Mental health refers to one’s emotional, psychological and social well- being. It affects how one thinks, feels and behaves and it also determines how one can handle stress, relate to others and make decisions and choices. Thus, good mental health enables you to deal with life’s challenges, realise your potential and abilities, learn and work well, contribute to your community as well as form and maintain healthy relationships. Mental health is an important part of one’s well-being, yet it is one of the most misunderstood and stigmatized aspects of health. It is therefore vital to explore what mental health issues are, why they matter and how societies can better address them.

According to WHO more than one billion people globally live with a mental health condition, making it one of the leading causes of disability worldwide. In Zimbabwe it is a common thing to find mentally challenged people roaming the streets. It is worrisome to note that many more people succumb to stress and depression due to social and economic reasons. Experts describe mental health as a public health emergency, with rising rates of depression, anxiety and stress- related disorders found across all age groups.

Common mental health issues comprise depression, that is persistent sadness, loss of interest, fatigue and lack of sleep that affect one’s daily life. Anxiety disorders emanating from excessive worry, panic attacks and other physical symptoms like rapid mood changes and violence depict mental health challenges. Some people struggle with mental health as a result of drug abuse and substance use. I have witnessed disheartening incidences of people struggling with mental health issues. At my workplace some student teachers have to postpone their studies in order to seek medication as a result of substance use. Even when they return to resume their studies, you can still see that they would be vulnerable and struggling. At one point we had a female student who was raped while on work integrated learning. Although the culprit was arrested and the girl received counseling and medical treatment, the traumatizing incident left an undetectable mark on her well-being.

There is also the sad case of a colleague’s son who committed suicide after completing his Advanced Level. Unknown to his parents, he had been struggling with drug and substance abuse. The heart wrecking incident of a fellow congregant who returned home from church to find his son who had been struggling with drug addiction), having set fire to the entire homestead, struck and murdered his pregnant wife with a matchet and then burnt the body. The mother had to flee for dear life together with her three grandchildren (children of the man who had killed his wife). Mental health issues are not merely an individual problem, they also affect families and the society at large.

They say prevention is better than cure. Healthy lifestyle approaches are necessary. It is therefore imperative to exercise self-care strategies such as mindfulness and meditation. This helps to reduce stress and increase self-awareness. Exercising boosts mood and it is essential for one to have adequate sleeping time. One also needs to have healthy eating habits and avoid loneliness by building and maintaining healthy relationships and community ties.

Early intervention is important. There is need to be one’s brother’s keeper. Recognizing symptoms of health challenges and seeking professional help early is important. Expanding affordable therapy, counseling and community-based support is very important. It is also important to reduce stigma through open conversations in order to normalize mental health struggles. I remember one of our students who had just returned from receiving therapy for drug addiction, coming to my office with a notebook saying, “Mam, I want to learn to write books like you do. Here is what I got from the library.” He read to me what appeared to be lacking coherence but I praised him so as to boost his confidence and then gave him the advice he needed. He left a contended young man and I felt that I had assisted him well without showing any stigmatization.

Mental health issues are therefore not just personal struggles, they are societal challenges that require collective action. By providing the awareness, accessibility and compassion, communities can foster resilience and ensure that mental health is treated with the same urgency and respect as physical health. Mental health is a prerequisite for everyone.

By Perpetua Gonese

Social Handles

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POEM:

Arise and claim your throne

You, a queen that has fallen

The one with the buried kingdom and forgotten the throne

You, who surrendered her strength to the struggle

The pain cut off your wings

You could not fly

You stayed on the ground

Let go of the passion you possessed

Buried the dreams and wishes.

Arise and chase dreams

You, the dreamer who gave in

To the pressure of planet earth

Spiraling you to a life of no hope

The heat convinced you that you didn’t belong

That you were nothing but basic

So you curved in

Just to fit in.

Arise and love again

You, whose heart has been shattered

Mishandled by those you gave yourself to

The one’s who could not love your heart

The soul you poured out

Into a bottomless cup

So you took back your care

Stone cold

You locked away your heart.

POEM By : Nonsikelelo Moyo

Social media: Facebook

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I manifested all the great things I yearned for before this year began. The peace, the love, the abundance, the courage, the aura….. Literally anything you may think of when you picture in your mind when it comes to the wishes of the lady in her late 20s. Guess what?. . . Instead of turning the tables, they turned me. The late-night cries exceeded, and sometimes I failed to get some sleep. Appearing joyful while my heart bled within felt like unwavering hypocrisy. Thinking about the beautiful life I craved in comparison to the nightmare I struggle in, broke my hope into tiny pieces that are difficult to fix.

Some days felt so heavy, and moments lasted longer than they should have. I was completely shattered,left in deep thought, like… “Where did I do wrong?!, Am I really a good person?, Why does almost everyone seem to be so disappointing?” I fumbled. As people celebrated the new year season, I was busy fixing and picking up the leftovers from the previous one.

The emotional roller-coaster continued until one day I received shocking news that even my closest friend could not handle with a positive attitude. Some of them cried out of pity, while others were caught in the moment of silence.

I went numb, completely not knowing how to feel at the moment. The series of storms left me overwhelmed, with no strength to carry another burden. As I was stuck, I looked around to see everyone’s reaction, and, in surprise, I was the only one calm and unbothered at the moment. Suddenly, I gained insight into one of the greatest lessons of my life, one I had always heard but had never experienced firsthand, to make it real. That lesson was “We are who we are because of other people’s eyes. Our beliefs and attitudes are shaped by how other people perceive us, not by what we ought to be good for ourselves. The way we dress, behave, communicate, love, feel and express ourselves relies mostly to the expectations of other people and not our own preference”

For the first time, I felt free from other people’s expectations. Being hurt and calm left them no room to judge me for how I feel or how I react. Just because they could also feel the pain, it did not give them the power to weigh me down. Such an emotional regulation moment was everything I had hoped for, and I even remembered all the manifestations I had made before.

I speak with courage and confidence to whoever is reading this by letting you know that “Our brains are wired with extraordinary power. The key to using that power fully lies in understanding that the brain cannot distinguish between reality and imagination — it responds to whatever it is fed.” Always imagine the best from every scenario, expect good news, embrace every moment with gratitude, and see how tables turn around without moving your chair. It is true that you cannot think your way out of a certain feeling, because even heaven cries. You can feel the way you want by changing your thinking, since happiness is a state of mind.

I hope you found this insightful. I wish you all the best in your journey of discovery.

Written by: Dativa Mugashe

Social media:

Instagram: real_datty

Instagram

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Poem By : Nonny Vee

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The Morning After

One morning,
she’ll find herself
scrubbing her body too hard.
trying to peel off
the fingerprints he left behind.
not just on her skin
but in the corners of her silence.

The water will burn,
but not as much as the memory.
She’ll cry without sound,
because screaming
never helped her then either.
She said no
but the room swallowed her voice.
he heard power, not pain.
took what was never his
and left her shattered
in a world that still asks
“what were you wearing?

They will call her survivor,
but she is still bleeding in places
nobody can see.
and yet… she rises,
not because she’s healed,
but because she has no choice.

Poem By: Aisosa Joseph aka AJ Pearl

Instagram: sheisajpearl

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My name doesn’t matter. What matters is what happened, because it happens to many of us. I grew up in a small village, thinking I’d marry young, have kids, and farm the land like my mother and her mother before her. It was the only life I knew then.

Then came the drought. The crops withered. The animals died. My family struggled. My father, desperate, decided I should marry a man from the city. He was older, had a good job, and could provide. I didn’t want to, but I knew it was for the good of my family. It felt like a heavy stone in my stomach.

City life was overwhelming. So many people, so much noise, so much I didn’t understand. My husband was kind enough, but we just didn’t connect. He worked long hours, and I stayed home, cleaning and cooking. I felt lost and useless. I missed my family, the familiar smells of the farm, the comforting rhythm of village life.

One day, I stumbled upon a small tailoring shop near the market. The owner, a woman named Fatima, was teaching young girls how to sew. I watched them, fascinated. I remembered my grandmother teaching me to mend clothes back in the village. An idea sparked in my mind.

I asked Fatima if I could learn. She smiled and said, ‘Of course, my dear. There’s always room for one more.’ It wasn’t easy. My fingers were clumsy at first. I made mistakes. But Fatima was patient, and the girls were encouraging. Slowly, I started to learn. I learned to cut fabric, to sew straight lines, to create beautiful patterns.

Sewing gave me something to focus on, something to be proud of. I started making clothes for my neighbors, then for people in the market. My small earnings helped my family back in the village. I felt useful again, like I was contributing. It wasn’t the life I imagined, but it was my life, and I was building it with my own hands.

My husband saw how happy I was. He started bringing me fabric scraps from his work. He even helped me set up a small sewing corner in our house. We started talking more, sharing our days. He began to appreciate my effort and skill.

It wasn’t a fairy tale ending, but it was real. I wasn’t the farmer I thought I’d be, but I was a tailor, a provider, a woman who found her own path when life took an unexpected turn. And that, I realized, was enough. Sometimes, it’s about finding the strength to embrace the changes that  life throws at you and creating something new from the pieces.

Life rarely goes as planned. It’s okay to find your own way, even if it’s different from what you expected. Don’t be afraid to try new things and discover hidden talents. Support other women, we are stronger together. And never underestimate the power and authority that God instilled in you.

The post From the Village to the City – An Arranged Marriage. appeared first on Sheevolves.world.

Have you ever felt alone in a crowd — with your family, friends, or even your partner?

If so, you’re not alone. That was me too. I often felt lonely, and no matter what I did, nothing seemed to cure my unique case of loneliness. I tried surrounding myself with friends, thinking their presence would fill the emptiness inside, but it never did. It felt as though no one truly understood me — and that hurt.

In my desperation, I began pushing away good friends, believing they weren’t meant for me since they couldn’t fill the void within. I even ruined some of their romantic relationships because I wanted all their time and attention focused on me. Being a girl who rarely socialized with other women, my guy friends suffered the most, and slowly, their girlfriends left one by one. Looking back, I feel guilty for how selfish I was.

So I decided to leave my friends alone and pursue a romantic relationship instead. Honestly, that wasn’t a good idea. Deep down, I knew I wasn’t ready. Relationships seemed tiring to me — I get bored of people easily, and truthfully, I wasn’t ready to carry anyone else’s baggage when mine was already heavy enough.

Still, one day, I chose a boyfriend from among the guys who were always trying to woo me. Being the beautiful and smart woman I am, I always had admirers —but none of them truly interested me. That day, I played a silly game: I flipped a coin to decide. And just like that, I then chose him. He was surprised that I, the headstrong girl he admired, agreed to date him so quickly — but he didn’t know the reason behind it.

The relationship lasted only a few months. He treated me with kindness and love, and to be honest, I can’t blame him for anything. He tried his best to love me in his own way. Yet somehow, it was never enough. The emptiness remained. The harder I tried to fill it, the emptier I felt.

I became a terrible girlfriend — and to this day, I feel embarrassed when I remember how I treated Cedrick, my boyfriend at the time. He deserved the best, but all I gave him was confusion and pain. Still, he loved me. But deep down, I knew it wasn’t working. So I decided to set him free because I was becoming toxic to a genuinely good man.

After that, I started reading books, listening to podcasts, and searching for ways to find happiness — to stop feeling so alone. That loneliness had stolen my freedom, my joy, and my peace. One day, I came across a book that said: “You are the love you seek. Everything you search for in others already exists within you.”

Those words hit me deeply. Out of desperation, I decided to try what it said — to simply sit with myself. Since then, I have tried to occupy my mind with something: endless scrolling on social media, talking to people I shouldn’t even have associated with, pleasing others just to be loved. I had been running from myself because I was afraid of what I might find. But since nothing else worked, I decided to face myself.

The first time I sat in silence, it was unbearable. Within seconds, I reached for my phone — I failed. The second time, I lasted two seconds longer. Slowly, day by day, I tried again. Some days I failed, other days I succeeded. But through those moments of sitting in silence, I began to hear my own voice — the one within.

That inner voice told me something beautiful: “You are enough. You are beautiful.” And I laughed, wondering why no one had ever told me that before.

In those quiet moments, I discovered my worth. I realized how intelligent I was, how capable, how talented. I learned that I could crochet, braid hair, and even just sit still without running from myself. I discovered hobbies that brought me joy. I began taking peaceful morning walks, feeling the fresh air brush against my lips — and in those moments, I felt alive.

Through solitude, I found happiness. I began to crave those moments alone — with no music, no podcasts, no noise, just me and my thoughts. The amount of creativity and peace that flowed through me was unimaginable. I came up with business ideas, reflected on my life, and saw how much I had grown.

Silence became my friend — my safe place, my peace, my home. And if you ever struggle to find yourself or feel lonely, I encourage you to try silence too. You’ll realize that sometimes, all you truly need is you — sitting quietly in your own little corner, doing what makes your soul feel
alive.

Story by: Merci Mpundu

The post In Solitude, I Found Myself~ By Merci Mpundu appeared first on Sheevolves.world.

I’m not a joke, I’m human too,
With feelings that are real and true,
I care and love, I feel and see,
And my emotions are a part of me.

Don’t reduce me to a jest or play,
I’m a person with feelings every day,
I have a heart that beats and loves,
And words that hurt can leave their doves.

It’s okay if you think like that,
But know that my feelings are where I am at,
I’m still a person, with hopes and fears,
And kindness can calm my tears.

I breathe and live, I laugh and cry,
I have a soul that’s sensitive and high,
I feel the pain, I feel the joy,
And my emotions are a part of my employ.

Don’t dismiss me, don’t make me small,
I’m a human being, with feelings that enthrall,
I have a voice, I have a heart,
And words of kindness can make us never part.
So let’s be kind, let’s be real,

Let’s treat each other with love and feel,
For we’re all humans, with hearts that ache,
And words of kindness can make us awake.

Let’s walk this path, with empathy and care,
Let’s lift each other, with love and share,
For we’re all in this, together as one,
And kindness can make our journey just begun.

It’s okay if you think like that,
But know that my feelings are where I am at,
I’m still a person, with hopes and dreams,
And kindness can make my heart beam.

By: Grace Banda

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My dearest Bophelo,

Born on women’s day You arrived on this earth on a day that celebrates the strength, resilience, and beauty of women. I’m so grateful to be your mom, and I’m honored to watch you grow and thrive.

Bophelo, you are life itself to me. You bring joy, love, and purpose to my world. As you grow and discover this world, I promise to be here for you, to support you, to guide you, and to love you unconditionally.

You are a precious gift, and I’m so proud to be your mom. I promise to do my best to raise you to be a strong, confident, and compassionate woman, who makes a positive impact in the world.

I loved the name Bophelo, which means life, because it reminds me of the gift of life that you are. You are my life, my everything.

As you grow, I’ll tell you stories about the women who came before us, who fought for our rights, who paved the way for us to live our lives with dignity and purpose. I’ll teach you about the power of women, about sisterhood, and about the importance of standing up for what is right.

But most of all, Bophelo, I’ll love you with all my heart, and I’ll be here to support you every step of the way.

My little one. I love you more than words can say.

With all my love,
Mom Sophie wa magents

The post A letter to my 3months old beautiful baby girl,BOPHELO~ By Sophie Ntsubulane appeared first on Sheevolves.world.

The 20 y/o girl I used to be.

If I could find you now, where would you be? In the sterile, chilled air of the oncology ward, listening to the steady drip-drip-drip of the poison that is also your salvation? Or are you in a university library, your head swimming with formulas and theories, a beanie pulled low over the hair that is no longer there, trying to convince the world and yourself that you are just like any other student?

I see you. I see you with a clarity that time has carved into my bones. I am writing to you from a decade in your future. Ten years. You, who was told to get your affairs in order, who was handed a hospice referral like a life sentence. You would not believe that we are still here.

But first, I need to tell you that I miss you. I know how strange that sounds. You are right here, in my memories, in the very blood that still courses through my veins. But I miss your specific kind of fire. I miss the way you set your jaw when the doctor said the word “cancer.” I miss the sheer, terrifying ambition that made you get out of a hospital bed, dizzy from chemo, and walk onto campus. You saw that degree as a golden ticket, the only way out of the poverty that haunted our childhood. It was more than a degree… It was a promise to ourselves, our family, a shield, a future. And when the diagnosis came, it felt like that promise was being ripped from your hands. You couldn’t accept that. So you entered a tug-of-war with death itself, with a blurry, uncertain future as the prize.

You were so beautiful in your defiance. It wasn’t a loud, dramatic beauty. It was a quiet, stubborn one. The beauty of showing up. The beauty of your stubborn faith.

Do you remember the physical cost? The weight loss that made your clothes hang like ghosts on your frame? The neuropathy in your fingers and feet that made typing an essay feel like climbing a mountain? The physical disability that left you mourning for what was once there? The exhaustion that was more than just tiredness… it was a lead blanket on your soul, a gravity seven times stronger than anyone else’s. You didn’t care. Or rather, you cared, but you refused to let it be the boss of you. Day after day, with the veins filled with the red devil’s poison, you hopped to class with your crutches – every step you took screamed I am here for a purpose – and a purpose you fulfilled.

All you wanted was to live your life as if you weren’t dying. As if you weren’t, at nineteen, being handed pamphlets on palliative care. You went to class with a port attached to your body. You studied between bursts of nausea and chest pains. You laughed with friends, your laughter sometimes a thin veil over a bedrock of fear. You were a masterpiece of courage, and you didn’t even know it. You thought you were just surviving – after all, you had no choice (so you thought).

I need you to know something. That fight you were in? You won.

You got your degree. You finished it in record time, a fact that still astounds me to date. You defied every grim statistic, every whispered prognosis. You lived to see the other side of that “blurry future.” The woman I am today is built on the foundation you laid with your pain, your courage, your sheer, bloody-minded will.

We have come so far. We have achieved so much. We have loved, we have traveled, we have built a life. There are so many blessings, moments of joy so sharp and sweet they still make you weep. I list them in my head sometimes, like counting jewels… Waking up without pain. A cup of coffee that tastes good. The sun on my face. The degree, framed on the wall. These are the victories you made possible.

And yet. This is the hard part to write. This is the part where I have to be as honest with you as you were with yourself in that hospital room. I am tired, my love. I am so, so exhausted.

The battle didn’t end when the scans came back clear. It just changed shape and location. Now, it’s a different kind of war. It’s the war of aftermath. The war of “what now?” The war of chronic pain that has overstayed its welcome, of hormones that rage like a storm inside me, medications with side effects that feel like a new disease. It’s the endless parade of hospital visits… not for crisis, but for maintenance. For monitoring. It’s the isolation that comes from living in a body that has been to war while your peers’ bodies have been on vacation.

Some days, the lead blanket of exhaustion you wore temporarily has become my permanent state. I tell myself, “Think positively… You’re alive…” But my body doesn’t listen. The pain doesn’t listen. The negative energy is a bubble I can’t pop, and it’s not easy to escape. Some mornings, the greatest achievement is the Herculean effort it takes to move my limbs from the bed to the floor.

I look for you in these moments. I search for that nineteen-year-old who fought death for a chance to sit in a lecture hall. I long for her strength. I feel like I’ve lost her, that the years have sanded her down into this weary, overwhelmed woman. I never thought, after all this time, that the battle would feel so familiar – like moving in circles.

But here is what I am learning, from my vantage point ten years ahead of you. Your strength didn’t vanish. It transformed. Your fight then was external, against a visible enemy… a malignant tumor, a disease. It was a sprint of sheer will. My fight now is more internal. It’s a marathon against the echoes of that war. It’s the management of the fallout. And my dear, a marathon requires a different kind of endurance. It requires pacing. It requires knowing that it’s okay to walk sometimes. To know that it is okay to take one step at a time. To rest when need be.

You fought to build a life. Now, I am learning how to live in it – as I am now, now as what I thought I would be now.

When you chose education over surrender, you weren’t just being stubborn. You were making a statement: “My life is mine.” You were claiming your identity back from the disease. I need to do that again, now. I need to find small, daily ways to claim my life from the pain, the fatigue, the overwhelm, the treatments, the recurrences… all of it.

Maybe it’s not about finding your old strength, but about recognizing that the strength I have now is just as valid. The strength to rest without guilt. The strength to say, “I am not okay today,” and to mean it. The strength to mourn… for the beautiful, ambitious 19-year-old you were, and for the woman we thought we would become. It’s okay to mourn them. It’s necessary. They are beautiful ghosts, and we must honor them before we can fully embrace the woman we have become.

You were a warrior in the bright light of crisis. I am a gardener in the quiet, slow dawn of survival, tending to the scarred but fertile soil you left me.

So, thank you. Thank you for fighting so hard for this future, even when it felt hopeless. Thank you for every class you attended, every page you turned, every tear you swallowed. You did it. You gave us a life. I won’t promise you that it will all be easy from here. That would be a lie. But I can promise you this… it is definitely worth it. The joy is worth the pain. The peace is worth the struggle. And the love is worth the loss.

You taught me that the will to live is not just about the heart beating in your chest, but about the soul firing in your eyes. You taught me that life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass… it’s about learning to dance in the rain, even if the dance is slow and painful.

When I can’t get out of bed, I will try to remember the feel of a textbook in your hands. When the pain is overwhelming, I will remember the fire in your belly that burned hotter than any fever. I will draw a line from your courage then to my perseverance now.

We are the same person, you and I. The same relentless and stubborn spirit in different seasons of the same storm. You are not a stranger I’ve lost. You are the seed from which I grew. I am still here because you refused to give up. And I, in your honor, will refuse to give in.

With all my love, and all the strength you lent me,
Your Older Self

Story written by: Mutshidzi

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