I find deep inspiration in the stories of others and their mental health journeys. They have often been a lifeline for me, especially in these recent weeks when my own battlefield has shifted to physical health challenges.

Simple tasks like getting something from a cupboard, making the bed, or stepping into the shower have required help. My husband has had to support me through these daily routines, and I’ve had to face the difficult truth that I could not do it all on my own. It has been a rough stretch, and for a while, I didn’t have the strength to write. That was when I realized my mental health was not on solid ground.

I turned to my recovery toolbox and began searching for the right tools. The first step was admitting that negative thoughts had taken control. My faith was shaky, and my gratitude had slipped low. I knew I needed to reevaluate my needs and goals, and I also had to acknowledge the hard work I was already doing to keep showing up for my medical appointments, to keep patience with my body as it healed from falls and fractures, and to keep moving forward.

One of the hardest moments came after a treatment infusion. The confusion and disorientation that followed left me frightened, and for a day, I felt as though I had hit rock bottom. But even there, I reached for gratitude. Slowly, I found some peace in reminding myself that every day is a new day. We can start over.

I leaned on my faith, my tools, and the love of the people around me, including two who gave me extra strength (you know who you are). Today, I remind myself again: it’s a new day. Smile. Take a deep breath. Take it all in.