Mental Health And the Spirit of Spring
May is Mental Health Awareness Month, and it just so happens to land right in the middle of spring—a season known for growth, renewal, and fresh starts. There’s something about the longer days, blooming flowers, and warmer air that brings a little more hope to the surface. It’s a time when the world feels like it’s waking up again, and in many ways, that mirrors the journey many of us take in caring for our mental health. Typically, spring is a season that symbolizes renewal. But this year, that feeling is more complicated.
Right now many of us are living through an incredibly difficult and painful time. The political climate is charged with fear, division, and real threats to our well-being—especially for those who are already vulnerable. Many of us are feeling worn down. We’re navigating not just our personal struggles, but also the weight of ongoing injustice, violence, and uncertainty about the future. It’s more than just seasonal stress—it’s collective grief, anxiety, and exhaustion.
Mental Health Month isn’t just a reminder to take care of ourselves—it’s a call to remember that we’re not meant to carry all of this alone. While self-care is important, community care is essential. In seasons like this, our nervous systems need gentleness, and our hearts need each other. We need spaces where we can be heard, held, and reminded that we still belong.
Spring still has something to teach us—not in a way that demands optimism, but in the quiet way it insists on showing up anyway. Even when the ground has been frozen for months. Even when storms roll in again. Flowers still break through. And they don’t do it alone. They grow in clusters, side by side.
This Mental Health Month, instead of looking for quick fixes or forced positivity, consider looking for real and authentic connection. Reach out to a friend and share honestly. Join a support group or a healing circle, give back or volunteer. Talk to your therapist about the fears that feel too big to say out loud. Find places—online or in person—where you can be in community with people who understand what you’re carrying.
And if you don’t have those places yet, know that it’s okay to seek them out slowly. Hope doesn’t always come in bright, bold bursts. Sometimes it looks like a single conversation. A quiet walk with someone you trust. A moment of rest when you almost kept going.
So this May, take a moment to breathe deeply, step outside, and let the season remind you: tending to our mental health is a radical, necessary act—not just for ourselves, but for each other.
