What my children taught me about mental health

I know May marked Mental Health Awareness Week, but I chose not to say anything at the time. For me, mental health isn't something we should focus on for just one week each year, it's something we should care about every single day.

Mental health is part of being human. We should celebrate and support one another through every stage of our mental wellbeing, whether we're thriving, struggling, or somewhere in between. Today, I'd like to share three stories that have stayed with me.

Story 1

One day, my son asked me, “Mum, do I have mental health?”

“Of course you do,” I replied.

The look on his face surprised me. He looked terrified. In that moment, I realised just how much negativity can be attached to the words mental health. We hear the term so often in the context of crisis or illness that many children, and adults, begin to see it as something bad. But the reality is much simpler: we all have mental health, just as we all have physical health.

We all face challenges, and we all cope differently. Some people find strength within themselves, some need a coffee and a conversation with a friend, and some benefit from professional support. And all of these are okay. What matters is recognising that we are all unique and we all deserve care and compassion.

Story 2

One day, another of my sons came home from school and said, “Mum, I’m depressed.”

I immediately stopped what I was doing and asked, “Why do you think you’re depressed?”

“Because I’m sad and upset,” he replied.

I explained that feeling sad or upset does not necessarily mean you are depressed. Sadness is a normal emotion. We all experience disappointment, grief, frustration, and difficult days. I feel sad sometimes. I get upset. But I also laugh, find joy, and have moments that lift me up again.

Depression is something much deeper and more persistent. It can feel like carrying a weight that never lifts, struggling to find motivation to get out of bed or feeling overwhelmed by even the smallest challenges.

Story 3

My youngest son came home one day and announced, “Mum, I have anger issues.”

“Why do you think that?” I asked.

“Because I get angry sometimes,” he said. “My friend told me that means I have anger issues.”

I smiled and asked him what he does when he feels angry.

“Nothing, really,” he replied. “It makes me sad, and then I move on.”

I explained that feeling angry does not mean you have an anger problem. Anger is a normal human emotion. It only becomes a concern when we struggle to manage it or when it begins to control our behaviour.

I told him, “It’s okay to feel angry. It’s okay to feel sad. Part of growing up is learning to understand our emotions and how to respond to them in healthy ways.”

He thought about that for a moment, then smiled and asked, “So I don’t have anger issues?”

“No, darling,” I said. “You’re just human.”

These everyday conversations stayed with me. So often, children and adults are quick to label perfectly normal emotions as problems. These are just three simple examples of how the language we use as adults can shape the way children understand their emotions. How often do we casually say things like, “This is depressing,” “I’m so angry I need help,” or “He’s gone mental”? Most of us have probably used phrases like these without thinking twice about them.

Children often hear words very differently from adults. They can take them literally, absorb them and begin to associate normal human emotions with something being wrong.

I sometimes wonder whether we have become too quick to label every difficult emotion.

That does not mean we should avoid seeking help when it is needed. Professional support, diagnoses, and medication can, in some cases, be absolutely necessary. But alongside that support, I believe there is also value in helping our children understand their emotions, build resilience, and learn that not every difficult feeling means something is wrong with them.

I say this from personal experience. There was a time when one of my children struggled so deeply he was carrying some very dark thoughts. It was one of the most frightening and heartbreaking periods of our lives, and it is something that still affects us today. We worked hard as a family to provide reassurance, understanding, and support, and slowly we found a way forward.

Every child, every family is different. But if there is one thing these experiences have taught me, it is that our words matter. Sometimes I wonder if our words make it too complicated for children. Young minds absorb everything around them, and they often take our words very seriously.

In our home, we try not to focus on labels or medical terms when talking about everyday emotions. Instead, we talk about the soul, the heart, sadness, worries, excitement, being different, and being blessed.

I am also someone who does not naturally talk about my worries or problems. That is how I was raised and changing that habit is not easy. There is a lot of support available for people who can openly share their feelings, and that is a wonderful thing. But there are also many people who struggle to talk.

People who feel ashamed.

People who are afraid of being judged.

People who think no one cares.

People who do not want to burden others.

People who always find reasons not to ask for help.

People like me.

So, I write. I take a pen and paper and let everything out. Writing helps me make sense of what I feel.

Paper does not judge.

Paper does not interrupt.

Paper does not talk back.

Paper has been my best friend on my darkest days.

And sometimes, simply writing the problem down is the first step towards solving it. Not for one day. Not for one week. But for life.