Strong Doesn't Mean You Never Struggle: My Mental Health Journey

Accepting the Katie’s Courage Award and sharing my journey with cystic fibrosis and mental health. Some of the hardest parts of my story have also taught me the most about what it truly means to be strong.

When people see me today, they may see a gym owner, coach, runner, husband, father, or someone who spends a lot of time talking about health and fitness. They may see someone who pushes himself physically, owns a business, helps other people reach their goals, and generally seems like he has things figured out. What they don't always see is what's happening inside my head, and that's one of the reasons I wanted to write this blog.

Mental health has been a significant part of my life for years. I've gone through periods when my own thoughts scared me, anxiety felt overwhelming, and I genuinely questioned what was happening to me. I've dealt with OCD and intrusive thoughts that could feel incredibly real and frightening. I've experienced times when I felt disconnected from myself and wondered if I was losing control or going crazy. When you don't understand why your brain is producing certain thoughts and feelings, it can be terrifying.

Today, I understand my mind much better than I did during some of those hardest periods. That doesn't mean I've reached a point where I never struggle or never have a bad day. What has changed is that I've developed tools that help me navigate those periods instead of believing I have to figure everything out on my own. For me, some of the most important tools have been exercise, therapy, journaling, and medication.

Mental Health Struggles Are More Common Than We Realize

One reason I think it's important to talk openly about mental health is because someone can look completely fine on the outside while fighting an incredibly difficult battle internally. According to the National Institute of Mental Health, more than one in five U.S. adults lives with a mental illness. Anxiety disorders are also extremely common, with NIMH estimating that roughly 19% of U.S. adults experience an anxiety disorder in a given year.

Those numbers represent millions of people, yet mental health can still be difficult to talk about. There can be an expectation that we're supposed to keep our struggles private, especially if we're the person other people look to for leadership, strength, or support. I've learned over the years that being strong doesn't mean pretending those struggles don't exist. In many cases, acknowledging them and doing something about them requires more strength than hiding them.

Exercise Has Become About Much More Than Fitness

I've spent a huge portion of my life around exercise. I've studied exercise science, coached people, built a business around fitness, and pushed myself through some pretty extreme endurance challenges. But exercise isn't only physical for me anymore. It has become one of the tools I consistently use to take care of my mental health.

There are days when I run because I have a workout scheduled or because I'm training toward a goal. There are other days when I run because I need the run mentally more than I need it physically. Moving gives me somewhere to put some of that nervous energy. It gives me time away from the responsibilities of owning a business, being a husband and father, and everything else life throws at us. For that period of time, I can focus on putting one foot in front of the other, breathing, and moving forward.

There is science behind that feeling too. The CDC notes that physical activity can provide immediate benefits such as reducing short-term feelings of anxiety and improving sleep, while regular physical activity is also associated with better long-term mental health. But I think it's important to make something clear: exercise isn't a cure for mental illness. It hasn't "cured" mine, and telling someone who is struggling that they simply need to exercise more misses how complicated mental health can be. Exercise is one tool in my toolbox, and I've learned that I need more than one.

Therapy Helped Me Understand My Own Mind

Therapy has been another major part of my journey. There was a time when I didn't understand what was happening inside my head, and when you're dealing with OCD, anxiety, or intrusive thoughts, a thought can feel incredibly important simply because it's disturbing. You start analyzing why you had it, what it means about you, whether you actually believe it, and whether it could somehow become reality. That cycle can become exhausting.

Therapy helped me better understand how my mind works and taught me that having a thought doesn't automatically mean I agree with it, want it, or need to do something about it. More importantly, therapy gave me tools for how to respond when anxiety and intrusive thoughts show up. It also gave me a place where I could say things out loud that I might have been terrified or embarrassed to tell someone else.

That has been a huge lesson for me. Therapy isn't about having someone magically solve every problem in your life. For me, it's been about understanding myself better, recognizing patterns, learning healthier ways to respond, and having someone who can challenge the way I'm looking at a situation. Asking for professional help wasn't a sign that I couldn't handle life. It was one of the smartest decisions I could make for myself.

Journaling Gives My Thoughts Somewhere to Go

Journaling is much simpler than therapy, but it has become another valuable tool for me. There are times when my mind feels like there are 100 tabs open at once. I might be thinking about the gym, finances, family, running, future goals, something I'm worried about, something that happened earlier in the day, and ten other things all at the same time. Writing gives some of those thoughts somewhere else to go.

I don't have some perfect journaling system, and I'm not trying to write something profound every time I open a notebook. Sometimes I write about what's bothering me. Sometimes it's business. Sometimes it's a goal, a fear, something I'm grateful for, or something I simply need to get out of my head. There is something different about seeing your thoughts written down instead of allowing them to endlessly bounce around inside your mind.

Journaling also forces me to slow down. Something that feels enormous when I'm thinking about it repeatedly can sometimes look very different once I put it into words. It doesn't always solve the problem, but it gives me an opportunity to process what I'm feeling instead of simply reacting to it.

Medication Is Part of My Story Too

I also want to talk openly about something people sometimes hesitate to mention: medication. Medication has been part of my mental-health treatment, and I'm not ashamed of that. For some reason, our society can treat mental-health medication differently from medication used for physical conditions. Someone may have no problem saying they're taking medication for blood pressure, but feel embarrassed telling someone they're taking medication to help manage anxiety, depression, OCD, or another mental-health condition.

I've stopped looking at it that way. Medication isn't the entire answer for me, just like running isn't the entire answer and therapy isn't the entire answer. It's one part of a bigger approach to taking care of myself, and it's something that should be discussed and managed with the appropriate healthcare professional.

Mental-health treatment isn't one-size-fits-all. What works for me may not be what someone else needs, and that's okay. The important thing is being willing to have those conversations and find the combination of tools and professional support that works for you.

There Hasn't Been One Magic Solution

I wish I could say there was one thing I did that suddenly made everything better. There wasn't. My mental health isn't managed by running alone. It isn't managed by therapy alone, medication alone, or journaling alone. For me, it's been the combination of all of them, along with continuing to learn about myself as I get older.

Exercise helps me move. Therapy helps me understand. Journaling helps me process. Medication helps me manage. Together, they've helped me become better equipped to handle the difficult periods when they show up. And they still show up sometimes. That's something I think we need to be more comfortable admitting.

Progress in mental health doesn't necessarily mean reaching a point where you never experience anxiety, intrusive thoughts, stress, fear, or difficult days again. For me, progress has meant understanding those experiences better and knowing what tools I have available when things become difficult. I've learned that having a bad day doesn't erase all the progress I've made.

My Definition of Mental Strength Has Changed

For a long time, I think I viewed strength mostly as the ability to push through things. Work harder. Tough it out. Keep moving. Don't quit. There's certainly value in resilience, and that mindset has helped me through plenty of difficult things in my life. But as I've gotten older, my definition of strength has changed.

Sometimes strength is pushing through a difficult workout or finishing the run when your legs are telling you to stop. But sometimes strength is admitting you're struggling and telling someone you need help. It can be sitting across from a therapist and saying something you're terrified to say out loud. It can be taking your medication, writing down what you're feeling, going for a 20-minute walk because that's all you have in you that day, or simply allowing yourself to have a difficult day without deciding it means you're failing.

I still believe in doing hard things. I still believe in challenging yourself and becoming comfortable with being uncomfortable. But I also believe there is a huge difference between resilience and pretending you're okay when you're not.

Why I'm Sharing This

I'm not sharing my story because I have mental health figured out. I don't. I'm sharing it because there may be someone reading this who looks completely fine or even successful on the outside while struggling internally. Maybe you're a business owner, parent, athlete, coach, teacher, first responder, student, or simply the person everyone else seems to rely on.

You can be strong and still struggle. You can love your life and still experience anxiety. You can be physically fit and still need therapy. You can help other people while sometimes needing help yourself. None of those things contradict each other.

Statistics can tell us that millions of people experience mental-health challenges, but numbers can sometimes feel distant. It's different when someone you're familiar with is willing to say, "I've struggled too." So that's part of why I'm willing to share my story. I've struggled too, and taking care of my mental health deserves the same attention that I give my physical health.

Taking Care of Your Mind Is Part of Being Healthy

At Warrior Fitness & Wellness, we talk constantly about becoming stronger. Usually we're talking about lifting weights, improving endurance, changing body composition, moving better, or becoming more physically capable. But I've come to believe that being healthy and strong is much bigger than what happens inside a gym.

Taking care of ourselves means taking care of our bodies and our minds. For me, that has meant running, lifting, therapy, journaling, medication, and continuing to learn more about myself. Your tools may look completely different from mine, and that's okay. Mental health is personal, and there isn't one path that works for everyone.

I'll continue training my body because I love seeing what it's capable of. I'll also continue working on my mind because I've learned just how important that is. And I'll continue talking about both because I don't believe mental health is something any of us should feel like we have to hide.

Being strong doesn't mean you never struggle. Sometimes being strong means recognizing the struggle, getting the help you need, and continuing to move forward.