The Blog

Breathe: The Overlooked Superpower That Can Change Everything

May is Mental Health Awareness Month—and this year, it has felt more personal than ever. Over the last few weeks, I’ve shared stories close to my heart. The darkness that sometimes wraps around those we love. The helplessness that can arise when someone you care about says they feel broken. The quiet ache of wanting to make it better but knowing we can’t always fix what hurts. But something shifted this week. A moment that, while small, gave me hope. My daughter, in the middle of her own storm, shared this with me: “I’ve been trying to focus more on peace than happiness. Happiness feels far away… but maybe peace is something I can feel even in the middle of this.” That one sentence felt like a gentle light flickering through the fog. Not a full sunrise. But a spark. It reminded me of something I often return to in both yoga and life—non-attachment. Letting go of needing things to be a certain way. Letting go of the illusion of control. Letting go of the constant reaching for happiness as a destination. Instead, choosing peace as a practice. A presence. A home inside yourself. In my final yin class for May, we centered around the breath—our anchor in any storm. We practiced the 4-7-8 breath pattern, paired with the mantra Sat Nam — “Truth is my identity or I am all that I am.” In my final yin class for May, we centered around the breath—our anchor in any storm. We practiced the 4-7-8 breath pattern, paired with the mantra Sat Nam — “Truth is my identity or I am all that I am.” This isn’t about ignoring pain, or pretending things are fine when they’re not. It’s about learning to sit with life as it is—joyful, messy, uncertain—and finding a stillness within that doesn’t depend on the external. I don’t have all the answers. But I know this: Peace isn’t the absence of challenge. It’s the presence of grounding. Of breath. Of acceptance. Of faith. This month has reminded me that mental health is not separate from the rest of us. It’s not just a category on a health form—it’s woven into our relationships, our daily choices, our breath, and our being. So here’s to all of us—those navigating darkness, those seeking light, and those learning how to be both. Here’s to finding peace within—so we can walk through this world with clarity, compassion, and courage. With love and peace in my heart, Nancy The Vibrant Sage 💬 Reflection Prompt for You: Where in your life are you striving for happiness when what you really need… is peace? 📩 Let’s Stay Connected If this blog resonates, I invite you to reply, share it with someone you love, or explore more of The Vibrant Sage journey.

A mother’s reflection on mental illness, soul wounds, and the hidden gold within us all Today, my daughter texted me from a place of deep pain. Her words were raw, heavy, unfiltered: “I feel broken, hopeless. I see no real point in human existence. I wish I was strong enough to end it, but there’s a subconscious will to keep going—and I hate it.” As a mother, my heart cracked open. I wrote back, “That is your soul—your beautiful soul.” She responded: “My soul is not beautiful. It’s disgusting and horrid. That’s not my soul anyway, it’s the human condition. I have no gifts. I only bring more evilness to the world. Humans shouldn’t exist. We kill and destroy.” Breathe. This is the part no one wants to talk about. Not because we don’t care, but because we’re afraid—afraid of saying the wrong thing, of not knowing how to help, of facing the darkness without a flashlight. We live in a world that responds to mental illness with “just try yoga,” or “think happy thoughts,” or “get outside more.” Can you imagine saying the same to someone with a broken leg? Or to someone having a stroke? Or with high blood pressure: “Just relax.” We wouldn’t. Because we know those conditions are real, not just a matter of willpower. And yet we minimize emotional pain. We tiptoe around suffering. We label it as weakness. When in truth, it’s often the strongest among us who feel it most. 

I grew up not knowing what mental health was. My mom was likely depressed, but I didn’t realize it at the time. I just thought drinking screwdrivers (vodka and OJ) at noon was normal. Her yelling? I figured it was my fault—I was too loud, or I’d done something wrong. The mood swings, the unpredictability… that was just “Mom.” Years later, in 2002, I found myself on the other side of the story—this time as a parent. My 15-year-old daughter, struggling with anxiety, was prescribed medication. When it didn’t work, it was stopped abruptly. Days later, she was saying things that made no sense—terrifying things. A week after that, she was admitted to a psychiatric hospital. It was a nightmare I wouldn’t wish on anyone. While I’ve never been formally diagnosed, I know I’ve moved through periods of depression too. Not sad. Not joyful. Just… numb. Neutral. A kind of emotional purgatory.

“The smartest doctor in the room is your own body.”