SEED

The peaceful places in our heads we yearn to exist in are where we find the seeds of our becoming.

WEATHER TALK

I wish we could talk about our hearts like we talk about
the weather, because whether or not we are okay is more
important than the chance of rain.

The condition of our brains is more important than the
amount of snow, more important than the direction
the wind blows.

Imagine, for a minute, a severe-weather warning system
for the storms in our heads. It tells us when clouds are
forming above each other, allowing us to be there at the first
flash of lightning and crack of thunder.


APPOINTMENTS

There is no shame in seeing a therapist to empty the contents
of your brain to analyze the pieces more closely.

Keep the appointments.

Keep pursuing the sanity you deserve.


THE VOICES IN OUR HEADS

I see you whisper to yourself.

I watch you softly move your mouth when no one else is
around as if you are singing a psalm.

You walk the same road every single day to the same bench
where you pass the time.

Some days when I see you walking
and hear you loudly talking,
I'd like to believe that you are scolding the demons that
haunt your delicate mind.

Other days I feel a peace resonate from your bones.

I know there are wars waging in your head,
but your outer self maintains a sense of calm.

Don't we all talk to ourselves?

Yet, we choose to keep it inside.

We all have those wars,
just some of us deal with them differently.

What matters most is that we all keep breathing,
for our breath is the outcome of our will to keep living.

Isn't there victory here? I believe there is.


WAITING FOR THE STORM TO PASS, TOGETHER

If you want to curl up in a ball and lie on the kitchen floor,
I'll curl up next to you 'til you don't feel that way anymore.

Don't apologize for being sad.

You can't help what happens inside your own head.

If you want to spend the day just lying in bed, I'll lie next to
you 'til you're happy again.


FEEBLE ADVICE FROM WELL-INTENTIONED FRIENDS

You cannot run from what is haunting you
if what plagues you comes from within.

It hurts when they tell you to just relax,
because you know your brain doesn't work that way.

You wouldn't tell the tree to be like the flower,
or the flower to be like the tree.

So why do they think it's that easy?

— I apologize for the ones who have minimized your pain.


WHAT WE SEE BEFORE WE SLEEP

We find serenity in our rooms away from the noise of the
news and social events that give us anxiety.

We are able to get away from everything,
everything except ourselves.

I am reminded of this as I lie in bed at night,
haunted by the cracks in the ceiling as they slither like
serpents towards my head.


BROKEN GLASS

You knocked the vase off the counter just to watch
something so beautiful shatter into a thousand pieces.

You could relate, because it happened to you.


A POST-IT NOTE ON MY DESK

Your mental illness is not a burden.

Your anxiety is not an inconvenience.

Never forget, we're all in this together.


THE QUIET BEFORE THE THUNDER

There is a moment between the freeing feeling of easy
breathing and the overwhelming weight that settles on your
chest when the anxiety hits.

I call this "the calm before the storm,"
a reminder of what it'll feel like when the clouds clear.


THE BROKEN RECORD OF FRIENDS WHO DON'T UNDERSTAND

When we are hurting, don't let anyone tell us
we need to get over it.

They need to get over the idea that someone else's pain is an
inconvenience to them.

Telling someone to get over it is like telling the stars not to
shine, the moon not to come out at night, or the sun not to
share its warmth.

It's just not possible to flip a switch that does not exist.

We'll move on when we're ready, not when you are tired of
listening to our struggles.


REVITALIZE

When we are broken, we don't just tear ourselves down
completely and start over. We leave the beautiful pieces
as the foundation and revitalize around them.
The structure of who we are remains. We just mend the
holes and reinforce the walls. We add paint and give
ourselves a new purpose. We don't erase our history,
rather, we use it to learn and grow.


RAIN PUDDLE

The distorted reflection of my face in the rain puddle I just
stepped in is a reminder of what I see when I look in the
mirror those mornings I don't quite feel myself.

I must remember,
the ripple will always dissipate into clarity.


BREATH

Take a moment to realize that your breath is the very
difference between life and death.

So inhale, exhale, and be in awe of how you save yourself
every time you breathe in.


BAREFOOT AND CAREFREE

The current pulls us in any direction it pleases.

We grow scared as the waves approach ferociously.

But as they find their way to the shore, they peacefully wash
the feet of those who walk barefoot on the beach.

It's as if they understand the fragility of our souls.

There is hope to be found here.


MY BROKEN PARTS

I was a sidewalk full of broken cement, overgrown with
weeds, and dimly lit at night.

You were the soul brave enough to travel my brokenness.


GOOD MORNING

Sometimes, the bravest thing you'll do in a day is get out of
bed, and that is still worth rejoicing over.


A DAY IN MY HEAD IS A DAY IN CHAOS

I tried to make a list of every moment I had it all together,
but the page was just as empty as the free time I don't have
because my planner is full of monotonous activities I will
probably never get to.

Yet, it is okay to be this beautiful mess that I am.


THE DAYS WE FEEL MOST ALONE

Every breath that spills from your lungs is a gift to yourself
and the ones that you love.

You add value to this world.

My plea to you: never give up.

When you are drowning in pain, struggling to stay afloat,
there are hands extended towards you from people who love
you more than you know.

Never stop reaching.

You'll either pull yourself up, or get pulled up.

Either is triumph.


EVERY BREATH IS A VICTORY

Even when the hurt keeps you in bed, remember your breath
and the victory in the rise and fall of your chest.


FREEDOM

There is an ocean in my chest. My lungs rise and fall, as
waves crash around my heart. And guess what: I never
learned how to swim.

You might see me as a nearly invisible passerby, the person
who sits quietly at your favorite coffee shop and keeps to
himself.

Most mistake my quiet demeanor, always-nice-to-others
outer shell, for someone who has it together.

You might see some sense of peace, but I am in danger of
drowning.

At an early age, I learned to doggy paddle to stay afloat.

I was told,

"Keep it inside, kid, no one else can know about the things you
think about that keep you up at night."

At an early age, I learned that talking about my feelings was
a sign of weakness.

I learned that boys aren't supposed to cry. So I kept the tears
inside until they became an ocean.

And for the past ten years, I've barely been afloat.

I desperately reach for every piece of driftwood I can find.

I eventually realized that there's got to be something more
than this life of drowning.

I began to let myself feel.

Slowly, the years of being told talking about my feelings was
not okay spill out of my chest.

Every tear, the water lowers.

And as the fear of speaking out about the thoughts
in my head leaves me, so does this ocean that
has kept me under.

The water spills out, my feet touch the bottom, and for the
first time in my life, I am free of the stigma of mental illness.

SOIL

We must find the most fertile soil and lose ourselves in all
the nourishment it has to offer.

IF WE WERE TREES

Let the shame you feel about your brain being ill fall from
your limbs like the leaves fall from the trees.

Let your branches be free from the weight of self-hate.

The only way to grow is to shed yourself of the old.

Spring always comes.


FLIPPING THROUGH PHOTOS WITH GRANDMA

I remember going through newly developed photographs
with my grandma.

We'd find humor in the ones where my
grandpa's finger would disrupt the composition,
most of which would get tossed.

I wish our thoughts were more like these photographs.

The ones that we like most end up in frames upon our
mantels, and the ones that give us pain get thrown away and
forgotten forever.


THE MUSIC OF OUR DANCING RIBS

You are worthy of the breath you just took.

So take in another, and another, and another, until your
lungs are filled and your ribs dance to the music of existence.


PRAISE SONGS

The deafening voice in your head proclaiming you aren't
good enough can be drowned out by a chorus of everything
beautiful and wonderful and extraordinary about you.

I will forever sing,

"You are infinitely lovely."


WHAT WE WEREN'T TAUGHT AS KIDS

It's okay to cry. Every tear is a river gracefully flowing
through the pain, taking your heart to a place
it can finally rest.


DIRT

Sometimes I feel unwanted,
like the mud beneath one's shoe.

When in reality, I am like the soil
where beautiful flowers bloom.


BREAKING THE CURSE

You carry the pain from your childhood like an old habit
you just can't shake.

But you aren't defined by what your parents did.

So take a moment to close your eyes and let the weight
from your family of origin waterfall to the ground
and wash your tired feet.

I pray you find peace and become free.


THE HANDS OF A CLOCK

Time is a road that runs between the moment of pain and the
closure that comes.

The beauty concerning time is that it always moves forward,
lessening the distance to the peace that was stolen away.

Every step forward you take on this road is a victory.


TOGETHERNESS

I like to think about seeds and how they end up where they
please, growing into wildflowers with their vibrant colors
and free spirits. I like to think about the trees in the distance
and the grass that dances in the wind like soft ocean waves. I
like to think about how we are just as much a part of it all.


LETTING GO

Serenity can only exist in our heads when we let go of the
hate we have towards ourselves.

We tend to overwhelm our brains with expectations we
simply can't attain.

Letting go, although difficult, is the seed that will grow into
the serenity we deserve.


THE BOOKS AT A GARAGE SALE

We are like books,
torn and tattered.

With stories unfinished,
our ending awaits.

But like books, all that matters
is the chapters and verses and the words they say.


WORDS WRITTEN ON THE BEACH

The hateful words spoken into the sand of your heart will be
washed away by waves of love and grace.


OVERFLOW

It's okay to rest
and take care of the heart in your own chest.

We must first care for ourselves
before we can care for others.

So open your ribs and dig,
until you find the beating heart you forgot was there.

Loving yourself is not selfish.

When you do,
happiness fills your bones until it overflows,
touching everyone around you.


A WILDFLOWER, ALONE

When you feel invisible, remember that the wildflower that
blooms deep in the field, unseen and shyly swaying in the
wind, is beautiful.


THE EBB AND FLOW OF FRIENDSHIP

Everyone leaves when you need them to stay.
Everyone stays when you need them to leave.
Loving yourself is the consistency you seek,
since the only constant that exists is you.


LET IT BE

Healing will come when we stop picking at our wounds
with shame and guilt.


THE SUN SPEAKS WITH LOVE

Looming self-doubt clouds the sunrise we are gifted with
every single morning.

We tend to forget it's there,
as if we think we don't deserve it.

But, you can only take in the sunrise
if you open your eyes long enough to let your mind
imprint the picture on your heart.

Still, the sun comes alive hoping to remind you
you are worthy of its everlasting warmth.

So open your eyes, even if you're scared, and take it in
one color at a time.


THE MOON BEHIND THE CLOUDS

Even when the clouds shield our eyes from the stars,
they still shine on.

Even when our negative thoughts hide our hearts
from the loveliness that we hold,
we still emanate beauty.

Even when we can't see the light,
it is always there waiting.


WHATEVER YOU NEED TO BE

You are a red flower in the midst of yellow ones. Or a yellow
flower in the midst of red ones. Or a rogue sunflower alone
in a field. Or a dandelion dancing in someone's backyard.
Never forget, you are uniquely and wonderfully made.


SHEDDING SHAME

Shame is the most crushing of emotions
that bury us at such a young age.

We spend the rest of our lives digging ourselves
out of this pit.

What would this world look like if we taught our children
to esteem themselves?

Oh, how it would be glorious.


THE SOUL, AN ATLAS

I unraveled my veins and found a map so intricate.

The center of it all is a heart so delicate.

Every heartbeat is a journey so incredibly elaborate.

Don't you see?

Every single one of us has a world inside ourselves worthy
of our attention and love.


THE COLORS ON A CANVAS

To be vulnerable is to pry open our ribs and show the scars
on our hearts, all while they still beat.

Despite the scars, our hearts still sing.

To be vulnerable is to show this world there is such a thing
as victory over pain.


AN ATTEMPT TO REWRITE HISTORY

Somewhere between our first breaths and now, we learned
how to hate ourselves.

I've been retracing my steps trying to find the origin of such
a travesty.


OVERWHELMED

You feel so small compared to the world. Yet, you are seen
as infinitely valuable in the eyes of the ones around you.

Never forget, when you see this vast existence and become
overwhelmed, all I see is you and the vastness of everything
about you that is lovely. I hope, one day, you can see
what I see.


WHILE EATING AN APPLE

The bruised fruit from our tired labors, although imperfect,
still tastes sweet.


THE SMELL AFTER IT RAINS

I fell asleep to the sound of raindrops on the windows. The
soft tapping brought me peace.

I awoke to find a pleasant scent waiting at my doorstep, an
aroma that greeted me lovingly.

I am reminded that inside of all of us is a strength like a
storm and a gentleness like petrichor.


MORNING BREATHING EXERCISES

Breathe in the beauty that you see
when you look in the mirror.

Breathe out the lies this world has told you
about how one should look.


THE SWEET SOUND OF HARMONY

I've been writing poems about the things I fear most to get
them off my chest so I can burn the pages and watch the
flames swallow up the pain before I rewrite the story.

I learned that if we embrace the mistakes we make they
become a canvas easily painted over with vibrant colors
in a way that tells a story of grace.

You see, we're all in this together.

Our beating hearts should be enough common ground to
love your neighbor and engage in community. So let's sing
along with life's melody feeling free to sing differently, our
voices blending into harmony.

As we grow, we realize a new perspective:
we're called to leave this place better than we found it.

We'll pick up the pieces and cherish them because it's where
we came from.

You know, it's the story behind the scars that shapes us, not
the pain we felt when they were made that allows us to keep
breathing, and stay afloat in the stormy waters that we go
through some days.

And when we see our brothers and sisters sinking, no matter
how heavy the anchor, we'll reach for their hands until
we've got them in our grasp and never let go.

And when we pull them to the shore, we will sing, and
dance, and breathe in the sweet air we've been longing for.

We're all in this together.