By Dr. Anupama Vaidya (hc)
Last year, in October
2024, I wrote my piece Mind First: Because All Well-Being Starts Upstairs!
a reflection that struck a deep chord, both within me & with many of you
who shared your thoughts afterward. The responses reinforced my belief that
these conversations matter, and they encourage me to continue this endeavour:
to share reflections that not only mirror my own journey but also offer
signposts to support and inspire you in yours.
Mental well-being, thus,
isn’t a one-time conversation; it’s a lifelong practice. Which is why I return
to it again this year, using World Mental Health Day – October 10 – as a
reminder to pause, to reflect, and to build upon what was shared before.
This year, the message
feels even more personal — a true journey of contrasts. On one hand, life
brought milestones that filled me with joy and gratitude; on the other, there
were moments of silence, self-doubt, unanswered questions, and inner battles only
I could see. And isn’t that what makes us deeply human? To carry storms and sunrises side by side,
learning to hold both with equal grace.
Amidst these contrasts
were moments to cherish – milestones that affirmed growth, progress, and the
beauty of possibility. Some unforgettable firsts: being featured as one of Sheroes
in Sheroes Amongst Us, authored by Falguni Desai, and Dr. Amit Nagpal; receiving
an Honorary Doctorate in Strategic Innovation with specialization in Business
and People Transformation and being a part of the Protagonist Show-Game of
Chess by Jyoti Rai and Etherwire.ai. Each of these was not just a recognition but also a powerful reminder of
the value of purpose, persistence and passion.
With these highs were
moments of silence, moments of continuing to lose close friends to eternity, moments of discovery and
surrender, reminding me that growth often happens in the quiet in-betweens. Together,
these highs and lows reinforced one truth: that a positive mindset makes a
profound difference. It doesn’t erase the challenges, but it softens their
edges, allowing me to hold on to hope, perspective, and resilience.
This mixed bag of experiences
both joyful and difficult, has reminded me again and again, that tending to the
mind is not a luxury, it is a necessity. And just as the seasons turn,
revisiting mental well-being each year allows us to notice what has shifted
within us, what still aches, and what has begun to heal. Why repeat? Because
much like annual health check-ups or festive traditions, mental well-being
needs rituals of remembrance. Left unchecked, it slips into the background. But
when brought back into focus, it becomes the anchor that steadies everything
else.
It was through these
lived experiences that the A’s of Mental Well-being revealed themselves more
vividly this year — not just as abstract principles, but as daily companions
guiding me through both celebration and struggle. I found myself returning
again and again to the 6-As framework I shared last year — not as a neat
checklist, but as a living practice, and deepened into a 7th A –
Anchor – the grounding force that holds everything together. This evolution
reflects not just a framework, but a living practice that shifts meaning with
every season of life.
The 7A’s of Mental Well-being – Through my lens of personal practice
and lived reflection.
Awareness: Catch the whispers before they become storms. Recognize shifts in energy and thought before they spiral — it’s the first act of self-care.
Acknowledgment: Name what you feel without masking it. Saying “This is what I feel” lightens the heart and opens the door to healing.
Acceptance: Not resignation, but release. Meet life as it comes, and redirect energy from resistance to renewal
Action: Healing and resilience don’t happen in silence. Take that one small step — reach out, speak up, or simply breathe — to keep moving toward light.
· Adaptation: Flow with what unfolds. Strength lies not in rigidity, but in the grace to bend without breaking.
Appreciation: Pause to honour the journey. Gratitude transforms what we have into enough, and every moment into meaning.
Anchor: Return to what steadies you — purpose, faith, reflection, or relationships. Anchoring doesn’t stop the storm; it helps you endure it with dignity.
Here's to details on the 7A's for your journey!
Awareness:
Catching
the whispers before they become the storms. Recognizing the subtle shifts
in energy, thought patterns, and emotions before they spiral out of
control. Often, it comes in quiet pauses: noticing when my mind was
starting to get cluttered, when scrolling endlessly was replacing rest,
when overthinking disguised itself as productivity, or when overworking
drained more than what was delivered. In those moments, awareness meant
choosing to pause – to breathe, to step back and to realign.
And it hasn’t been only
about me. In conversations with my loved ones, I’ve seen how awareness is a
gift we can extend to others. Sometimes it’s gently holding up a mirror when I
sense their clutter rising, sometimes it’s helping a mentee recognize the signals
of stress before burnout takes hold. I’ve realized that awareness is not just
personal practice – it’s also compassion in action, the ability to help another
human pause before the spiral.
Acknowledgment:
As I continued working on myself, on becoming conscious
of my subconcious, I’ve kept learning to say “this is what I feel”.
Calling out the emotions honestly without hiding behind “I’m fine” – is
now becoming integral to my being.
It has meant saying: Yes, I am anxious. Yes, I
am grieving. Yes, I feel joy, pride, or even guilt. Not brushing it aside,
not labelling it as weakness but simply calling it out.
I acknowledge joy without downplaying it, grief
without masking it, and doubt without judging it.
Sometimes I said it silently to myself, other times
aloud to my daughter, my mentor or a friend. What I’ve experienced is that
acknowledgment doesn’t make emotions bigger — it makes them lighter. It gives
the heart permission to breathe. And even more so when acknowledging grief,
especially from unexpected loss, has been giving me space to heal without
guilt.
Over time, I realized I had moved from once
believing that acknowledging emotions made me weak, to recognizing it as an act
of courage.
It has been opening the door to healing. And when
I’ve encouraged friends, colleagues, and mentees to name their feelings too,
I’ve seen how powerful it can be to simply say out loud: “This is what I
feel.”
Acceptance:
Integral to me through the years
and not a new lesson, acceptance has been the very strength that has
helped me sail through years of trials. In fact, it is acceptance that has given
me strength to carry on with dignity, even when answers weren’t immediate.
It has often come in waves, not as a passive
surrender, but as an active embrace of reality. I have long understood that I
cannot control everything — not outcomes, not people’s choices, not even the
pace of life.
This year once again reinforced my belief:
acceptance is not resignation, it is release. It is choosing not to resist, not
to replay what has happened, not to cling to outcomes beyond my reach, and not
to wish reality were different. Instead, it is saying to myself: Yes, this
has happened. I cannot change it, but I can choose how I meet it.
Acceptance has softened the sharp edges of grief,
given me calm amidst uncertainty, and allowed me to direct my energy toward
what was still within my control. It has never taken away the pain or
frustration, but it has lightened my resistance, making space for healing and
renewal.
I have seen, both in my life and in the lives of
those I walk alongside, that acceptance is often the hardest step. Yet when it
comes, it is the most freeing - the deep
exhale that restores dignity and strength, even when answers are not immediate.
Action:
If awareness is noticing,
acknowledgment is calling it out and acceptance is releasing, then action
is the choice to move forward, however small the step. Healing and
resilience don’t happen in silence; they require movement.
For me, action has taken many forms. Sometimes it was
reaching out to mentors for perspective or leaning on friends who simply
listened. And now being able to lean on Ishita, my daughter while my mother
continues to be my strength to lean on and listen to a perspective beyond my
own.
At other times, it was putting pen to paper,
journaling truths that were too heavy to carry inside. Action also showed up in
boundaries — saying “no” to protect my space, or saying “yes” to
something that stretched me in new ways.
What I’ve come to understand is that action is not
always dramatic or about fixing everything at once. It’s about breaking the inertia and often,
it’s the small, daily steps that keep the mind moving toward light. A walk
outdoors. A conscious pause to breathe. A phone call that breaks isolation.
These moments remind me I am not stuck.
Each act, however small, becomes a declaration: I
am participating in my healing, not just watching it from a distance. And
when I’ve encouraged others — friends, colleagues, mentees — to take even one
step, I’ve seen how transformative it can be. It’s rarely the size of the step
that matters, but the courage to take it.
Action is where healing takes shape — the bridge
from intention to resilience.
Adaptation:
If action is the choice to move forward,
then adaptation is the art of flowing with what unfolds. This year
reminded me that resilience is not about standing firm against change, but
about learning to move with it – gracefully, thoughtfully, and without
losing my essence.
There were times when
plans didn’t go the way I had envisioned, when timelines stretched, or when
people and situations shifted in ways I couldn’t have predicted. Each time,
adaptation became my quiet teacher. It showed me that flexibility doesn’t mean
weakness; it means strength with softness - the ability to bend without breaking.
In work, it meant
rethinking strategies, accepting new ways of leading, and trusting others to
carry the baton. In life, it meant adjusting to transitions, letting go of
familiar rhythms, and finding new balance. Sometimes adaptation felt
uncomfortable, even unsettling – but it always led me to discover a part of
myself I hadn’t met before.
Over time, I’ve come to
see adaptation as a living expression of resilience. It is what allows us to
remain rooted while the world shifts around us. And when I’ve guided others – colleagues,
friends, or mentees - through their own phases of change, I’ve seen how
adaptation transforms fear into possibility.
Adaptation, to me, is
the gentle reminder that growth isn’t always about pushing harder; sometimes,
it’s about learning to flow.
Appreciation:
If
adaptation is flowing with change, then appreciation is pausing to honour
the journey itself. Through the years, I’ve learned that gratitude is not
reserved only for the extraordinary moments — it lives quietly in the
everyday ones too.
This year, appreciation
continued to be my gentle foundation, holding me steady amid the different tides.
It was there in the milestones – recognitions, achievements, meaningful
collaborations as well as equally in the small, unspoken joys: a morning coffee
that steadied my mind, laughter shared with my daughter and mother, a quiet
message from a friend checking in, or the calm of an evening sky after a long
day, or seeing the flowers bloom in my garden.
Appreciation has been
my steady companion teaching me that life isn’t only about what we endure; it’s
about what we notice while enduring. The simple act of saying “thank
you” - sometimes aloud, sometimes
silently to the universe - shifts my
focus from what was missing to what was already present.
Even in moments of
grief or challenge, gratitude has kept on offering perspective. It has kept on
reminding me that within every experience, there was something to learn,
something to be grateful for – even if it was just the strength to get through
the day.
When I’ve encouraged my
mentees and friends to pause and name what they’re thankful for, I’ve seen how
it transforms their energy. Appreciation has a quiet power - it doesn’t change the circumstance, but it
changes how we carry it.
For me, it continues to
be the soft light that illuminates both the peaks and the valleys, a way of
seeing life not just for what it gives, but for how deeply it allows us to
grow.
Anchor
(the new lesson of 2025)
If appreciation is the light that illuminates
the path, then an anchor is what keeps us from drifting away. Through the
years, I have come to see that no matter how much life shifts, each of us needs
something that quietly holds us steady -
a source of calm amidst the currents of change.
This year, my anchors
revealed themselves more clearly than ever: my purpose, my faith, my
reflections, and the people who remind me of who I am when the noise of the
world grows too loud. They are the spaces I return to when I feel adrift - the
conversations that ground me, the silences that restore me, and the rituals
that remind me to breathe.
Anchoring doesn’t mean
clinging; it means connecting - to what nourishes, centers, and strengthens us
from within. For some, it may be prayer or meditation; for others, nature, art,
or meaningful work. For me, it has been the rhythm of reflection and the
relationships that hold me with understanding and grace.
What I’ve learned is
that peace doesn’t come from still waters; it comes from knowing where to
return when the waves rise. Our anchors don’t stop the storms - they help us
endure them with dignity, steadiness, and heart.
And perhaps that is the
quiet secret of mental well-being: not in escaping the turbulence of life, but
in finding our way back — again and again — to what truly holds us.
Closing Reflections
As I look back, I realize that these 7 A’s are not merely steps or
lessons; they are companions, each one holding a mirror to a different facet of
my being. Together, they are shaping me, how I see, feel, and respond to life.
Because in the end, mental well-being isn’t about the absence of
storms — it’s about learning to find calm in the middle of them. World Mental
Health Day, observed each year on October 10, serves as a gentle reminder that tending to our minds is
not a one-day event; it is an ongoing dialogue with ourselves. Just as we care
for our physical health through regular check-ups, our mental well-being too
needs attention, reflection, and rituals of renewal.
For me, revisiting these A’s each year is now that renewal ritual, a
moment to pause, reflect and realign. It
helps me notice what has shifted within, what still aches, and what has quietly
healed… … with nudging me what I may have overlooked in the healing process.
The journey of mental well-being is neither linear nor loud. It unfolds
quietly, in the silent choices I make every day;
to listen,
to let go,
to act,
to adapt,
to appreciate, and
to return to what steadies me every day.
So, let this World Mental Health Day be a gentle reminder:
to
check in, to care, to listen;
to your mind, your emotions, and the unspoken
stories within.
Pause and Reflect
As you read this, I invite you to take a moment to turn inward and ask
yourself:
- When was the last time
you truly noticed your inner state, not just your schedule?
- What emotions are
waiting to be acknowledged rather than avoided?
- What might acceptance
look like for something you’re still resisting?
- What action, however
small, could help you feel lighter or more aligned today?
- Where in your life are
you being invited to adapt instead of control?
- What can you appreciate
right now, even amidst uncertainty?
- And finally, what or
who is your anchor when life feels adrift?
#MindFirst #MentalWellBeing2025 #WorldMentalHealthDay #MightyMe #Reflection #Resilience #InnerCalm #LeadershipWithHeart
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