I Didn't Realize I Was Writing About Mental Health
That’s the power of writing...
May is Mental Health Awareness Month, and looking back at Stuff I’ve Been Feeling Lately, I realize I was writing about mental health long before I had the tools or language to understand it. In 2015, I didn’t yet have the words for anxiety, grief, or healing in the way I do now—but I understood them through poetry. The book became a place where unspoken emotions could exist safely, where I could make sense of what I was feeling without fully knowing why.
Sometimes writing reveals truths we didn’t know we were carrying. I wasn’t consciously writing about mental health; I was just writing about… well… stuff I'd been feeling lately. (The book’s title is quite on the nose.) But when writers practice the act of putting language to experience, it unearths deeper narratives and the subtext of our days.
That’s the power of writing: sometimes, it helps us understand ourselves before we’re ready to.
Today, I share some of my favorite lines from my debut poetry collection.
PS. Did you know Stuff I’ve Been Feeling Lately has been adapted into a song cycle?!
Excerpts from Stuff I’ve Been Feeling Lately
It’s as if I am wearing hand-me-down memories from a life that doesn’t fit quite right. Imagine the anguish felt by having your own existence on the tip of your tongue. (Track 3)
He looks in my eyes and he knows he’s lost me. Not forever but for the next few hours. My stare is unfocused; the sadness simmering inside of me has boiled to the surface. I feel every organ that matters: my lungs, my heart, my brain. They have become heavy, weighing me down in bed. (Track 89)
The humidity in the air has caused my footprints to create a trail on the tile. Now my mother is going to be able to tell I have been walking in circles. (Track 75)
“Are you having another one of your dark days?” My father asks. Days in a daze become weeks of being weak. Months become moths that eat holes into my favorite moments. (Track 74)
I am starting to sleep at a normal hour again. So that probably means I am healing. I still have some trouble getting out of bed come morning, but I learned what matters most is getting out of bed at all. Even if I just move to the couch. The couch is not the bed. (Track 66)
I do not believe we lose ourselves. I’d like to think we would never lose something so precious if we could help it. That, my friends, I think life steals from us from time to time. (Track 52)
Most days I find myself stumbling over flat surfaces and expectations. (Track 40)
The stranger at the airport asks me, "So, where are you coming from?" (How specific do you want me to get? I’m coming from therapy. I’m coming from a weekend of binge drinking. I’m coming from a sleepless night and a migraine I’m still feeling.)
I answer, “New Jersey.” (Track 31)
My corrupt decisions weigh on my chest, methodically pushing down to crack each rib, in hopes of infiltrating my heart and finally exterminating the last shred of the human being I once was. I can’t lose me. I’m all I’ve got. (Track 27)
Even at my most put together, I’ll look a bit disheveled. On more than one occasion, my friends have told me, “I would not want to spend one minute in your head.” (Track 25).