Why Mental Health Matters So Much for Introverts
After surviving cancer and developing PTSD, here’s what I’m doing to take care of my mental health as an introvert.
I’m going to be honest with you: I’ve really been struggling with my mental health.
For those of you who don’t know, I was diagnosed with stage three rectal cancer in Nov. 2024 at the age of 42. I went through eight brutal rounds of chemotherapy, a month and a half of radiation therapy, and three surgeries that removed part of my colon and left me with a permanent colostomy bag. I’ve been cancer-free since Sept. 2025.
At first, I was thrilled just to be alive. As a single mom to a five-year-old boy, every moment with him felt precious, like I had earned every snack, every snuggle, every “MOM!” the hard way.
Then, a few months after my active treatment ended, I started having nightmares and panic attacks. I could never relax. Nothing felt safe anymore. I had terrifying visions of awful things happening — school shootings, fatal car accidents, sudden losses I couldn’t stop.
Because my brain reasoned that if one extremely rare thing — early-onset, late-stage cancer — had already happened to me, then other rare tragedies could happen just as easily.
On top of that, I had survived twisted domestic abuse — that’s a story for another time — and then, in the middle of my cancer treatment, my dad, one of my biggest supporters, died suddenly.
Recently, I was diagnosed with PTSD, and everything made sense.
They say the time after cancer treatment ends is actually one of the hardest periods. Kate Middleton, the Princess of Wales, explained it perfectly when she said:
“You put on a sort of brave face, stoicism through treatment. Treatment is done, then it’s like, ‘I can crack on, get back to normal,’ but actually the phase afterwards is really, really difficult.”
That’s where I’ve been lately: trying to understand what happens after survival. And it made me wonder about the link between introversion and mental health.
I want to share what I’m doing for my mental health right now, in case it helps anyone else who’s struggling. Because I’ve come to believe that, as introverts, we have to be very intentional about taking care of our mental health.
What Science Says About Introverts and Mental Health
First, to be clear, introversion itself is not a mental illness and does not “cause” mental illness.
In the research, the strongest risk factor for mental illnesses like depression, anxiety, and PTSD is neuroticism. People who are high in neuroticism react more strongly to stress and see everyday situations as more threatening. They tend to experience a lot of negative emotions, like anxiety, fear, worry, self-doubt, and sadness.
But being an introvert can also affect your mental health. Research shows that introverts tend to report more depression and anxiety symptoms than extroverts.
Why? Maybe because introverts get fewer positive “mood boosts” throughout the day than extroverts. Maybe because we may have less social support. Maybe because we are more prone to rumination and isolation.
Whatever the cause, it’s a reminder that we introverts can’t treat our mental health as an afterthought.
The Small Things Helping Me Feel Safe Again
Here’s what I’m doing to take care of my mental health:
1. I’m taking sleep seriously.
Anxious thoughts make it hard for me to fall asleep. Nightmares wake me up and make it hard to drift off again. So my therapist gave me a simple rule: Don’t just lie there. If I can’t sleep, I get out of bed and do something boring in a dimly lit room.
My therapist suggested a craft, but I’m not really a craft person. So I got a kids’ “paint by sticker” book, like this one. I get up, sit at the kitchen table, and add a few stickers to the page until my body starts to feel sleepy again.
Then, once I’m back in bed, I play a little word game to keep my brain from wandering straight back to my worries. I pick a letter, like M, and name every word I can think of that starts with it: Minnesota, milk, mystery, moon, mailbox…
Another way I’m working on my sleep is by going to bed around the same time every night and not staying up past the point when I’m feeling sleepy, so I don’t get a “second wind.”
2. I’m making sure alone time doesn’t become isolation.
As an introvert, I love spending time alone. But when you are dealing with PTSD like I am, spending time alone can actually feel, well, unsafe.
“You’re alone in this crisis,” my brain tells me.
So I have been intentionally spending time with people who feel calming and emotionally safe, whether that means getting lunch together or just talking on the phone. I have zero tolerance for people who do not feel good to my nervous system.
Sometimes it’s not about actually socializing. It’s just about being out among other people to remind myself that I’m not alone. I’ll drive to my favorite coffee shop, which feels safe to me.
I remind myself that we were never meant to live in total isolation, even as introverts. Spending time with the right people helps regulate my nervous system.
3. I’m speaking up when something sends me spiraling.
For example, just yesterday, someone close to me said, “Your life seemed like it was going so well just a few years ago! Then all this bad stuff happened!”
I had to stop this person and tell them it didn’t help me to think like that. It doesn’t help me to focus on everything I’ve lost to cancer — and I lost a lot. I can only move forward with what I have from here.
4. I’m giving my brain fewer screens and more sunlight.
I stopped scrolling social media first thing in the morning. Now, I open my curtains, face the sun, and take five deep breaths to start my day — homework from my therapist.
And now that it’s nice outside, I’ve been going for walks and listening to instrumental music on my free evenings instead of watching yet another episode of a show.
5. I’m showing up for therapy every week.
We’re doing ACT, or Acceptance and Commitment Therapy. One exercise my therapist taught me is called “Leaves on the Stream.” You close your eyes, imagine a calm stream, and place each worry on a leaf as it floats away.
It sounds simple, but it helps when my brain gets caught in anxious thoughts and panic. Here’s a prompt you can use to try the exercise yourself.
I’m also choosing to drive over an hour to my therapist’s office to see her in person rather than doing therapy virtually. I’ve noticed that being physically in her presence helps regulate my nervous system better than talking to her through a screen.
6. I’m coming back to myself.
I’m cleaning and organizing my home. I’m learning to cook healthy foods instead of picking up takeout or making something out of a package. I’m exercising in some way every other day. Physically caring for my environment and my body has become a way to care for my mental health.
We introverts are not doomed to have poor mental health just because we’re introverts. But I do think we need to be more intentional about caring for it.
After spending over a year focused almost entirely on my physical health — on beating cancer — I’m realizing that my mental health matters just as much.
My wish for you, dear introvert, is that you will care for your mental health tenderly, too.
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