I am grateful for my mental struggles because it has led me to a life full of empathy and gratitude.

So I’ve basically convinced myself that if I relive something enough, maybe I won’t repeat it. If I feel bad enough, maybe that proves I’m truly sorry. But what happens when feeling bad becomes the punishment? What happens when you’ve acknowledged the mistake, taken responsibility, apologized if necessary, learned from it…and you still won’t let yourself move on? Shame takes I made a mistake and turns it into I am a bad person because I made a mistake. And then the cycle begi

And once we live that story day in and day out, for weeks or years on end, we become entrenched in it. We find evidence everywhere to justify it. There's a strange sense of security in proving to ourselves that we were right all along.

So I’m not just mourning a country music legend I grew up with. I’m mourning the loss of a woman who somehow made the entire world feel a little more human. A woman who came from very little and left behind so much. A woman who loved loudly, gave generously, laughed often, and never seemed to forget where she came from.

We only get one brain, and it quietly works around the clock to keep us alive—from regulating our emotions to controlling every heartbeat, breath, and movement. Caring for our mental health is really about caring for the very organ that makes all of life possible.

My life is full in ways younger me could have never imagined. That doesn’t mean it’s always easy—mental health doesn’t discriminate.