Part of a series of articles commemorating Mental Health Awareness Month
“I thought I was better.”
That’s the sentence I keep revisiting when I think about my mental health journey — and why this Mental Health Awareness Month, we need to have an honest conversation. Not the kind where we skim the surface with “Check on your strong friend” posts, but one where we acknowledge the messy, winding, and downright confusing journey that healing can be. Because here’s the truth: healing is not linear. And if you’ve ever struggled — whether silently or with a chorus of support around you — you already know that.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve dealt with social anxiety. But it wasn’t until my young adulthood — particularly while pursuing my Master’s degree — that I realised something deeper was going on. I was lonely, anxious, and constantly on edge, even when receiving feedback from lecturers. I kept people at a distance, out of fear more than anything else.
I eventually sought therapy in 2023 after losing out on a major job opportunity. My anxiety, and the walls I’d built around myself, had become a barrier I couldn’t ignore anymore. But therapy unearthed something unexpected — I hadn’t truly healed from a depressive period that started back in 2018 during my undergrad years. I’d convinced myself I had “overcome” it. I’d moved on, hadn’t I? My grades had dipped back then, I was cancelling plans, sleeping through the day, and couldn’t find joy in much of anything. But I thought I’d left that version of me behind.
Ironically, the pandemic brought out one of the happiest, most outgoing versions of myself. Surrounded by family and friends, I’d found a kind of temporary peace. But returning to the UK in 2022 to resume studies peeled back the plaster I’d placed over a still-festering wound. That’s when I realised: what I’d called healing was actually masking.
Through therapy, I learned that proximity to people I loved acted as a cushion — but it wasn’t the cure. When that cushion was removed, I came undone again.
But there were still smaller, telling signs. I noticed my own tone when conversations drifted into uncomfortable territory, particularly around relationships. I’d respond in a snappy, nonchalant way: “I don’t need anyone ’cause everyone is trash.” At first, it felt like sass, like empowerment even. But over time, I came to recognise that this was deflection. A defence mechanism. A sore spot I still hadn’t yet healed – even after seeking professional help. And like so many things in the realm of mental wellness, it reminded me: healing doesn’t happen in a straight line. Sometimes it’s quiet, sometimes it’s sarcastic, and sometimes it’s just delayed.
Today, I recognise my triggers. I journal. I meditate and pray. I talk to people. But I also allow myself to have days when I crawl into bed and stay there. That’s not failure. That’s part of the process.
You’re not alone if you’ve found yourself relapsing or feeling like you’re “back at square one.” According to Mind UK, one of the leading mental health charities in Britain, “recovery is a journey, not a destination.” Many people will experience ups and downs, and that doesn’t mean progress has been lost.
A 2023 study published in the Journal of Affective Disorders found that nearly 65% of individuals who recover from major depressive episodes report experiencing symptoms again within three years — often triggered by life transitions, stress, or isolation. In other words, relapse is not rare; it’s often a normal part of recovery.
Mental health, much like physical health, requires ongoing maintenance. You don’t go to the gym once and declare yourself fit forever. So why do we expect therapy, medication, or a few good days to “fix” years of pain, trauma, or internal struggle?
In Anguilla and across the Caribbean, mental health remains a sometimes-taboo topic. Cultural norms have conditioned us to “tough it out” or to hide our pain behind smiles. Vulnerability is often seen as weakness, and seeking therapy is, for some, still considered a luxury or even a shame.
But the tide is turning. As Anguillian youth grapple with job insecurity, rising living costs, and academic and social pressures, mental health support is becoming not just important, but essential.
Healing isn’t waking up one day and suddenly loving life. Sometimes, healing looks like getting out of bed when you really didn’t want to, replying to one text message after a week of silence or journaling when the words feel too heavy to speak.
Mental Health Awareness Month isn’t about pretending that everything’s fine. It’s about acknowledging the messy, beautiful, frustrating, and brave work that goes into staying mentally well. It’s about unlearning the idea that one therapy session, one vacation, one journal entry, or one “good week” will cure years of silent suffering.
Most importantly, it’s about remembering this: Healing doesn’t mean you never hurt again.
It means you’re learning to live, love, and grow despite the scars.
