Emotional Well-Being: Care for Head and Heart

Content note: This post touches on sensitive topics, including emotional well-being and crisis support. Give yourself permission to pause if anything here feels heavy.

Mental health is a topic we hear about often, and I want to offer a lens from my own observations. As a multisport coach, I know emotional well-being is a huge part of supporting athletes, humans juggling work, family, life’s curveballs, training, and racing. And this isn’t just for athletes. Emotional well-being touches all of us, because behind every schedule, job, or responsibility is a person navigating their own story.

I’ve thought about this for many years. With everything going on in the world, the intensity we’re all living and feeling, my inner writer finally nudged me to put these thoughts into words and share them. Even then, it took me three weeks to write. That’s why there haven’t been any new blog drops lately. I’ve been at my desk, on my sofa, even sitting in bed with my computer, working through the process of pulling these thoughts from my head and shaping them into something I could share.

I’m not here to give you a lecture or a checklist of tips. Hopefully this is just a well-timed pause in the busy of life. Because sometimes what we really need isn’t more advice, it’s a reminder that a caring friend is close by. If you ever need one, I sincerely mean it when I say: please reach out. This isn’t Coach Jennifer talking; this is Your Friend Jennifer.

I’m not an expert in mental health, but I understand it in the way life has taught me: through living, survival, reflection, becoming a mother, therapy, curiosity, and my triathlon journey. I’ve read and learned along the way, not just to help myself, but so I can show up as a better version of myself for others.

And yet, even with that understanding, I often find myself coming up short when I read content about “taking care of your mental health.” Much of it circles the surface, repeating the same phrases, and leaves me wanting more depth.

To be clear, I’m not dismissing anyone else’s content. So much of it is written with thoughtful care and good intention. I’m speaking from my own experience, and it made me wonder: if I feel this way, maybe others do too.

That’s why I’m writing this. If it still feels thin to me, even after years of doing my own work, how does it land for someone else? My hope is to make the words we hear so often feel less like buzzwords and more like something we can connect with.

The phrase “mental health” gets tossed around everywhere: podcasts, news feeds, campaigns, casual conversations. Because it’s everywhere, it can start to lose impact. When I hear it, I still ask myself: what does that actually mean, and do people really understand? Too often it feels like we’re just nodding along, repeating the words without digging into them. Like “fake it till you make it,” we say it because it sounds right, but deep down we might not actually know how to live it or what it asks of us.

Sometimes the term lands as heavy, clinical, or even stigmatizing, carrying generations of labels and rules that make people back away instead of lean in. And while mental health can be complex, there’s also an everyday layer: the ways we process emotions, relate to ourselves, recover from stress, connect with others, and create the life we want. This isn’t meant to minimize the deeper complexities of mental health, only to bring focus to the part we live with day to day. Of course, what exists outside this everyday layer is just as important, and I don’t have the qualifications to delve into that. What I can offer is perspective and care for the human side we navigate together.

That’s why, for this blog, I want to set the term “mental health” aside and talk about emotional well-being instead: your inner fitness, the health of your head and your heart.

This isn’t about labels or diagnoses. We were all raised in environments that shaped how we manage feelings, stress, and connection, and that spectrum, from healthy to dysfunctional, is wide. Our families, communities, and cultures influence how we respond to life’s big and small moments. Sometimes those beliefs serve us, and other times they hold us back.

Meanwhile, life itself is noisier and faster than it used to be. Technology keeps us wired. News cycles hammer and never stop. Workplaces and schools demand more. Even our food system shifts how we feel.

All of this presses on our nervous systems in ways our bodies didn’t evolve for. That background churn makes even small moments harder, and it helps explain why advice that looks simple on paper can feel impossible in real life. Because when you’re already running on empty, “just take a walk,” “hydrate,” or “get more sleep” isn’t just a suggestion. It feels like climbing a mountain. The nervous system doesn’t distinguish between a headline that spikes anxiety, a ping from your inbox, or a real crisis at home; it just keeps adding weight to the load you’re carrying. By the time you hear those quick-fix suggestions, your body and mind may be too flooded to act on them. That’s why protecting your emotional well-being, and building inner fitness step by step, matters more than ever.

And sometimes, the weight isn’t just about daily stress. It builds to a point where reaching for help feels necessary, even urgent.

That’s why I want to pause here and talk about crisis hotlines. Because the unknown can be the thing that stops someone from dialing. If we’re going to put help out into the world, a phone number, a sign, a social post, let’s also give people the context so they know what to expect. A little clarity can make the doorway to asking for help feel a lot easier to open.

I often see posts that share a crisis number with care: “If you’re struggling, call this.” I also see people offering to hold space for friends and neighbors, which matters deeply.

But what we don’t often talk about is what actually happens if you do reach out. The truth is, it’s often simpler and kinder than you might expect. On the other end of the line is a real person, trained to listen first without judgment and without rushing you. They’ll ask a few gentle questions to understand what’s happening in your world right now and whether you’re safe.

Together, you’ll make a practical, short-term plan: maybe staying on the line a bit longer, contacting someone you trust, removing anything in your environment that could cause harm, or getting connected to local resources. The goal is simple and immediate: help you feel safer and less alone in the moment.

Text and chat services work the same way, just in messages. A trained person checks in, listens, and helps you move from a “hot” moment toward calmer coping options. Most of these conversations are confidential, but if there’s an imminent safety risk and a safety plan can’t be agreed on, the responder may involve local emergency services. That’s only a last resort.

Crisis lines can be life-saving, but they’re just one piece of the picture. The other piece is the everyday support we give each other. Our ways of connecting have shifted; in-person contact happens less, while texting has become the default. That shift fills some gaps but also leaves others wide open, because our nervous systems are wired for human presence, not just pings on a screen.

That’s why even simple check-ins matter. A friend recently described what we all carry as an “invisible backpack,” and it stuck with me because it’s true. Each of us has one, filled with the weight of our own stress, emotions, responsibilities, and stories. Some days the pack feels light; other days, it’s so heavy we can barely move forward.

The thing is, we can’t see what’s inside anyone else’s pack. And yet, it shapes how they show up in the world, just as yours shapes how you do. That’s why the small gestures of connection matter so much: a quick text to check in, a kind word in the grocery line, a smile, or a simple compliment. Those little moments don’t just ease the load for the person you reach toward; they help you shine too. That energy spreads through you and grows. Even on the days when you feel weighed down or stuck in a funk, choosing to give a little light can be the very thing that lifts you, too.

And just like those small gestures matter, so does the support we allow ourselves. For me, that includes therapy. I see two therapists: one who helps me process the PTSD from my bike crash, and another who helps me build tools to move through daily life with more steadiness and grace. Therapy has been one of the most important ways I care for my emotional well-being, and I’m grateful for the support it gives me in all areas of my life and helps how I show up in the world.

I know this is a big subject, one that reaches into psychology, research, and layers of human experience far beyond what I could ever cover here. My goal wasn’t to explain it all, but to set aside the big, sweeping language and bring it closer to everyday life, to the human side we all live with: emotional well-being, inner fitness, and the kind of support we all deserve. What I’ve shared here is just one small piece, written with care and honesty, in the hope that it gives you a moment to pause and a reminder that you matter and you are loved.

You don’t have to carry it all alone. Support is real, and so is your strength. Wherever you are today, may you feel a little more seen, a little less alone, and reminded that you are worth the same care you so often give to others.

Emotional well-being is a practice, not a finish line. It grows in the quiet work of caring for yourself in ways that make life feel more possible. And you deserve that care, not someday, but today.

Thank you for being here.
Keep SHINING!

Disclaimer: I’m not a mental health professional. What I’ve shared here comes from my own reflections and experiences, not as medical advice. If you need more support, please reach out to a qualified provider or a crisis line.