When the Wolf Needs to Rest
I am The Mental Wolf. You know me as a voice of strength, resilience, and the relentless pursuit of overcoming anxiety and depression. But today, I need to speak not from the mountaintop, but from the valley. Because even the wolf, no matter how strong, must sometimes stop and heal.
Recently, I have been walking through an exacerbation of PTSD and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Let me be clear—this is not simply “stress.” Stress is what you feel when you’re late for work or when bills pile up. PTSD and GAD are storms that can sweep in without warning, triggered by events that others may never even notice, and honestly, some will not care about. They can shake your world to its core and feel like you unraveled decades of progress. They don’t politely knock on the door. They crash through it, uninvited and unapologetic.
This latest flare has forced me to acknowledge something I’ve always preached but now must live fully: that it is not weakness to step back. I’ve had to lean on doctors. I’ve sought the counsel of therapists. I’ve had to take a break from work—not because I wanted to, but because my body and mind made it clear that healing had to come first, that as a RN, I need to be 100% present. That this choice doesn’t diminish me as The Mental Wolf. In fact, it affirms everything this name represents: strength isn’t about never falling; it’s about refusing to stay down.
Exacerbations like this strike out of the blue. They don’t ask permission. They don’t wait for a “convenient time.” And they remind us of a truth too often ignored in a society that glorifies nonstop productivity: mental illness is real, it is physical, it is medical, and it requires treatment, care, and compassion.
I know some might wonder, “But if The Mental Wolf is struggling, doesn’t that mean the wolf’s way doesn’t work?” No. It means the wolf’s way works precisely because I’m here telling you this. It works because I recognize the storm, I don’t hide from it, and I know the path back to recovery. Healing doesn’t happen by ignoring the wound. It happens by facing it, tending to it, and allowing time for the body and mind to knit themselves back together.
I will recover. I’ve walked through worse fires, and I’ve emerged each time stronger, wiser, and more unshakable. This is no different. Recovery doesn’t erase the scars, but it does prove that they do not define me—and they do not define you.
So, if you’re walking through your own exacerbation, know this: you are not weak for needing help. You are not less for taking a break. You are not broken because you lean on doctors, therapists, or medication. You are human. And you are still a wolf.
The Mental Wolf isn’t a symbol of perfection. It’s a symbol of resilience. Resilience doesn’t mean you never stumble—it means you get back up, again and again, until the forest clears and the howl returns.
And mine will.
Adam Scott
Published: September 15, 2025
