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Mental Health Awareness Month: Honoring Invisible Differences and Disabilities



May is Mental Health Awareness Month—a time to pause, reflect, and advocate for what so often goes unseen. This year, I want to speak directly to families like ours—families living the daily reality of invisible differences and disabilities. Because unless you’ve lived it, it’s hard to understand how heavy invisible battles can be—and how deeply they shape every part of life.


The Hidden Weight of Anxiety and Depression

As we step into May, it’s important to know that the first week is dedicated specifically to Anxiety and Depression Awareness. These two invisible challenges touch millions of lives — quietly, profoundly, and often without notice from the outside world. For many families, anxiety and depression are not “topics of the month”—they are daily realities that shape how we live, love, and support one another.


They are the uninvited guests at breakfast tables.

The tension that thickens the air during morning routines.

The silent battles fought behind closed doors when simply showing up feels impossible.


To honor Anxiety and Depression Awareness Week, and for every family living this unseen reality, I want to pause here and share a little bit of our personal journey—because behind every statistic is a story, and behind every story is a family doing their very best.

If you’ve ever helped a child through morning anxiety, you know it’s not just “nerves.”


It’s a full-body shutdown.

It’s tears at the breakfast table.

It’s shoes that won’t go on because “they feel wrong.”

It’s the clock ticking louder and louder as the school bell looms.


And sometimes, it’s giving up—and staying home—because forcing it would mean an emotional fracture you can’t repair by 8:00 a.m.


In our family, anxiety wasn’t always visible until it was impossible to ignore. There were mornings when getting to school felt like surviving a tornado—and mornings when it just didn’t happen. And those missed days added up.


In the eyes of the school system, it became chronic absenteeism.

In the eyes of our family, it was survival.


What people don’t see is the aftershock:

The guilt.

The explaining.

The fear of being labeled “neglectful” or “irresponsible.”

The desperate prayer that tomorrow will be better.


When anxiety or depression is the mountain in the morning, truancy isn’t about rebellion—it’s about capacity. And that’s a truth many systems still fail to recognize.


The Data Behind the Struggles — and What It Means


The numbers in Indiana paint a stark picture:  

That’s not a handful of kids. That’s nearly one in five students missing school at a level that alarms the system—without the system fully asking why.


Additionally, mental health services are critically underfunded and understaffed:


Imagine…

One psychologist, trying to support thousands of hurting young souls. It’s no wonder so many families feel like they’re shouting into the void when asking for help.


Why Families Need Support — Not Discipline


Too often, systems ask:

“Why aren’t you here?”

“Why are you late again?”

“Why are your grades slipping?”


But what families need is for someone to ask:

“What happened this morning?”

“How can we help you get here tomorrow?”

“What support does your family need to heal and strengthen?”


Families aren’t trying to dodge responsibility. We are trying to balance survival with hope. When a youth struggles with anxiety or depression, the whole family is impacted:


  • Morning battles leave parents arriving late to work, risking jobs.

  • Siblings absorb the stress and tension.

  • Relationships fray under the strain of trying to “look normal” to the outside world.


And when absentee policies punish without understanding, they drive a wedge between schools and families—the very two systems that should be working together.

The result? Families retreat. Students shut down. And invisible struggles become even more invisible.


Recognizing the Spectrum of Invisible Disabilities

Anxiety and depression are two faces of this larger conversation. But there are countless others whose struggles we can’t always see: 

  • Autism Spectrum Disorder—especially for those who mask in public and crumble at home.

  • Deafness and Hard of Hearing—where communication barriers breed isolation.

  • Severe PTSD—where loud noises, crowded hallways, or even a wrong glance can trigger panic.

  • Chronic illnesses like fibromyalgia, juvenile arthritis, POTS—where energy evaporates without warning.

  • Learning disabilities that leave students exhausted from simply trying to keep up.


Invisible doesn’t mean imaginary.

It means real but hidden. It means private battles being fought bravely every day—often with no applause, and sometimes with judgment instead of compassion.


A Loving Call to Action

If you take nothing else from this post, please take this:

Pause before you judge. Ask before you assume. Care before you correct. 


  • When you see a youth missing school—ask: What’s going on beneath the surface?

  • When a student is late every morning—wonder: What battle did they fight to even show up today?

  • When a family seems disorganized, exhausted, or on edge—offer: How can I help?


Because feelings matter.


Because invisible differences are still real differences.


Because no one heals in isolation—and our community can only be as strong as our willingness to see each other fully.


You never know when your compassion might be the turning point for a struggling child—or for a weary parent fighting hard to hold it all together.


People matter. Families matter. Our community matters.


This Mental Health Awareness Month, let’s commit to honoring the invisible with open hearts, open minds, and open hands.


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