As May winds down—and as I quietly turn another year older—I’ve found myself reflecting on how different this month felt compared to the ones before. It’s been a mix of hope and heaviness, quiet growth and quiet struggle.
May is Mental Health Awareness Month, and while I’ve seen it mentioned more this year than ever before, I wanted to share something that felt more personal. Not a list of symptoms or stats. Not polished advice. Just a little truth: I’ve been trying my best, and sometimes my best looks more like slow mornings, unfinished to-do lists, and starting over—again and again.
If you’ve been feeling that too… you’re not alone.
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Let’s Talk About What We Don’t Talk About
I live with anxiety. And while it’s been part of my life for a long time, it doesn’t always show up in ways people expect. It’s not loud. Not always obvious. Most days, it feels like overthinking 90% of every interaction, every task, every choice—until something small becomes impossibly heavy.
It’s the mental math of asking yourself whether you worded a message wrong, if you’ve let someone down, or if you’re falling behind in ways no one else even notices. It’s the exhausting inner monologue that spirals over the most mundane things—choosing what to eat, sending a text, leaving the house.
And no matter how much I try to explain it, I still end up feeling misunderstood. Or worse—like I’m too much for feeling it at all.
But here’s the thing I keep reminding myself: just because something is hard for someone else to see, doesn’t mean it isn’t real.
Anxiety doesn’t always look like panic attacks. Sometimes it looks like being quiet because your mind is too full. Sometimes it looks like avoiding tasks you actually want to do, because the weight of perfection is sitting on your chest. Sometimes it looks like starting five projects at once and finishing none—not out of laziness, but out of fear.
And yet… I keep trying. I keep rebuilding routines. I keep showing up for the small possibilities of each day (pun fully intended).
One thing I’ve been learning is how easy it is to fall into the trap of labeling ourselves. We get so used to saying things like “I’m just bad at sticking with things” or “I always mess things up” that we forget we’re allowed to grow. Labels can sometimes help us name what we’re experiencing—but they can also box us in. They can make us feel like our struggles are all we are.
Lately, I’ve been practicing a gentler approach. Instead of over-identifying with every emotion, I just try to notice it. Describe it. Let it pass. Sometimes I’ll say, “I feel overwhelmed right now, and I need a moment to reset.” That’s it. No shame. No defense. Just honesty. And if someone doesn’t understand that, that’s okay. The right people will.
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Creative Self-Care: More Than Bubble Baths
When people talk about self-care, it often gets flattened into surface-level treats: a face mask, a walk, a cup of tea. And while I absolutely love those things, I’ve found that what really soothes my nervous system is creative self-care—the kind that engages my mind and hands gently, without pressure or performance.
Here are a few things I come back to, especially when my brain feels too loud:
• Journaling without rules—just letting the pen move across the page, even if it’s messy or mundane.
• Crocheting soft plushies, slowly and with no deadline, while a comfort show hums in the background.
• Cleaning or decluttering something small—a drawer, a shelf, a corner—and letting it feel like a fresh start.
• Creating Notion pages just for fun: mood boards, dream lists, recipe keepers, even if no one else sees them.
• Making cozy little playlists for different moments in my day—ones that match the mood I want to feel.
These aren’t things I do for content. I don’t do them to “fix” myself. I do them because they remind me I’m a person with interests and softness and worth outside of productivity.
And that’s what self-care really is to me: not escaping my life, but returning to it with more presence.
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Letting Go of Perfection + the Fear of Falling Short
For a long time, I believed that if I couldn’t do something “right,” I shouldn’t do it at all. That if I wasn’t productive every day, I was failing. That mindset made everything harder.
I’ve learned (slowly, stubbornly) that showing up imperfectly is still showing up. That trying again—even after a week or month of not trying—is still trying. And that the most important thing I can offer myself isn’t productivity or progress… it’s permission.
Permission to rest.
Permission to pause.
Permission to move at my own pace.
I know I’m not alone in struggling with consistency, especially when mental health gets in the way. So if you’ve been holding guilt for not keeping up, let this be your permission slip too. It’s okay. You’re allowed to pick up where you left off.
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Build Your Supportive Spaces
One of the most healing things I’ve done this year is gently audit my social circle. I’ve started noticing who listens and who dismisses. Who supports and who drains.
Mental health is not just an internal experience—it’s relational. It lives in the way we’re spoken to, the way we’re supported (or not), the way we’re allowed to feel in someone’s presence.
If you’re trying to prioritize your well-being, it’s okay to outgrow connections that ask you to hide your truth. Surround yourself with people who don’t flinch at honesty. Who meet your needs with compassion, not judgment.
You don’t need to explain your feelings to everyone. But you do deserve to feel safe sharing them with someone.
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A Birthday Wish (For Both of Us)
As I mark another birthday, I’ve been thinking less about goals and more about grounding. I don’t want to hustle for healing. I want to tend to it, like a little garden. Slowly. With care. Letting it take root.
My birthday wish?
That we both find softness where there used to be shame.
That we learn to name our needs with kindness.
That we create for the joy of it, not the praise.
And that we remember: healing doesn’t have to look like progress.
It just has to feel like coming home.
If you’re still here, thank you for reading. I hope this gave you a little comfort today. I’d love to hear what creative self-care looks like for you. Drop a comment, or come say hi on Pinterest, Benable, or visit my links page here to explore more.
If you’d like to stay in touch for future cozy reflections, free printables, and mindful living tools, you can subscribe to the newsletter and follow along as the seasons shift and settle.
With care,
Cas Lin 💛
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