05/06/2026
May is Mental Health Awareness Month and Lupus Awareness Month—both of which I care deeply about, not only personally, but as an advocate for greater understanding and meaningful change.
Some of you may have noticed I haven’t been as consistent with videos lately. My caseload has reached an all-time high—which I’m deeply grateful for—but it also means I’m spending most of my energy holding space for others. Between my work as a psychotherapist, being immersed in my writing program, being a single mom, writing blogs for my practice website, and caring for Wolfie, there are periods where I’m simply operating at capacity. My life is full, and often chaotic, so when I hit my threshold, I turn to writing, because it’s the one place I can consistently access myself.
I’ve also been intentionally private about my physical health for quite some time—via choosing an “out of sight, out of mind” approach—not because it isn’t part of my life, but because I refuse to let it define me. Since moving to Florida, there have been stretches where it feels non-existent, because the cold has always been my primary trigger, and being here has provided a degree of relief I didn’t previously have.
Albeit it remains part of my reality.
I live with lupus and Sjögren’s syndrome, amongst other conditions. On the mental health side, I possess the diagnoses of anxiety, PTSD, ADHD, and a recent diagnosis of Level 1 autism. It is an ongoing process of adaptation across both physical and psychological domains.
Some days require endurance, while others require rest. Most require both in different measure. Yet, I show up, I lead, I create, and I hold space for others while continuing to learn how to hold space for myself—that is resilience, and continuity under complexity.
I’ve built a life I’m proud of while navigating layers most people don’t see. Success, yes—but also sustained effort, responsibility, and an internal load that rarely shows externally.
This isn’t about sympathy—it’s about awareness, and dismantling the stigma around mental health, chronic illness, and the invisible labor of simply functioning while carrying both.
Mental and physical health are not separate systems; they are deeply interconnected, each influencing the other in real and measurable ways.
Thus, this post is for anyone who feels unseen in what they carry. For anyone who has been minimized, misunderstood, or expected to push through without support.
And this is also for Keith…
We lost him last year, and I still carry that in a way that doesn’t really leave me. I miss that boy deeply, more than I have words for most days. He’s a huge part of why I do this work the way I do. A turning point in my path—he’s one of the reasons I became even more committed to my career as a therapist—to really seeing people, and not overlooking what’s beneath the surface.
KG changed something in me permanently, and I think about that often—not just in grief, but in purpose. In how I listen, how I hold space, and how I refuse to assume what someone is carrying based on what I can see.
It doesn’t go away, it stays with me, and I try to honor it by the way I show up daily.
At the end of the day, I’m here—living a full, nuanced life with intention, honesty, and gratitude, and I will continue to show up in the ways I can, for myself and for others.
Much love, and God Bless you all. Please don’t forget to practice selfcare—take care of yourself and each other. 💜🕊️🧩
-SV
