Thunder

September 25, 2026

 “They say tomorrow’s never promised – honest.

They say that angels piranhas are among us…”

Let me set the scene:

Back in November 2023, my husband and I were in Tampa, Florida, and were able to attend the Heroes to Headliners Tour with Her, Imagine Dragons, and Chris Stapleton. The concert was at an outdoor fairgrounds amphitheater. The performances were fantastic, the night was magical, and we had a blast. Personally, I had recently started a new professional chapter, was optimistic, capable, and excited about what was ahead. I was strong. I was confident.

I was most excited to see Imagine Dragons that evening. Their set was exciting on its own—but Dan Reynolds stopping the concert to talk candidly about mental health was truly striking. Cold chills on a hot, humid, Florida night kind of striking. (Feel free to watch the actual speech from that night here.) I especially appreciated his message to young people: struggling mentally is nothing to be ashamed of. At the time, I heard his words primarily through the lens of empathy, and simply appreciated what he was saying for other people. I have always cared deeply about mental health, understood depression and anxiety intellectually and compassionately, and will forever believe people should be able to ask for help without shame. Too many people I love dearly have been dealing personally with mental health battles for years and years, and Dan's willingness to stop a massive concert and speak vulnerably impressed me. There’s something powerful about someone with that platform literally saying “success does not make you immune from struggling.” At this concert, his words were meaningful…at the next concert, they became personal.

I didn't know that less than a year later, I would hear him say many of those same things again—and this time, I wouldn't be thinking about everyone else. I would need to hear them for myself.

The following nine months challenged me in completely new ways. I’ve never been an overly emotional person, but I do carry an appreciation for honesty, direct feedback, strong (especially female) leadership, transparency, accountability, and respect. (Side note: these core values were actually identified through an amazing therapy program I had the luxury of participating in at Walter Reed Medical Center.) After a months-long fight for any, much less all, of these core values to be fulfilled, my workplace really started to take a toll on me. At first, I kept trying harder, thinking that if something didn't seem right, I was what needed to improve. I asked repeatedly for honest feedback because I genuinely wanted to succeed. When feedback wasn't clear or consistent, I worked harder to figure out what was expected, but unfortunately, it felt as though nothing I (or other coworkers) did could ever be entirely right. I wasn’t the only one who questioned their judgment, and wasn’t the only one who became exhausted from trying to interpret constantly changing expectations. I found myself advocating for the team while simultaneously struggling to speak up for myself. Hours-long meetings full of gaslighting and manipulation made me question things I previously would have trusted myself to recognize. The confident person from November 2023 transformed into someone who was constantly questioning herself. Thankfully, I started both therapy and Lexapro in May of 2024.

Now let’s pause for another set change: September 2024, Imagine Dragons in concert in Charlotte, NC. Seth and I are with some of our best friends on a sweltering evening, incredibly excited to watch Imagine Dragons perform again.

I was exhausted, emotionally depleted, and questioning myself. I was trying to decide how much longer I could keep pushing. I cared deeply about my work, the people around me, and the cause we served – which made walking away feel even harder. For me and my husband, the concert kicked off a two-week vacation to Europe. We were enjoying ourselves, singing, dancing, and drinking to the music.

Then Dan stops the show again, and talks about mental health. In Tampa, I heard him telling people they didn't need to be ashamed of struggling. In Charlotte, I heard him telling me. It’s a strange experience being in an arena with thousands of people, yet feeling like someone's words have somehow found you specifically. I needed his courage, and though he had no knowledge of what I was going through, what he said mattered.

“While music is everything to me, the reason I’m still alive is therapy…We all need help, we’re all struggling. What you see online is not a depiction of reality. We’re all hurt. May you join me in therapy. I love you. Stay alive. Your life is always worth living. That’s it. That’s what every single Imagine Dragons song is about. It’s all I’ve written about, it’s all I’ll continue to write about. It’s just a desire to love myself.”

Those words echo in my mind, and I know I’m not the only person who has taken them to heart. His speeches aren’t scripted, but make struggling feel permissible.

“Eyes Closed,” “Whatever It Takes,” and “No Time for Toxic People.”

These three songs specifically, surprisingly follow my mental processing pretty well. “Eyes Closed” invokes ideas surrounding surviving difficult things, knowing what you're capable of even when circumstances have made you question yourself, continuing forward despite feeling beaten down, and even reclaiming confidence. Though in hindsight I was clearly struggling mentally, my heart was still saying “I know who I am” even when I wasn’t thriving in that moment. Tomorrow truly is never promised, and both angels and piranhas are among us.

In my interpretation, "Whatever It Takes" is a little more nuanced…and almost evolutionary. Initially I heard the verses telling me to work harder, fix it, take responsibility, protect the team, find another solution, keep going, pushing, grinding. I’d internalized the lyrics and used the words as encouragement to do whatever it took to keep going. Spoiler alert: I eventually figured out “whatever it takes” (in song form or otherwise) doesn’t mean enduring more. Sometimes it means having the courage to leave.

And then there’s "No Time for Toxic People..." Can we be a little tongue in cheek with this? Though it’s true I had hit my limit with a specific person/”leader,” the source of the toxicity is ultimately pretty irrelevant. This person faces their own demons too, we’re all capable of toxicity and hostility, and every single one of us can keep working to better ourselves in myriad ways. The chorus of the song starts with “take a look outside, it’s a beautiful day.” It’s really about reframing your mindset, protecting your peace, and realizing boundaries aren't selfish… they’re healthy. Being exhausted, beaten down, and anxious, I wasn’t showing up as my best self for anything – not as a wife, fur-mom, daughter, sister, friend, advisor, or coworker. How could you possibly expect to help others when you aren’t able to help yourself? I now understand I don't have to keep proving myself to people committed to misunderstanding me. I choose where my energy goes. And every piece of me recognizes that leaving a toxic environment isn't the same thing as failing. I have no time for toxic people, nor do they deserve my energy. I wrote my resignation letter on the flight to England the day after the concert.

Put simply, leaving was NOT a dramatic victory. I didn't suddenly stop caring or believing in the mission of the organization or my work –  in fact, I gave six weeks’ notice. I also didn't walk away because things became difficult…I finally recognized what staying was doing to me and those around me, and that there are major differences between perseverance/self-destruction, accepting constructive criticism/being conditioned to doubt myself, and being accountable/believing all shortcomings or failures rest squarely on my shoulders. Leadership isn’t only knowing when to stand and fight – sometimes it’s knowing when staying is costing you more than leaving. Imagine Dragons’ music, lyrics, and words became part of the decision rather than simply something that comforted me. I began trusting myself again, and hearing my own internal voice speak up loudly again.

I was never required to pretend everything was okay – I didn’t need to anymore. Mental health mattered more than professional appearances. Asking for help wasn't weakness. My worth and abilities weren't determined by one person's assessment of me. I am allowed to protect myself, was allowed to leave, and could (and did!) rebuild.

“Fill my cup with endless ambition, and paint this town with my very own vision.”

Maybe most people in an arena don't need the speeches Dan is known for giving. Some might appreciate it. Some might clap and move on. Some might remember it years later. But somewhere in that crowd is someone who desperately needs to hear it. It might sound silly to place such an emphasis on lyrics, music, and a concert series, but they changed (and maybe saved) my life.

I’m grateful he keeps giving the speech. Sometimes the song doesn't change. The person listening does.