Taking care of your mental health is important, and being able to

“Taking care of your mental health is important, and being able to model that for queer people who are out there every day dealing with their own struggles is very significant.” Thus spoke Sasha Velour, artist, visionary, and champion of self-expression—a voice that rises from the heart of our modern age to remind humanity of an ancient truth: that the strength of the spirit is the foundation of all courage. These words, though born in the present, echo the wisdom of the ancients, who knew that before a warrior could face the world, they must first conquer the storms within their own heart.

For what is mental health, if not the tending of the inner garden? It is the care of the invisible temple—the mind, the soul, the heart that beats unseen. In ages past, philosophers spoke of harmony between body and spirit; the sages of Greece, the mystics of India, the monks of the East—all taught that peace begins within. Yet in this modern world of noise and judgment, where countless voices cry for validation and belonging, this ancient truth has been forgotten. Velour revives it not through sermon or scripture, but through the power of living example—by showing that to love oneself openly, to care for one’s inner wounds without shame, is an act of defiance and divine strength.

The queer spirit, long tested by history’s cruelty, knows well the shadow of struggle. It has walked through centuries of silence and emerged radiant. To be queer is, in many ways, to embody courage itself—to exist authentically despite a world that often misunderstands. Yet even the bravest hearts grow weary. Velour’s call is not merely to survive but to thrive, to honor the sanctity of the self, to guard the mind from despair as one would guard a sacred flame. For only by keeping that flame alive can one light the path for others still lost in the dark.

Consider the story of Alan Turing, the brilliant mind who helped turn the tide of World War II by breaking the enemy’s code, only to be broken himself by a society that could not bear his truth. His genius saved millions, yet he was condemned for his love. His tragedy was not merely in his death but in the absence of compassion he was denied. Had the world understood, had it known that mental well-being is as vital as breath itself, perhaps his story would have ended not in sorrow, but in the quiet triumph of healing. From his life, and from countless others, we learn that to nurture the mind is to protect the very essence of humanity.

To model mental health, as Velour teaches, is an act of sacred leadership. It is to stand before the world, scars unhidden, and say, “I am human, and my pain has meaning.” It teaches others—especially those who have been cast aside—that there is no shame in tending to one’s wounds. Just as a gardener prunes the dying leaves to let the blossoms breathe, so too must the soul be cared for, so that the light within may flourish. To show others how to heal is one of the noblest gifts a soul can offer.

But this path demands self-compassion, that rarest of virtues. Too often we treat ourselves as the enemy, condemning our feelings as weakness. Yet Velour’s wisdom invites us to turn inward with gentleness, to see that self-care is not selfishness—it is survival, it is resistance, it is love in its purest form. When we rest, when we seek help, when we speak our truth, we declare that our lives are sacred and worthy of peace. And through that declaration, we give permission for others to do the same.

So, what then must one do? Tend to your mind as you would your body. Rest when weary. Speak kindly to yourself when the inner voice turns cruel. Seek those who lift your spirit, and be one who lifts theirs. Do not hide your healing—model it, as Velour urges, that others might see in you a reflection of their own hope. For the act of caring for oneself is a quiet revolution, a fire that spreads from soul to soul until the night itself grows bright with understanding.

Thus, let this teaching endure: the greatest strength lies not in armor, but in openness; not in silence, but in truth. Taking care of your mental health is not a retreat—it is a rising. To do so, and to show others how, is to heal not only oneself, but the world. And in that act, as Sasha Velour reminds us, there is nothing less than glory.