In my eyes, no boy should grow up believing his feelings make him weak.

So, whether you're a parent, an aunt, a coach, a teacher, or a friend, be part of the voice that says:

You don’t have to pretend you're okay when you’re not.
You’re not less of a man for needing support.
You’re more of one for knowing when to reach out.

To my sons, and all the boys growing into men:
Your mind matters.
Your emotions matter.
You matter.

Let’s raise them to believe it.

(Edited and Enhanced with ChatGPT)

Written by Kayla Myer
Edited and Enhanced by ChatGPT

February 25, 2025

Every year as winter approaches, I start to dread the days ahead. Even before summer or fall has ended, I find myself mourning their passing while still living in those seasons. I know the days will soon grow shorter and the nights longer, and I brace myself for the arrival of the infamous "winter blues." Whether it's the colder weather, the lack of sunlight, or the post-holiday slump, this time of year can be particularly challenging for my mental health. As a peer supporter, I’ve had the privilege of walking alongside others through difficult seasons, and I know firsthand how real and heavy these feelings can be. But the good news? We don’t have to face them alone.

The "winter blues" is a common term used to describe the seasonal dip in mood that many people experience. For some, it can manifest as mild sadness, fatigue, or irritability. For others, it may develop into something more severe, such as Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), a form of depression triggered by seasonal changes. While the severity varies, the struggle is real, and acknowledging it is the first step toward finding relief (generated using ChatGPT).

For myself, once I started to understand how the “winter blues” manifested in me, I was able to implement my wellness tools into moments that felt daunting. Over the years, I’ve learned that small, intentional actions can make a big difference. Here are some approaches that have helped both myself and those I support:

1. Embrace the Light

Sunlight plays a crucial role in regulating our mood. If you can, try to get outside during daylight hours, even if it’s just for a short walk. If natural sunlight is scarce, consider using a light therapy lamp, which can help mimic the benefits of natural light and improve mood.

2. Stay Active

Exercise is a powerful mood booster. It doesn’t have to be intense, even gentle movements like yoga, stretching, or a short dance session can help release endorphins and combat sluggishness.

3. Connect with Others

Isolation often worsens the winter blues. Reaching out to my support system helps me stay grounded. Even a simple text, phone call, or video chat can lift my spirits and remind me that I’m not alone.

4. Nourish Your Body and Mind

What we eat can impact how we feel. Incorporating nutrient-rich foods into my diet, including vitamins, and whole foods that fuel my body. Equally important, nourish your mind. I practice mindfulness, gratitude, or journaling to process my emotions.

5. Create Comforting Rituals

Small moments of joy can make a huge difference. Whether it’s lighting a scented candle, wrapping up in a warm blanket with a good book or watching a show, or listening to uplifting music, I try to find little ways to bring warmth and comfort into my daily routine.

6. Seek Support When Needed

I don’t take these helpful tips lightly because I know how hard it can be to implement them when my brain feels heavy. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, the weight of the winter blues can feel overwhelming. And that’s okay. If your feelings persist or become too difficult to manage, don’t hesitate to seek support. There is strength in asking for help.

One of the most important things I’ve learned as a peer supporter is the power of shared experiences. No matter how isolating the winter blues may feel, you are not alone in this struggle. There is a community of people who understand, care, and are willing to walk this journey with you. So, as we navigate these colder, darker months together, let’s lean on one another, embrace small victories, and remember that brighter days are ahead. Spring always follows winter, and in the meantime, we can find warmth in connection, self-care, and hope. If you’re feeling down this season, reach out. To a friend, a peer supporter, a mental health professional, or whoever is your support system. You deserve support, and you are worth the effort it takes to care for yourself.

By Kayla Myers, Family Peer Supporter

March 11, 2024

I had a revelation recently and am still unsure how to correct this coping mechanism I acquired on my journey through life. I guess at this point acknowledging and identifying this within myself is currently the stage I am in. So, I thought this would be a good way to reflect through writing and see if any more revelations transpire my growth. “Carpe Diem” is a Latin term meaning “Seize the day”. This can inspire the idea of living in the moment or for today, so we aren’t wasting what little time we have on this earth worrying about what has already happened or what is to come.

I was recently re-exposed to the idea of perfectionism. Identifying as someone who struggled with perfectionism didn’t ring true for me when I heard this idea brought up long ago. To me perfectionism meant you kept your spaces tidy, and your hair and makeup were always done, you were an overachiever, and things had to be perfect in your mind until you could be proud of yourself or the work you accomplished. I do not need things to be perfect to live a life that feels good to me. But when we dove into the layers of perfectionism, something hit me like a ton of bricks. I realized that I had this invisible report card inside of me where I was being graded and I was the one grading myself. I have zero idea of what I am being graded on or my expectations for myself, but it's there. How can I live up to this potential of a bogus scoring system that I allowed to control my self-worth and not offer myself grace when I don’t succeed? I feel like I owe myself an apology for setting such unfair terms to measure my success and when I fail, my worth always crumbles in my hands.

I have always been a kind soul. The one that roots for the underdog and wants to believe that we are all good underneath the layers of our lives and journeys that either left us better or battered. We are all trying to do the best job we know how to do with the tools we have in our toolkits. I offer grace and understanding to everyone around me and keep in mind that I have zero idea about the battles they are fighting every day. All these things come so naturally to me, but I have a hard time offering these same ideas to myself. I am hard on myself. I am my own worst enemy sometimes. Trying to live up to an unrealistic inhuman standard I set for myself long ago. Hey, I should start now, I am proud of myself for being able to identify the pattern I am in and give it life by acknowledging it's there and breathing into it to see what I need so I can sink deeper into my authentic self. I am also proud of myself because I recognize it's time to start offering myself the same grace and compassion that I offer others and to acknowledge I am a human and doing my best every day.

Carpe Diem- I pledge to myself to keep this mantra in the forefront of my mind. When I feel uneasy about what is happening around me, in my body, or mind, I am going to remind myself that the only thing I am in control of is my response to what is uncomfortable. I will let my invisible report card take a rest so I am not keeping track of all my faults, and I will offer myself the grace to learn and do differently next time. I am a perfectly capable but flawed human being. My expectation of me is to live a life that feels good, not one that looks perfect to everyone else.

by Beth Ayers
February 27, 2024

Maintaining friendships while raising children with mental health challenges has been hard for me. I have narrowed down my list of “friends,” keeping those who could support me without judgement through extremely challenging times. I have also come to appreciate friends who are willing to say the hard things out of love that I need to hear. I deeply appreciate others who share in my lived experience and just “get it.” My own comparison and self-pity have caused me to keep some friends at a distance. The stigma associated with mental illness kept me silent about what my family was going through. And the stress of caring for my child, seeking out services, attending multiple appointments weekly, and emotional exhaustion left me little time to devote to my friendships.

In the early years of raising children, my friends were moms at playgroup, moms whose kids were in the same grade and school as mine, or moms of the friends my child played with. Additionally, I became closer with my friends who were also having and raising children. We would talk about our kids, share parenting advice, and encourage each other that this stage we were in wouldn’t last forever. My biggest frustration was taking home parenting techniques that others swore by and have them not work for my child. It was also easy to compare milestones and worry when my child didn’t do what all the other kids were doing. I put pressure on myself to have the child that listened and didn’t get into trouble, or at least not have the one that misbehaved the worst! I still have a few friends from this time in my life. Our kids are now 19 years old, and it seems impossible they were ever little.

I never felt very close to my child’s classmates’ parents. The ones I chatted with when dropping off my child at their house to play or picking them up from school. The ones I sat with during all the seasons of soccer practice and games. Soccer, which by the way, has a fall season AND a spring season and there is usually snow on the ground for both. I would suggest choosing a sport for your Kindergartner that is offered only once a year or is played indoors. These friendships rarely moved past our kids and when the sport season or school year was over, I didn’t keep in touch with them.

My child maintained some close friends throughout school, and I developed friendships with some of their parents. It was always awkward when a mom and I were close and our kids quit liking each other. This seemed to happen quite often in middle school. During my child’s 8^th grade graduation ceremony, I sat next to a mom I was close friends with while our children ignored each other or shot glaring looks at each other and us. We decided that just because our children weren’t friends didn’t mean we had to stop being friends. As our kids grew, though, these parent friendships became hard for me. The conversations about updates on our kids or questions they would ask were hard for me. I didn’t know how to answer truthfully and still honor my child’s privacy. I also didn’t realize how simple questions about the usual course of life our kids take can be hurtful for parents whose kids’ lives didn’t take that course. Questions about prom or driver’s licenses, graduation or work or college, reminded me that my child wasn’t experiencing these things. Instead of joy, I felt sad that my dreams for my child weren’t being realized. I wished my biggest worry was prom dresses or college options. I was just trying to keep my child alive and decide on what sort of treatment to try next. It was hard for me to maintain these friendships without comparing my life with theirs and feeling sorry for myself. I have come to realize that there are more families whose lives don’t follow the norm than do. Often times we don’t see behind the curtains of social media posts or polite conversations. I have had to let go of the friendships, through no fault of the other parent, that keep me stuck in self-pity and jealousy.

Mental illness is a tricky subject. We don’t talk openly about it whether out of stigma, fear of judgement, trying to keep the other person’s privacy, or not wanting to explain that mental illness isn’t bad parenting. (And yes, I put my child in enough social activities, and yes, I have tried whatever parenting program you’re suggesting, thanks for asking.) I know everyone means well and I know that until you have or know someone who has a mental illness, it is hard to understand. Our “fix” reflex comes from love and wanting to help, and our society has a low tolerance for sitting with others in their pain. I didn’t feel like I could share my story because it involved so many details of my child’s story and my child was very private. Not sharing with my church family was particularly hard. I would have loved to ask for prayer or receive a casserole when my child was in the hospital. At one point, my child and the child of a couple in my Sunday School class were actually in the same hospital unit at the same time. And we didn’t know because mental illness wasn’t talked about. Here was a missed opportunity to walk with other parents who knew exactly what we were going through and support each other. That seemed so ridiculous to me. In fact, a fellow parent and I began a Mental Health Friends Network at our church to spread awareness and stop the stigma of mental illness. Our campaign slogan was, “Mental illness is a casserole illness, too!”

I had a few close friends I confided in, knowing they would keep things confidential. After all, I needed support too. These close friends walked with me down dark roads, held my hand and cried with me, listened without fixing or judging, and were there for me and my family through the hard years. I could be honest about my feelings of failure, frustration, self-pity, fear, grief, and resentment. I could also celebrate with them when things were going well at home or when my child was feeling healthy, knowing my friends were sincerely happy for me. And I could also be happy for them when they had great things happen in their lives or with their children. And I could support them when their lives were hard. These friends loved me enough to express their worries or offer altering points of view or tell me when my thinking was off. Whether I agreed or not, I trusted they had my best interest at heart and was able to hear them without getting defensive. They also loved my child and were there for everyone in my family. These are the real friendships I continue to be grateful for and cherish to this day.

September 12, 2023

Recovery, whether from physical ailments, mental health challenges, addiction, or any form of adversity, is a journey that requires unwavering commitment and determination. It is a process that demands not only medical interventions but also a profound dedication to self-improvement and healing. The essence of commitment to recovery lies in the willingness to face challenges head-on, persevere through setbacks, and cultivate resilience that leads to a renewed sense of well-being.

At the heart is the recognition that the path to healing is rarely linear. Setbacks, relapses, and moments of doubt are almost inevitable. However, it is the commitment to the larger goal of recovery that sustains individuals through these trials. This commitment involves a conscious decision to prioritize one's well-being, even when faced with difficulties. It is a dedication to seeking help, whether from medical professionals, therapists, support groups, or loved ones, and utilizing the resources available for the betterment of one's health.

Commitment to recovery is an embodiment of resilience. It's the ability to bounce back from setbacks with newfound strength and determination. Resilience is cultivated through the act of persisting despite challenges, adapting to changing circumstances, and learning from both successes and failures. This resilience not only aids in the process of recovery but also equips individuals with valuable life skills that extend beyond their healing journey.

Furthermore, this commitment is a testament to the power of the human spirit. It showcases our capacity to evolve, transform, and rise above even the most daunting circumstances. It often necessitates making difficult choices and altering habits that might have contributed to the challenge at hand. It requires a willingness to confront past traumas, address underlying issues, and adopt healthier coping mechanisms.

Committing to recovery is a profound and transformative journey that requires dedication, resilience, and an unyielding spirit. It's an acknowledgement that healing is not passive; rather, it's an active pursuit that demands consistent effort and a steadfast commitment to personal growth. Whether recovering from physical ailments, mental health struggles, addiction, or any form of adversity, the commitment to recovery is a testament to the strength of the human will and the capacity to triumph over adversity. Through this commitment, individuals can emerge from their challenges with a renewed sense of purpose and a deeper understanding of their own strength.