A raw and honest chronicle of mental health advocacy, personal challenges, and gratitude through the lens of a social worker's daily reflections.
Mikel Stull
Published on Jan 16, 2025
A raw and honest chronicle of mental health advocacy, personal challenges, and gratitude through the lens of a social worker's daily reflections.
Today is the start of a new me. A healthy me. A me who doesn’t flinch at their reflection. A me who can confidently walk shirtless at the pool without clutching pillows against my stomach to hide the “happy” marriage weight I’ve gained. While the physical aspect is just a quarter of this challenge, it’s the part of my life that feels most out of balance right now.
I truly believe this holistic approach can benefit not just me, but anyone willing to embrace it. When I eat well and exercise daily, I won’t just feel healthier - I’ll look healthier too, naturally boosting my day-to-day confidence. But I know this challenge demands something I desperately need more of: discipline.
One of my biggest fears is failing. Failing to follow through, to stay accountable, to be the role model this challenge needs. As someone who helped create this concept, I feel immense pressure. After all, if I can’t complete it myself, what right do I have to champion it to others? I know the system works - I’m the only variable that could compromise its success.
I’ve never felt this mix of excitement and nervousness about taking care of myself. Thankfully, I’m not doing this alone - I wouldn’t make it past day one if I were. My wife, best friends, and those brave enough to join this challenge will help keep me accountable, just as I’ll do for them.
This has real potential for good. It could give people a practical tool to build discipline and develop healthy, consistent, lifelong routines that transform them completely. I’ve never journaled before, but this feels more like a blog. As I write, I’m wondering what might happen if I took my own organization’s advice and exercised something even more challenging than my body - vulnerability - by sharing these inner thoughts with the world.
Full transparency, I did not want to get out of bed this morning. Faith and I have decided that if we want to stay consistent with working out, we must find time in our already busy and chaotic schedule. That’s why we painstakingly wake up at 5:40 a.m. to head to the gym. I grew up going to the gym early in the mornings during my later high school years with my father and a cold Body Armor drink, so I was actually excited for this. Until I remembered that was 8 years ago and is no longer a consistent practice in my life.
I am sore. I am sick of water, but I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. A lot of things in life seem like they would be simple, but once you actually try your hand at them, you realize how challenging they truly are. Despite this, I remain optimistic and don’t feel too different throughout the day, minus the soreness.
I’d like to shift this journal to not just my experience doing this 77-day challenge, but to include other thoughts, life updates, and whatever other nonsensical thoughts populate my inner dialogue. Someone today said, “I am sad” and I instinctively just asked what was wrong. They responded, “wow you sounded like a therapist who actually cares.” That gave me a bit of a chuckle.
I enjoy my career path now despite having no idea how I got here. This was never the path I saw myself embarking on, but I genuinely love what I do. I get to help make a difference in multiple ways - through ministry, social work, mental health advocacy - while stretching my creative muscles as well. That being said, I often wonder what my future would look like if I made a massive pivot towards something else I’ve desired: therapy. And by that, I mean returning to school to become a therapist, not attend it for myself, though I think I desperately could use it. How hypocritical that feels to write down.
I would much rather see myself on one side of the couch than the other, because sitting down and freely exposing myself and my past seems like a nightmare. I got a small taste of this nightmare this evening during our meeting with the child placing agency worker as my wife and I begin our foster parenting journey. Part of this process involves a thorough individual questionnaire about childhood experiences, how I conduct myself, and how I perceived my upbringing and caregivers. I watched as Faith spoke freely and recollected her past effortlessly, while I felt impending dread knowing I would have to go next.
I hate talking about myself, specifically early childhood experiences, as there are some moments from which I will truly never escape. I hate feeling like a victim, but I cannot mention the past without sounding like one. Maybe I haven’t truly accepted that I was indeed a victim - of abandonment, of loss, and of stolen innocence as a child. I know that repressing and forgetting these experiences won’t help me in the slightest, but I truly have no idea how to tackle them. I work so hard to not let these things and a victim mentality consume me or excuse me from a normal life, but sometimes I wonder if I’m overcompensating and tirelessly pursuing success because of it. Which is ridiculous, as I can’t even articulate what success would look like in my life. It’s not money, I don’t think it’s good deeds either, so what is it?
Today was a good day. I remain optimistic about this challenge, and I keep getting exciting ideas that add so much potential. My main worry is whether these fantastic ideas will ever translate from my mind into reality, even though they make perfect sense. Part of me wants to pour every ounce of determination into launching Unmasked Culture successfully, while the other half is paralyzed by fear of failure.
I don’t want this fear to hold me back, but I struggle to overcome it. What’s ironic is that no one except me is holding me to such impossibly high standards. I’m quite self-aware that I’m the only one setting these unrealistic expectations, yet I keep mentally setting myself up for failure. I have ideas that I believe could genuinely change the world, but I’m either too scared to start or I battle internal criticism telling me I’m full of myself and these ideas will never amount to anything.
I had a great conversation with my friend today during our podcast - another project I believe could help people, but again, I fear failure. At least I’ve taken the first step, and we’ve been working on it consistently. Speaking of which, I have essentially one day to complete and post this month’s episode, since tomorrow’s a holiday (as I promised my friend I wouldn’t work). The episodes we filmed tonight were really great, though difficult. I shared some of my recent journal reflections and realized how much I value this time of self-reflection and putting my thoughts on paper.
My biggest concern since starting this mental health journey is the glaring sense of hypocrisy I feel. I excel at helping others - listening, encouraging, and working through their emotions and circumstances - yet I struggle to do the same for myself. It reminds me of the scripture about pointing out the splinter in another’s eye while having a log in your own. Thankfully, a professor once shared valuable insight with me: “The issue isn’t pointing out the splinter in your brother’s eye; it’s ignoring the log in your own eye and pretending it’s not there. That’s where the hypocrisy lies.”
With this in mind, I try to maintain self-awareness about my imperfections and acknowledge that it’s okay to struggle while helping others. If anything, this adds relatability to our shared experiences. I’ve often heard people trying to inspire from a place of complete healing, of having everything figured out, but I’ve found that less helpful in my own journey. Instead, I find more comfort in knowing others might be struggling too, and we can support each other simultaneously. That said, I do find hope in hearing from those who’ve made it through - though this really depends on where I am mentally.
I am thankful to be here. I am thankful to be alive. I think back to a time when I could never imagine myself saying or thinking something so simple, but it’s true. I am thankful to be alive.
Today is Thanksgiving, and I’m reminded of that old hymn from my traditional church upbringing: “Count your blessings, name them one by one; Count your blessings, see what God hath done.” I don’t have enough paper to write down all the things in my life that I’m grateful for, but here are a few that come to mind:
I am thankful for a loving and grace-filled Father in heaven who has spared my life, gives me hope when I need it, strength when I am weak, forgiveness when I make mistakes, breath in my lungs every day, a beating heart, and the assurance of eternity with Him.
I am thankful for my wife, who supports me, loves me, and stays by my side through my ups and downs, my highs and lows, my moments of motivation and inspiration, and the times when I feel like giving up.
I am thankful for my parents who raised me, taught me how to live a life pleasing to the Lord, set an example, showered me with encouragement, and gave me unconditional love.
I am thankful for friends who let me be myself, who show interest in my crazy, farfetched ideas, and who I can turn to when I simply need someone to just be there.
I am thankful for my dogs who warm my feet at night and greet me like I’ve been gone for years when I come home. I am thankful for my fish, even though they stress me out as I try so hard to be a good fish dad. I am thankful for my church family to rely on and surround myself with. I am thankful for my grandparents, both those still here and those who have passed, who love and support me, make me laugh, tease me, and hug me.
Looking back to darker times, I wish I could have opened my eyes to all these blessings God has given me. It’s hard to see the good things around you when darkness creates a vignette around your vision and you’re constantly looking down.
There’s so much more than what’s on this list, but I need to remember to return to these thoughts when I feel that darkness hovering. I need to remember who I am, who’s in my corner, who gives me strength, and that I don’t need to push through alone or by my own power. I need to exercise thanksgiving every day, which helps me understand why we must turn to God daily with thanksgiving in our hearts - not just for Him, but as reminders to ourselves.
Happy Thanksgiving.
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