Lessons You Don’t Expect to Learn in a Hangar
When people hear I work in aircraft maintenance, they usually picture torque wrenches, rivets, engine oil, and a whole lot of paperwork. And sure, that’s a huge part of what I do. But the longer I’ve been in this field, the more I’ve realized how much the job has quietly shaped the way I understand myself — especially when it comes to mental health.
I didn’t set out to make any deep connections between fixing planes and emotional well-being. But over time, the parallels became hard to ignore. Cracks in a fuselage, weird vibrations mid-flight, slow leaks — those are all signals that something deeper is off. And it turns out, our minds and emotions send signals too. We just have to pay attention.
So here it is — five things working on aircraft has taught me about taking care of my mental health.
1. Cracks Don’t Mean Catastrophe — They Mean Attention Is Needed
One of the first things you learn in this job is how to inspect for cracks in panels, frames, or fan blades. Not all cracks are dangerous. Some are superficial, some are stress-related, and some need immediate action. But none of them should be ignored.
The same goes for mental health. A bad day, a sudden snap at someone you love, a sense of burnout — these things don’t mean you’re broken. They just mean something’s under strain and needs attention. Just like we map and measure a crack before deciding what to do, it helps to notice our emotional stress and respond with curiosity, not panic.
2. Preventive Maintenance Is Everything
Aircraft don’t stay airworthy just because we wait for something to break and then fix it. We do regular inspections, change filters before they’re clogged, and replace parts long before they fail. It’s called preventive maintenance, and it saves lives.
I’ve realized mental health needs the same kind of care. I can’t wait until I’m exhausted or shut down to take a break or check in with myself. Regular maintenance looks like getting enough sleep, setting boundaries, taking a walk, or just having someone to talk to. You don’t need to be in crisis to take care of your mind.
3. You Need the Right Tools — and Time
You don’t use a hammer on a turbine blade. You use the right tool, with precision, and you follow the proper steps. Rushing usually makes things worse. I’ve had to learn that lesson the hard way on the job — stripping bolts, redoing repairs, wasting hours because I didn’t slow down at the start.
Mental health is the same. You can’t just muscle through stress or anxiety with sheer willpower. You need the right tools — maybe therapy, maybe journaling, maybe mindfulness. And you need time. There’s no shortcut to healing, just like there’s no shortcut to a proper engine teardown. Respect the process. It’s worth it.
4. Even Experts Double-Check Their Work
No matter how many years you’ve been in the game, someone else signs off on your work. We double-check each other not because we don’t trust one another, but because we do — we trust that we’re all human. We trust that mistakes can happen, and the best way to prevent failure is to support each other.
In the same way, I’ve learned I need people in my life who can “double-check” me. Friends who notice when I’m off. Family who call me out when I’m too closed off. Therapists who ask the questions I’m avoiding. It’s not a weakness to need backup. It’s actually the smartest way to stay grounded.
5. The Goal Isn’t Perfection — It’s Safety and Strength
It’s tempting to chase perfection in this line of work. I used to get down on myself for missing small things or needing reminders. But I’ve learned that perfection isn’t the point — safety is. Reliability is. The ability to do the job well over time, with consistency and care, is what actually matters.
That’s a huge shift in how I treat myself. I don’t need to have it all figured out. I just need to be present, take care of the basics, and keep improving. Mental health isn’t about having no problems — it’s about having the tools, the awareness, and the support to deal with them when they show up.
Final Approach: Making Space for the Human Behind the Work
There’s a lot of pride in what I do. Keeping planes safe, getting people where they need to go, being part of something bigger than myself — that fuels me. But I’ve also learned that being good at my job doesn’t mean I have to ignore my own needs.
In fact, the better I take care of my mind and my body, the better mechanic I am. The sharper I am on the job. The steadier I am under pressure. Emotional resilience and technical precision are more connected than I ever imagined.
If you’re in a high-stakes job like mine — or even if you’re not — I hope this gives you permission to start thinking of your mental health like a piece of critical equipment. Not something optional. Not something shameful. Just something that needs regular care, smart tools, and the occasional overhaul.
Because in the end, whether it’s a cracked panel or a cracked sense of self, the solution starts with noticing — and then choosing to fix it, carefully and with heart.