Sacred Sunday: The Healing in the Breakdown
Honoring Mental Health Awareness Month Through Reflection, Recovery, and Divine Rebirth
Trigger Warning: This post contains open and honest discussions about mental health, including references to depression, suicidal ideation, psychiatric hospitalization, and sexual abuse. Please take care of yourself as you read, and skip any parts that feel too heavy to hold right now.
Happy Sacred Sunday, Divine Tribe!🌞
May is a sacred month. Not just because spring is in full bloom, or because the Earth feels like she’s slowly waking up again, but because it’s also Mental Health Awareness Month.
It’s a time to acknowledge the invisible battles so many of us face daily, to break the silence around mental illness, and to reflect on how we care for our emotional, psychological, and spiritual well-being.
According to the CDC, mental health is the component of behavioral health that refers to an individual's overall emotional, psychological, and social well-being. It encompasses how people think, feel, and act, and influences how they handle stress, relate to others, and make choices. Alongside physical health, it is a crucial aspect for living a fulfilling life.
Let’s ground this in some perspective:
These aren't just numbers. They’re people. Stories. Families. Souls trying to find their way home in a world that often tells them to “push through” instead of asking them what they truly need.
The Cost of Normalizing the Struggle
This week, I came across a post by digital creator and mental health advocate Sabrina Flores, who recently made the decision to check herself into a residential mental health facility. She speaks so beautifully and vulnerably about her experiences living with BPD, and one message from her post deeply resonated with me: the daily difficulty of surviving while being mentally unwell becomes so normalized, you stop realizing how much you’re barely functioning.
We’re often praised for our resilience, for keeping it together, for “managing,” especially those of us deemed “high functioning.” But managing isn’t thriving, and those labels completely erase the invisible battle many of us struggle to overcome every day. Survival is not the same as being alive.
She described something I’ve also lived through: the slow fade from functioning to falling apart. You stop asking for help, you feel relief when you avoid the “hard but healing” things, and before you know it, you’ve adjusted your entire life to fit your pain. You try to operate at a pace that was never sustainable, yet you don’t even realize how much it’s breaking you down—until you can’t keep going anymore.
And when your body finally forces the pause, it’s terrifying. Because then you have to admit something even harder than being tired: maybe you’ve never really been okay.
Starting From Scratch... Again (and Again)
Hearing her speak pulled me back into my own memories, when I had to be checked into psychiatric treatment three, maybe four times (I honestly lost count). Each time, I had to rebuild. I had to start from nothing but breath and belief. I had to admit that I wasn’t okay.
But now, years later, I can say this: I’m grateful it happened.
My body collapsing was the divine intervention I didn’t know I needed. If it hadn’t happened then, I would have continued living a life that was slowly killing me. And the truth is, those years of depression and suicidal ideation weren’t a choice—but they became a sacred initiation. A blessing in disguise.
I’ve been told I’m an old soul, some say I speak with the wisdom of elders, yet also have found a way to stay in touch with my inner child. That I seem “ahead” in ways others aren’t, not because I’ve checked off societal milestones, but because I’ve been forced to look at my fears, my shadows, and my soul under a microscope. That is a rite of passage most people avoid until their 30s and 40s.
It’s taken 9 years to finally feel like I’m stabilizing. But I’m so glad I did the work early. I’ve seen the inside of my rock bottom—and now, I trust myself to rise from it, no matter how many times life tries to pull me back.
Why We Suffer, and Why We Must Share
This reflection has made me revisit a spiritual question I’ve heard time and time again: Why does God allow us to suffer?
I don’t think we’re meant to know. At least, not while we’re in it. I believe we’re too close to the canvas of our lives and the plans we’ve previously set for ourselves to see the bigger picture, the masterpiece unfolding.
Sometimes, the “why” is only revealed in hindsight, when the pain has turned into purpose. Sometimes, the reason only makes sense after the panic has quieted, after the breakdown leads to a breakthrough.
Looking back now, I can say this with truth in my chest: my mind was never built to comprehend why I had to endure what I did. Panic attacks that paralyzed me. Dissociation that made me feel like a ghost inside my own skin. Sexual trauma that left me numb. Anxiety that stole my breath. Suicidal thoughts that haunted me for years like an unwanted shadow.
None of it made sense while I was surviving it. But now, I see it was all alchemy shaping me into the person writing this today.
Someone who can love and accept herself deeply and without apology.
Someone who is no longer daunted by the mystery of the future.
Someone who can look into another person’s eyes and say: you are not broken, and you are not alone.
Our minds weren’t built to embrace struggle. They’re wired to avoid it, to run from the burn, until we gather the wisdom and the tools to move through it. That’s why it’s so important to raise awareness, to share our stories, and to hold space for others still finding their way through the dark. Because sometimes, the bridge between just surviving and finally living is made of words, honesty, and the kind of truth that says: “Me too.”
Your Mental Health Is Sacred
So this Sacred Sunday, take a moment to breathe—not just for the version of you reading this now, but for the you who has carried more than your fair share. The you who held grief like it was air. The you who kept going when no one saw your pain. The you who didn’t give up, even when it felt like the easier choice.
Mental Health Awareness Month isn’t just about statistics, infographics, well-meaning hashtags, or campaigns. It’s about honoring real stories, real healing, and real lives. The messy, human, divine ones. It’s about recognizing that the fight to feel okay is not a flaw. It’s a signal from your soul that something deeper is asking to be heard. It’s your spirit calling you home.
I don’t see my mental breakdowns as curses anymore. I see them as sacred checkpoints. Internal alarms. Whispers from my nervous system saying, “Something’s not right. You need rest. You need space. You need you.” They were never punishments. They were invitations to slow down, to listen, and to return to myself.
And now, I know this: God doesn’t give us more than we can handle—not because life isn’t heavy, but because we are given what we need when we need it. Tools. Teachers. Moments of unexpected grace. And sometimes…we are the miracle. The medicine. The phoenixes who rise, again and again.
So this May, honor your mind. Honor your emotions. Honor your sacred, soft, and powerful humanity.
Because no weapon formed against you shall prosper, not when you know how to protect your peace. Not when you remember that your healing is divinely guided. And not when you finally realize: you are the proof that resilience is holy.
Thank you so much for reading The Divine Vitality!
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Thank you for being here💛
This is once again beautifully, tenderly, truthfully written. What a divine gift of medicine you have and what an admirable choice you make each time you share it. Thank you for this blessing! 💛💛
Thank you for sharing this. A divinely timed message for me today for sure.