For years, I thought therapy was the only real solution to my mental health struggles. Don’t get me wrong—therapy is powerful, transformative, and necessary for many. But over time, I learned that my mental well-being wasn’t just dependent on what happened in a therapist’s office. It was everything else I did outside those 50-minute sessions that either supported or sabotaged my progress.
This is the story of how I discovered a more holistic approach to my mental health—and the tools that truly changed my life.
Therapy Was the First Step, Not the Final Answer
My journey with therapy began in my mid-20s, when anxiety and depression became impossible to ignore. The act of showing up and speaking my truth was life-changing. I gained insights into my patterns, learned how to reframe my thoughts, and felt seen in a way I hadn’t before. But eventually, I hit a plateau. The tools I was learning weren’t enough to carry me through the chaos of everyday life.
I was still tired all the time. My body ached. I couldn’t focus. I felt disconnected, despite doing all the “right” things. That’s when I realized: therapy alone wasn’t going to cut it. I needed to build a life that supported my mental health from the ground up.
1. Movement That Felt Like Medicine
I used to view exercise as punishment—a way to shrink my body, burn off guilt, or keep up with unrealistic expectations. But that relationship with movement only increased my stress and self-criticism. It wasn’t helping my mental health; it was hurting it.
Everything changed when I reframed movement as medicine. I stopped counting reps and calories and started asking myself one simple question: How do I want to feel today?
Sometimes the answer was “grounded,” so I rolled out my yoga mat. Other days, it was “strong,” so I lifted weights or went for a power walk. Movement became intuitive, joyful, and rooted in kindness. The result? Better sleep, fewer panic attacks, and a newfound respect for what my body could do—not how it looked.
2. A Morning Routine That Was Actually Doable
Morning routines can feel like a self-help cliché, but for someone with a chaotic brain, structure can be a lifeline. I used to wake up and immediately doom-scroll through social media, drinking coffee on an empty stomach and wondering why I felt so anxious by 9 a.m.
I needed a better start to my day. So I crafted a simple, three-step routine:
- Hydrate before caffeine.
- Five minutes of stillness (meditation or deep breathing).
- Get sunlight or fresh air within 30 minutes of waking.
It sounds basic, but those first 15 minutes grounded me. My nervous system had a chance to regulate before the world came rushing in. Over time, this small shift reduced my reliance on stimulants and helped me feel more emotionally balanced throughout the day.
3. Food That Fueled My Brain
I never made the connection between what I was eating and how I was feeling—until I started paying attention. Processed food, excess sugar, and caffeine crashes were sending my mood on a rollercoaster. I didn’t need a “diet.” I needed nourishment.
I started by adding, not restricting:
- More omega-3s (hello, salmon and chia seeds)
- Complex carbs like oats and quinoa
- Leafy greens and fermented foods
- Consistent meals that didn’t skip breakfast
This wasn’t about being perfect; it was about being intentional. I still enjoy treats, but I now understand the profound link between blood sugar balance, gut health, and mental clarity. When I eat better, I feel better—simple as that.
4. Nature As Non-Negotiable
I used to spend entire weeks indoors, glued to screens, barely noticing the changing seasons. But nature is the original antidepressant. When I began prioritizing time outside—even just a walk through the park or 10 minutes on my balcony—I felt calmer, more connected, more alive.
Nature gave me perspective. It reminded me that everything changes, that I’m part of something bigger, and that I don’t need to earn rest or pleasure. Now, even on my busiest days, I find a way to step outside, take off my shoes, feel the earth, and breathe.
5. Digital Boundaries That Protected My Peace
Social media can be a powerful connector—but it can also be a source of relentless comparison, doom, and distraction. I didn’t realize how much it was impacting my mood until I started setting real boundaries.
I began by turning off notifications, unfollowing accounts that triggered shame or inadequacy, and implementing screen-free hours in the morning and evening. Eventually, I designated Sundays as “offline days,” which helped reset my brain and restore my attention span.
This wasn’t about rejecting technology—it was about reclaiming control over how I consumed it. With healthier boundaries, I had more mental space, better sleep, and a stronger sense of self.
6. Journaling That Was Honest, Not Pretty
I used to think journaling had to be poetic or profound. But I learned that the most healing entries are often the messiest—the raw, unfiltered, “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing” kind.
Now, journaling is where I process thoughts I wouldn’t say out loud. It’s a pressure release valve, a place to make sense of my emotions and celebrate my growth. I don’t write every day, but when I do, I always feel lighter.
Some prompts that helped:
- What am I carrying that isn’t mine?
- What do I need today?
- What’s one small thing I’m proud of?
7. A Support System That Didn’t Just “Get It”—They Lived It
Not everyone in my life understood mental health. Some offered well-meaning but unhelpful advice: “Just think positive,” or “Have you tried yoga?” I needed people who really understood—the kind of support you get from someone who’s been through the darkness and found a way out.
I found that through peer support groups, online communities, and eventually, friendships rooted in vulnerability. These were the people I could message on bad days without fear of judgment. People who didn’t try to fix me—just sat with me in the discomfort and reminded me I wasn’t alone.
Having that community made all the difference.
The Big Picture: Healing Is a Daily Practice
Therapy gave me tools. But these daily practices—movement, food, routines, nature, boundaries, journaling, and community—kept me steady. They didn’t replace therapy, but they gave it somewhere to land. They made the insights stick.
Mental health isn’t something you achieve once and never worry about again. It’s something you nurture. It’s in the choices you make every day—what you consume, how you move, who you trust, and what you believe about yourself.
I still have bad days. I still get overwhelmed. But I’m no longer waiting for someone else to save me. I have a toolbox now. And that has changed everything.
markmunroe
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