Mental Health Awareness Month. For Us, It's Personal.
By Chad McLean, Founder of Mental Joe Apparel | May 2026
No matter how far you've come — life will still find a way to knock you down. The work isn't getting to a place where nothing can touch you. The work is knowing how to get back up when it does.
May is Mental Health Awareness Month. And every year, the internet fills up with green ribbons, curated quote graphics, and listicles about self-care. All of it well-intentioned. None of it quite capturing what mental health awareness actually looks like from the inside.
So this year, I'm going to tell you what it looks like from mine. Because that's the whole point of this community. Authenticity over optics. Always.
One Month Since the Fall
A month ago I was injured at the gym. What started as a fall ended with the fire department boarding me out on full spinal precautions — 12 hours not being able to feel or move my right side, not knowing how much damage had been done or what I'd wake up with.
It was a reinjury. And although this one happened inside a gym, it stirred up everything from my burn-in — the jump that went wrong, the old injuries I thought I'd buried, the body memory that doesn't care how many years have passed. It all came back. Trauma has a way of doing that.
Six Years Since I Almost Wasn't Here
This month also marks six years since I almost took my life. Six years since inpatient. Six years since I found my way to alternative healing and made the choice to still be here.
I don't say that for shock value. I say it because May 12th comes every year — and this year I'm sitting with it under a pile of TBI symptoms, hearing aids, and a body that's still catching up. And I'm still here. Still fighting. That part hasn't changed.
Six years of mental health work doesn't make you immune to the hard months. It makes you aware of them.
What Nobody Tells You About Traumatic Brain Injury
Third party testing and the VA both confirmed mild to severe TBI. Speech therapy is lined up. And now — hearing aids are being recommended.
Yeah. Hearing aids.
I did NOT have "being carted out of the gym AND hearing aids AND prism glasses before 50" on my bingo card. And yet. Here we are.
But here's what nobody tells you about TBI: when your brain isn't fully firing, your eyes and ears start working overtime just to compensate. They're straining constantly trying to pick up the slack. Which explains the constant migraines. Which explains why if you've ever been on a call with me and there's background noise, I've probably asked you to stop — and you thought I was just being intense.
I wasn't being intense. My brain was tapping out mid-conversation trying to process everything at once.
Knowing that now? There's this weird moment of grace. Not a pass. Not an excuse. Just an "oh. That actually makes sense. Damn, I wish I'd known this sooner." But my ego and stubbornness weren't having that conversation until now.
Mental Joe Is Struggling Too
I'll be honest — Mental Joe Apparel is going through it in the middle of all of this. I sat with that. Asked myself if I keep doing this.
And then last week happened.
I sat down and had deep, real conversations with six different people — veterans, first responders, average Joes — all of them carrying something heavy, all of them needing help navigating toward it. Six. In one week. While I'm over here barely keeping my own instruments calibrated.
That's not a brag. That's perspective.
Because mental health advocacy doesn't wait for you to be okay first. The people who need support don't pause while you're healing. And if I'm honest, that's exactly why Be the Bridge exists — because the person trying to help others navigate this is also in the middle of it. Not on the other side of it. Never pretending to be.
May Holds Everything
May is a month that my wife Cari and I navigate every single year with a lot of intention.
May 1 — Conor's 9th birthday.
May 12 — Six years since the day I almost decided not to be here.
May 15 — My mom's birthday.
May 28 — Cari and I hit 10 years together.
So when people say "May is full of love and light" — yeah. It is. And it's also heavy as hell. Both things are true. It always has been for us. This year just turned the volume up on everything.
What Mental Health Awareness Actually Looks Like
Mental Health Awareness Month isn't just a hashtag. It's not a ribbon or a social media campaign. It's the veteran who had deep conversations with six people in crisis while he was in the middle of his own. It's the spouse who held everything together while watching someone she loved come back to life. It's the first responder who saw more death in three months than most people see in a lifetime, and finally found something that helped.
Real mental health awareness looks like this: being honest about where you are, even when it's not a good place. Especially then.
I've done a ton of work on myself. Years of it. Psychedelic-assisted therapy. Ketamine. Integration. Community. And right now it feels like I've taken 50 steps back. That's a brutal feeling to sit with.
But I'm aware of it now. I can name it. Speak it. Sit with it. And instead of beating myself up, there's this weird moment of grace — not a pass, not an excuse. Just "oh. That makes sense."
That's the work. That's always been the work.
What We Need More Than Awareness
Awareness is the beginning — not the destination.
What we actually need is safe and ethical facilitators trained to hold space the right way. Licensed ketamine clinics doing things properly, not chasing a trend. Integration coaches and peer supporters who stay with people through the process. Veteran mental health resources that don't require a decade-long wait. Community spaces where veterans and first responders can talk without judgment. And conversations that don't stop — in living rooms, on job sites, at the VA, at the kitchen table.
Psychedelic-assisted therapy changed my life. It didn't make me invincible. It gave me the tools to keep getting back up. And that's what we're building the infrastructure to share with others through Be the Bridge — Powered by Mental Joe Apparel, our registered 501(c)(3) nonprofit.
How Apparel Starts the Conversation
Mental health awareness apparel isn't about wearing a slogan. It's about creating a moment of permission — for someone else to say "me too."
When you wear a Mental Joe shirt, you're not just wearing a design. You're wearing a signal. To the veteran in the grocery store. To the first responder at your kid's school. To the colleague who hasn't been okay for months but doesn't know how to say it. You go first. And that matters more than most people realize.
Every shirt we sell funds Be the Bridge Foundation — $5 from every purchase goes directly to connecting people in crisis to vetted resources, ethical facilitators, licensed ketamine clinics, and integration support. Your purchase is tax-deductible through our registered 501(c)(3) status.
Before Anyone Checks On Me
I'm not going to do anything silly. I'm still grateful. Still fighting. Just going through it.
I don't write this for sympathy. I write it because I believe in being authentic about the full picture — the wins AND the dumpster fires. Because someone reading this needs to see that the person trying to help others navigate mental health and psychedelic healing is also in the middle of it. Not on the other side of it. Never pretending to be.
If this landed for you — share it with someone who needs to read it. That's how this grows.
And if YOU are going through it right now — reply to this post, reach out at info@mentaljoe.com, or visit mentaljoe.com. Chad reads every message personally.
Still here. Still building something that matters.
Perspective is everything. 🐸
— Chad McLean Founder, Mental Joe Apparel Veteran | Mental Health Advocate | Still in it
Be the Bridge — Powered by Mental Joe Apparel is a registered 501(c)(3) nonprofit connecting veterans, first responders, and families to mental health resources, ethical facilitators, and integration support.
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Tags: mental health awareness month, veteran mental health, psychedelic therapy, psychedelic-assisted therapy, ketamine therapy, PTSD treatment, first responder mental health, integration support, mental health apparel, Be the Bridge, Mental Joe, traumatic brain injury, TBI recovery, veteran suicide prevention, mental health advocacy, alternative healing, veteran owned business, 501c3 nonprofit