Hi, I'm Sara. I am a wife, mom of 1, mental health registered nurse, Psychiatric Mental Health Nurse Practitioner student, volunteer, advocate, and a person who knows firsthand that mental health is rarely as straightforward as it looks on paper.
The perspective behind the page.
I'm not here because I've figured it all out. I'm here because I haven't.
Unwell, Actually was created for the conversations that make people uncomfortable, the thoughts we don't always say out loud, and the parts of mental illness that don't fit neatly into a story. The messy parts. The contradictory parts. The parts that are hard to explain, harder to admit, and occasionally so absurd that all you can do is laugh or cry.
This isn't a space for toxic positivity or pretending that everything happens for a reason. It's a space for honesty, curiosity, dark humor, and the realization that being self-aware doesn't automatically make you well-adjusted.
I'm just a person trying to understand the human brain, navigate the chaos of being human, and put words to experiences that can sometimes feel impossible to explain.
If you've ever felt like your own mind was simultaneously your greatest mystery and your worst roommate, you're probably in the right place.
Welcome to the uncomfortable.
The why.
My interest in mental health isn't rooted solely in textbooks, science, or clinical experience. It's also rooted in lived experience-in navigating my own mental health and learning what it means to seek help when you're struggling to make sense of what's going on in your own mind.
I know how isolating it can feel when you're struggling with something you can't quite explain. When you wonder if anyone else thinks this way. When you finally find a word for what you've been experiencing, but still don't know what the hell to do with it. When you look for answers and somehow end up with even more questions.
That's where Unwell, Actually comes in.
I'm not here to pretend I have it all figured out. I'm here to question what we think we know, pull apart the things we're taught to keep quiet, and make sense of the beautiful, bizarre, occasionally fucked-up experience of being human.
If something I write helps someone feel understood, encourages them to ask a question they've been afraid to ask, helps them make sense of an experience, or reminds them that they're not the only person going through some weird, difficult, scary shit, then this space is doing what I hoped it would do.
So, welcome to Unwell, Actually.
Let's talk about the things we don't talk about enough.