Let’s tell the truth:
The ones who hold everyone else
together are often the ones falling apart behind closed doors.
We show up for the phone calls, the
crises, the late-night check-ins, and the early morning responsibilities. We’re
the emotional backbone, the spiritual lifeline, and the go-to advisor for our
children, our churches, our communities. And yet…
We get tired, too.
I’ve been all three — a mom, a ministry
leader, mentor and even Christian Counselor. And I’ll admit it: I’ve smiled
while my heart was heavy. I’ve poured from an empty cup because I thought my
“calling” required it. I’ve held space for others while having no space for
myself.
And I know I’m not the only one.
That’s why Mental Health
Awareness Month isn’t just a hashtag for me. It’s a holy reminder: we
don’t have to break in silence anymore.
There’s this unspoken expectation
that if you’re “called,” you’re also supposed to be constantly available,
emotionally unshakeable, and spiritually unbothered. But here’s the truth: Even
strong men and women need support. Even wise get weary.
Even the faith-filled
feel fragile sometimes.
Mental health challenges aren’t
always loud. Sometimes they look like:
- Exhaustion you can’t shake, even after sleep.
- Snapping at the people you love because your patience
is running on fumes.
- Serving out of obligation, not overflow.
- Smiling through burnout because people expect you to.
We’ve been conditioned to feel
guilty for needing help. But it’s not weakness — it’s wisdom.
There was a season when I was doing
all the things — and I mean all of them.
I was leading at work. Leading at
church. Being a Pastor’s Wife. Mothering and Stepmothering. Coaching. Running a
ministry. Writing a book. Going to school. It looked impressive on paper, but
it was exhausting in real life. People would say to me with wide eyes, “How
do you do it all?” “When do you sleep?” And I’d laugh it off and say, “I
don’t know… I just do it.” I may have even misquoted Philippians 4:13
reminding that I could do all things through Christ…
But I wasn’t being honest with them
— or with myself.
I didn’t know how I was doing it. I
was running on fumes. I had normalized burnout, spiritualized exhaustion, and
convinced myself that as long as I was still producing, I must be okay. But God
— in His mercy — stopped me.
He didn’t show up with a loud
warning. He came quietly, in moments of stillness and soul nudging. He began to
show me that I couldn’t keep going like this. That constantly pouring without
pausing wasn’t noble — it was dangerous. That I had mistaken hustle for
purpose. That I had equated being needed with being whole. That breaking point?
It didn’t destroy me.
It saved me.
God gently began to rewire how I
thought about strength. He showed me that rest is sacred.
That limits are loving. That my worth is not in my workload. And that even
Jesus — the ultimate leader, teacher, and healer — had to pull away from the
crowd to replenish.
So if you’re tired — not the kind
of tired that sleep can fix, but the deep, soul-level weariness — please, be
honest with yourself. It’s okay to say,
“I’m not okay.”
It’s okay to admit that you need a
break, a moment, a reset. Because you can’t lead well, love well, or teach well
if you’re barely holding on. This Mental Health Awareness Month, I want to
remind you (and myself) that we don’t have to wear the cape. We can take it
off. Hang it up.
And say, “God, I need rest.” And that can be your act of faith. So
breathe. Tell the truth — to yourself and to the ones who count. Do what’s
necessary for your healing. That’s not weakness.
That’s wisdom. You’re not alone. You’re not failing. You’re just human. And
that’s holy too.
What I realized is this: our
healing isn’t just for us. It’s for the ones coming behind us. The
daughters, the mentees, the ministry leaders, the caregivers. Your story — even
if it’s messy, even if it’s still unfolding — can be the very thing someone
else needs to hear. Not because you have all the answers, but because you’ve
been where they are.
Your lessons can become a
devotional. Your experience can become a journal. Your healing can become a
short ebook. Your wisdom can be packaged into a guide, a mini-course, a
workshop.
And yes, you can monetize it — not
from a place of exploitation, but from stewardship. Because time is
valuable, and so is what you’ve lived through.
So if you’re tired — really tired be
tired. If you’re worn down, say so. — don’t just push through it. And please
don’t pretend it’s not there. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is tell
yourself the truth: “I’m not okay — and that’s okay.” Don’t just pray over
it. Being strong doesn’t mean being silent. Being faithful doesn’t mean being
fake. And being a leader doesn’t mean you can’t also say, “I need help.”
This Mental Health Awareness Month,
give yourself permission to prioritize you. Talk to someone. Rest
unapologetically. Get support. Write it out. Say no. Take the long shower.
Cancel the meeting. Be honest enough to do what’s necessary for your peace. You
can’t pour from an empty cup — but you can teach from a healed place. Let’s
normalize that.
If you need help, ask. You are not
less spiritual for being human. And if you’ve walked through something hard and
come out stronger — don’t sit on that wisdom. Someone is waiting for
what you know. Someone is praying for a message you’re carrying. And your
content could be the answer.
This May, let’s not just talk
about mental health. Let’s teach what we know. Let’s share what we’ve learned. Let’s
stop bleeding in silence and start writing in strength.
Blessings,
Dr. Janice R. Love
Pearls Perfected Institute
