Two Mental Health Tools That Are Actually Working for Me Right Now

“I wasn’t looking for tools — I was just trying to survive.”

As a coach, admitting that still feels uncomfortable. I’m meant to walk the walk — to model balance and awareness. But over the last few years, life asked more of me than I had to give.

I slipped out of my own rhythm and into survival mode — anxious, self-critical, catastrophising, seeking validation, scrolling instead of resting, convinced that pausing meant failing.

When the pressure finally eased — not because life got easier, but because I couldn’t keep pushing — I knew the first thing I needed to reclaim was my mental health. Not through optimisation, but through gentleness.

Two simple practices have helped me more than anything else.

Tool #1 — “Dear Love, What Would You Have Me Know Today?”

I came across this line twice in one week — once through a Lindsey Hyson (Clinical Psychologist at Hanya House), and again on Elizabeth Gilbert’s Letters from LoveSubstack. It felt like an invitation.

So one morning, I opened my journal, wrote Dear Love, what would you have me know today? — and waited.

At first, it felt awkward. My inner critic rolled its eyes. But something shifted when I stopped writing about myself and started writing to myself. My tone softened. My breath slowed. A wiser, calmer voice began to speak — one that didn’t demand or diagnose, but understood.

How to Begin

You don’t need a ritual. Just a notebook, a few quiet minutes, and the willingness to sound awkward.

Write: Dear Love, what would you have me know today?

Then pause. Wait for whatever rises — a sentence, an image, a whisper of truth. Keep writing until your body feels even slightly softer. There’s no wrong way to do it. The only rule is kindness.

If it feels awkward…

It will at first. It feels unnatural to speak to yourself with tenderness — especially when you’ve been surviving on self-criticism for years. But that discomfort is actually the sound of old wiring loosening. It’s what happens when we start learning a new emotional language — one of compassion instead of control.

An excerpt from one of my own “Dear Love” letters:

You might feel guilty about taking your foot off the gas for a little while, in fact I know you do… but it’s okay to rest now. It’s okay to breathe out. It’s okay to write. It’s okay to go slow. It’s okay to be quiet.

It’s okay to spend some time with yourself.

The rollercoaster you’ve been on has only just dropped its speed. You are allowed to feel disorientated. You are allowed to carry on holding on tight with big eyes and white knuckles. Even though the wheels of this ride have slowed right down, I don’t expect you to relax and smile overnight.

So hang on tight a little bit longer. In fact, hang on tight for as long as you like.

And when you are ready to start releasing your grip, I’m right here. I’ve got you – I always have and I always will.

But I’d ask one thing of you, Ryan, and that’s this: Moving forward, don’t go quiet. Talk to me more.

Tool #2 — Reframing Anxieties with ChatGPT

I once read that one of the healthiest things a new business owner can do is to write down every fear that’s swirling in their head.

So, one Monday morning, I opened ChatGPT, listed every fear I could think of, and asked it to help me reframe them.

They looked something like this:

• I’m falling behind.
• Everyone else seems to be coping better.
• I’ve lost momentum and don’t know how to start again.
• I’m afraid I’ll disappoint the people who believe in me.

Then, one by one, we turned them around:

• Even slow progress is still movement.
• Comparison drains the energy you need for your own path.
• Pausing isn’t failure; it’s integration.
• The people who believe in you believe in your humanity, not your perfection.

I usually tweak the phrasing until it lands as truth in my body. The exercise takes ten minutes but shifts my entire day. It moves me from rumination to reflection — from everything’s falling apart to maybe I’m okay.

ChatGPT doesn’t replace therapy or coaching. It’s not there to fix me — it’s a mirror, reflecting the steadier voice I already carry inside.

What I Think Is Happening Beneath the Surface

As a coach who’s done a little bit of research, here’s how I make sense of why these practices work:

• “Dear Love” journaling — activates the parasympathetic nervous system through self-compassion and reframing, lowering cortisol and shifting brain activity from the amygdala (fear) to the prefrontal cortex (perspective and reasoning).In other words: it helps calm the body before it calms the mind.
• Reframing anxiety with ChatGPT — externalises rumination and introduces cognitive reappraisal, a proven technique in cognitive-behavioural therapy (CBT) that reduces anxiety by generating alternative interpretations of fears.In other words: it helps you step outside the loop and see differently.

Both tools are simple, but their impact runs deep. They return two things we often lose when we’re stressed or afraid: perspective and self-kindness.

A Gentle Closing

Neither of these practices is dramatic. They won’t cure anxiety or make hard seasons disappear. But they have a quiet way of bringing me back to myself.

“Dear Love” helps me listen to the voice beneath the noise.

Reframing helps me see the same old fears from a new angle.

And together, they remind me that healing doesn’t start with mastery — it starts the moment we decide to meet ourselves with care.

These tools haven’t replaced the people who hold space for me — if anything, they’ve made those connections deeper. They’ve helped me show up to conversations with my coach, my friends, and my family with more perspective and honesty. The practices give language to what’s stirring beneath the surface, so that when I do reach out, I’m clearer, calmer, and more open.

If you need a place to begin, maybe start here.

Write: Dear Love, what would you have me know today?

Or list your fears and ask: What might be true on the other side of this?

You might just find what I did — that Love and perspective were never that far away.