Long before anyone used the phrase “mental health”, the sources were already describing what it does to a person. Not as a weakness to be hidden. As something that happened to the best of them.
The Year of Sorrow
Around the tenth year of prophethood, two people the Prophet ﷺ depended on died. Khadijah (ra), his wife of twenty-five years, the first person to believe him. And Abu Talib, the uncle whose protection was the only reason Quraysh had not moved against him openly. The three-year boycott in the valley had ended shortly before, so he came out of one ordeal straight into another.
Sirah writers call that year ‘am al-huzn, the Year of Sorrow.
That name is not from a hadith. It is what later historians called it, and it stuck, because nobody was pretending the year had been anything else.
The year after it he was offered something. Grief was answered with kindness, not a lecture, and the next stretch of his life began.
وَوَجَدَكَ ضَالًّا فَهَدَىٰ، وَوَجَدَكَ عَائِلًا فَأَغْنَىٰ
“He found you lost, and guided you. He found you in need, and gave you enough.”
إِنَّ الْعَيْنَ تَدْمَعُ وَالْقَلْبَ يَحْزَنُ وَلَا نَقُولُ إِلَّا مَا يَرْضَى رَبُّنَا وَإِنَّا بِفِرَاقِكَ يَا إِبْرَاهِيمُ لَمَحْزُونُونَ
“The eye sheds tears and the heart grieves, and we say only what pleases our Lord. Ibrahim, we are grieving over losing you.”
He said that holding his own son as he died. Crying in front of people, and saying out loud that it hurt. If that is compatible with being the Messenger of Allah ﷺ, your low weeks are not a verdict on your faith.