May is Mental Health Awareness Month. So, this whole month, I want to do something different on Lavish Life Living.
Every Tuesday in May, I am dropping a new piece of this conversation. I am calling the series May We Speak. Because most of us were never given permission to. So, this is me handing it to you, four weeks in a row.
This is week one. And I want to start where most of us actually live, which is right here. Not in crisis. Just standing in our kitchens at 9pm wondering why we feel the way we feel, and not having a name for it.
I know because I have been there.
I am writing this because I know what it feels like to forget how to speak.
For a season of my life, I looked like I was functioning. I was writing. I was going back to school. I was building a business. From the outside, it may have looked like purpose, productivity, and drive. Inside, I was grieving, overwhelmed, and quietly disappearing.
I had pain I did not know how to name yet.
And because I could not name it, my body started naming it for me.
My stress and grief began showing up in my sleep, my appetite, my weight, my energy, my emotions, and the way I moved through the world. I called some of it being a workaholic. I called some of it discipline. I called some of it, I am fine. But my body knew the truth before my mouth could say it.
I was not fine.
One day, I saw a photo of myself and had what I can only describe as a mirror moment. I looked at myself and realized I did not fully recognize the woman looking back at me. Not just physically, emotionally too. Something in me had gone quiet for too long.
That moment did not fix everything. But it helped me notice.
And noticing matters.
Before we go any further, I want to say this clearly. This is not about shaming anyone. It is not about blaming yourself, diagnosing yourself, or calling out every place where you feel messy.
This is about noticing.
Because the sooner we can recognize the signs, the sooner we can pause, ask for help, repair what needs repairing, and gently come back to ourselves.
Most of us do not fall apart all at once. We drift. We isolate a little longer. We numb a little more. We snap a little faster. We stay busy so we do not have to feel. And before we know it, we are farther from ourselves than we meant to be.
So this post is a tool, not a judgment.
A hand on your shoulder, not a finger in your face. Come sit with me.
The Signs We Were Taught to Look For
When most of us think about mental health struggles, we think about a person in bed. We think about not getting up for days. We think about tears. We think about the visible kind of broken.
And those signs are real. They matter. If that is you, or someone you love, please do not skip past it.
But here is the problem with only looking for those signs. They are often the late signs. They are the signs that show up after months, and sometimes years, of the quieter ones getting missed.
The early signs look nothing like that. The early signs look like life.
Sign One: Anger That Does Not Match the Moment
This was me for a long time. And it was someone in my family for even longer.
You snap at the smallest thing. The wrong tone. The dish in the sink. The text that took too long. The driver who did not move when the light turned green.
The reaction does not match the moment. You know it. You feel it the second the words leave your mouth. But you cannot pull them back, and you do not understand where they came from.
Anger is often a secondary emotion. It can sit on top of something deeper: sadness, anxiety, shame, rejection, grief, fear, or feeling not enough. The anger feels powerful because the thing underneath feels too tender to touch.
If you have been calling yourself moody, short-tempered, or just stressed, this is your invitation to look underneath. The fire is not the whole story. The smoke is trying to tell you something is burning somewhere else.
Friend, if you have been the angry one, the one snapping, shutting down, reacting, or noticing the people you love slowly pulling away because they do not know how to reach you anymore, this is your permission to pause and forgive yourself enough to repair.
Not excuse it. Not ignore it. Repair it.
Anger may be your nervous system saying, I cannot carry one more thing. Still, the people who love you need tenderness. They need honesty. They need to know you are willing to come back. That is enough for today. Just willing.
Ephesians 4:26 says, Be angry, and do not sin. Do not let the sun go down on your anger. The verse does not shame the feeling. It asks us not to live there.
Sign Two: Doing More, Feeling Less
This one fools everyone, including the person living it.
You are getting more done. You are saying yes to more. You are the friend showing up to everyone else's hard days. You are crushing it at work. Your house is clean. Your calendar is full.
And inside, you feel nothing.
Sometimes the struggle does not look like falling apart. Sometimes it looks like functioning with no feeling left. From the outside it looks like strength. From the inside it feels like running a marathon while your soul sits on the sidelines watching.
Here is the question to sit with. When was the last time something genuinely moved you? Not impressed you. Not entertained you. Moved you. If you cannot remember, please do not gaslight yourself into thinking everything is fine because you are functioning. Functioning is not the same as feeling.
Friend, the world keeps thanking you for holding it all together, and somewhere along the way you started to believe that the cost of falling apart is too high.
Hear me. You do not have to earn rest. You do not have to collapse before you are allowed to slow down. You are allowed to set the heavy thing down for a minute and feel what is actually under there.
The strong friend is allowed to need a friend too. Tell one safe person what is really happening inside the shine.
Matthew 11:28 says, Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. The invitation is not only for the broken. It is for the tired. That includes you.
Sign Three: A Quiet That Used to Be Noisy
The text threads you used to be in. The friend you used to call on the way home. The activity that used to light you up. The hobby. The book. The walk. The music in the car.
Gone quiet.
Not in a dramatic way. Just slowly. A little less. Then a little less. Then one day you realize you have not done that thing in three months, and you cannot remember when you stopped.
Withdrawing from the things you used to enjoy can be one of the clearest early signs that something underneath is shifting. Your nervous system may be conserving energy because energy is short. That can be wisdom for a season. But left alone too long, it can become isolation.
If you have been telling yourself you are just busy, ask the deeper question. Are you busy, or are you avoiding? Is your phone in your hand because you are connected, or because you are numb?
Friend, when you have been isolating, stepping back into the world can feel awkward, heavy, and almost impossible. You may not know what to say. You may not want to explain the whole story. You may not have the energy to make it make sense.
So do not start with the whole story. Start with one honest sentence.
Text someone you feel safe with and say, I am having a hard time. Send an email. Find a small group, a Bible study, a Facebook community, or a quiet online space where you can belong again. Virtual connection still counts. Quiet belonging still counts. Letting one safe person know you are not okay still counts.
Sign Four: The Body Knows First
Your mind is excellent at explaining things away. Your body is not.
Trouble sleeping. Sleeping too much. Eating too little. Eating to feel something. Headaches that show up before hard conversations. Shoulders that live up by your ears. A clenched jaw at night. The tightness in your chest when your phone buzzes.
These are not separate from your mental health. They are messengers. The body often holds what the mouth has not learned how to say yet.
If you have been treating these signs as random, or just stress, or just hormones, please consider that they may be the only voice your inner world has right now. Listen to it. Write down what it is telling you.
Friend, if you have gone silent and the noise has moved into your body, the kitchen at midnight, the food, the skipped meals, the grip in your chest, the sleep that will not come, hear me gently.
Shame will not lead you back home to yourself.
Take a breath. Put one hand on your chest. You do not have to tell everyone everything today. You do not have to explain it perfectly. You do not even have to fully understand it yet.
Just name it somewhere safe. Text it. Journal it. Whisper it to God. Write one honest sentence. I am not okay, and I need help finding my way back. That counts. That is a beginning.
Psalm 139:14 says, I am fearfully and wonderfully made. The body that has been holding the silence is the same body God called wonderful. Listen to it. It is not the enemy. It is the messenger.
Sign Five: The Smile That Does Not Reach
This one is for the friend in your life who is always fine.
The selfies look great. The captions are upbeat. They show up to everything. They are the one in the group photo with the biggest smile.
And if you watch closely, the smile does not reach.
Some people are masters at this. I have been one of them. The performance of being okay can become a survival skill. It is exhausting. And the people who are best at it are often the ones quietly struggling the most.
Here is what to do if you suspect this is someone you love. Do not only ask, How are you. Ask, How are you, really. Ask it slow. Ask it with your phone face down. Then be quiet long enough for them to answer.
The first answer may be, I am fine. Wait. Sometimes the real answer comes second.
If you are the loved one who has been on the receiving end of someone else's silence or someone else's anger, hear me clearly. It is not your fault.
You can love someone and still need a boundary. You can pray for someone and still step back. You can understand their pain and still say, this cannot keep happening like this.
If someone you love is fighting their own quiet battle, offer warmth before correction. Offer presence before advice. If it fits your relationship, offer a simple prayer or a steady scripture. Sometimes people do not need a sermon. They need a safe hand reaching toward them.
1 Peter 5:7 says, Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Or said another way, give all your worries and cares to God, because he cares for you. The same God who cares for the one struggling is caring for the one loving them through it.