Mental Health Awareness Month 2026: More Good Days, Together | Guest Blog
- May 27
- 7 min read
Written by Addie Hartnett
Circles USA National Coach
Each May, communities across the United States observe Mental Health Awareness Month: a time to reflect, learn, and take action around emotional well-being. First established in 1949 by Mental Health America, this observance has grown from a small educational effort into a nationwide movement. What began as a week has evolved into a full month of advocacy, storytelling, and community-building. At Circles USA, we are focused year-round on supporting our communities in making these life-changing connections to support the mental health of Circle Leaders, their families and the communities they call home. Our hope is that this article supports your efforts to support your own mental health and that of those around you.
The theme for Mental Health Awareness Month 2026, “More Good Days Together,” invites a simple but powerful question: what does a good day look like for you, and for the people around you? It’s a reminder that mental health isn’t just an individual concern. It’s something we build, protect, and sustain collectively.
Organizations like Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) and National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) continue to lead this effort, offering toolkits, resources, and campaigns centered on connection. NAMI’s message this year is especially resonant: “Stigma grows in silence. Healing begins in community.” That shift, from silence to connection, is at the heart of this month and the heart of Circles.
Mental health hasn’t always been discussed as openly as it is today. For decades, it lived in the shadows, wrapped in stigma, fear, and misunderstanding. Conversations were avoided, struggles were minimized, and support systems were limited or inaccessible. This reality persists in many communities today. According to the American Psychological Association in 2025, about 84% of adults in the US agree that the term ‘mental illness still carries with it a stigma. This notion is further illustrated in that about 35% of US adults' view of someone would change if they knew they had a mental illness.
The silver lining is that now we have more language, more awareness, and more willingness to engage. In Circles, we’re moving toward education, expanded access to care, and created spaces where people can share their hardships and triumphs without immediate judgment. But progress doesn’t mean the work is finished. It just means we now have a few more tools to support our work.
My Experience: Why This Matters
For me, the message of this month is deeply personal.
Growing up, I observed most of the adults around me treat any major emotional need, especially my own and those within our family, with skepticism, and, in many cases, those needs were dismissed altogether. It wasn’t something openly discussed or taken seriously. As a kid my struggles were often brushed aside, even ridiculed. The idea of seeking help carried a stigma that felt impossible to overcome. Struggling in silence seemed to be the norm.
Later, when I was studying to become a social worker, I was privileged to understand the importance of mental health in a professional sense. It was something to support in others; clients, communities, systems. But the stigma I inherited in my early years made it feel abstract, almost distant. I had this imperceivable block that prevented me from seeing any of my own needs. It didn’t feel personal. It didn’t feel like something that applied to me.
Looking back, I realize that, as a society, we were still defining mental health quite narrowly. It seemed as if the only moments that we should be concerned about our own mental health was in a severe crisis. And that I couldn’t possibly experience a crisis. A mental health crisis was reserved only for “other people”.
I had to learn vulnerability to ask for help, to be the “other people” who were allowed to be in crisis. I couldn’t be the one showing up to help others anymore.
That perspective shifted dramatically after I experienced a major community tragedy: the Pulse nightclub shooting. Pulse was one of the few spaces in my community that felt supportive of my queer identity. It was a place that celebrated this aspect of myself in a world that historically attempted to erase it. After years of community leaders twisting sacred texts to convince me and my community to change, I had finally found a place where I could simply exist; unaltered, unapologetic. And while I wasn’t physically there in the night club that night, many of my friends and others I knew were not so fortunate. This space that showed me that it was okay to be authentically me was horrifically compromised when a hateful person unloaded rounds and rounds of vitriol into the precious bodies of my community, my loved ones, my safe spaces. This experience pulled my sense of safety out from underneath me. I came face-to-face with a profound and debilitating sense of loss. All the stigma, shame and silence I learned in childhood broke open. I was in need of a level of care that I couldn’t give myself. In this time, I had to learn vulnerability to ask for help, to be the “other people” who were allowed to be in crisis. I couldn’t be the one showing up to help others anymore.
That moment made something clear: we can’t support others without also tending to ourselves. Working in helping professions—or even just being an engaged, empathetic community member—requires an outlet. Without appropriate outlets, the weight accumulates. After struggling with my own attempts to numb and escape the pain of this wildly complex and tragic experience, I was able to let my guard down, access free therapy thanks to the millions of dollars donated toward our community's recovery, and start practicing yoga and meditation. It was our local Circles community that surrounded me with the unwavering support needed to make the bold choice to seek help.
It was our local Circles community that surrounded me with the unwavering support needed to make the bold choice to seek help.
Self-Maintenance vs. Self-Care
When we talk about outlets for our mental health, we often jump straight to “self-care.” But there’s an important distinction to make. The foundation of self-care is something I like to call self-maintenance. It’s about stability, meeting the basic needs that allow our minds and bodies to function. These include hydration, nutrition, sleep, shelter, hygiene, safety, and a sense of belonging. These are more like prerequisites for mental and emotional well-being. These aren’t luxuries. But for folks experiencing poverty it can be difficult to piece together the resources to maintain all of these. Circles builds community around Circle Leaders so they don’t have to manage their self-maintenance on their own. When this foundation is set, Circle Leaders have more bandwidth to focus on the next level: self-care. And that's true for all of us.
Self-care is more flexible and personal. It involves both activities you add to your life that bring restoration or joy, as well as boundaries you set to protect your time and energy.
For me, self-care means nature, therapy, journaling, and yoga. For others, it could be time with friends, creative expression, or simply learning to say “no”. The key is intentionality; choosing what supports you, and removing what consistently drains you.
But here’s the challenge: we’re living in a high-cost, fast-paced environment where everything feels urgent. Many people feel like they’re constantly choosing between caring for others and caring for themselves.
That’s not sustainable.
This is where the community care that Circles provides comes in.
Community care seeks to expand the responsibility of support beyond the individual. And for those of us in helping professions like Circles, we have to move past our identity as “helper” and ask: how does my community show up for me in meaningful, consistent ways? Does that question sound selfish to you? Take it as an invitation to be a bit more selfish; to seek out a community who doesn’t only rely on us for support, but also reaches out to care for us too.
Mutual aid, a system where people share resources, skills, and support directly within their communities, can teach us a lot about what this kind of community care can do. Our first thoughts on mutual aid may center around material needs like food, money, or housing. Allow that definition to expand to include psychosocial and emotional support:
Checking in on a friend
Offering a listening ear
Sharing experiences to reduce isolation
Creating spaces like Circles where people feel seen and understood
When we build networks of care, we reduce the pressure on any one individual to “do it all” alone.
Turning Awareness into Action
Mental Health Awareness Month isn’t just about reflection, it’s about action. The habits we build in May can shape how we show up for ourselves and others throughout the year.
So what’s your next step?
Start small, but start intentionally.
1. Create a self-care plan. Not something aspirational but something realistic. What do you need daily, weekly, and monthly to feel grounded? What boundaries need to be set?
2. Identify your self-maintenance gaps. Are you getting enough rest? Eating regularly? Feeling safe and connected? Addressing these basics can make a significant difference.
3. Engage in community care. Who are your people? How can you both give and receive support? Is there a mutual aid effort you can join or start?
4. Share your story. Silence reinforces stigma. Connection dismantles it. You don’t have to share everything, but even small moments of honesty can open doors for others.
5. Advocate for change. Whether it’s in your workplace, school, or local community, push for policies and practices that support mental health like accessible care, fair workloads, and inclusive environments.
More Good Days, Together
A “good day” doesn’t have to mean perfect. It might simply mean manageable. Connected. Safe. Hopeful. And those days are easier to come by when we’re not navigating life in isolation. Finding or starting a Circles community may be just the medicine we need.
Mental health awareness has come a long way! From silence and stigma to education and hope. But the next step isn’t just awareness. It’s integration. It’s making mental health part of how we live, work, and relate to one another every day.
This month, consider what a good day looks like for you.
Then ask: how can we create more of those days, together?
More from on mental health from Circles USA:
Building Community to End Poverty for 25+ Years
