My mind is a vortex, but I am not my mind.

Poetry is a desperate expression trying to meet its counterpart in another soul.

I don’t think my mind works right.

I think it is supposed to work the way most other brains do.

I don’t know if most other brains work right.

I am overworked and overwhelmed and it is all my fault.

My body is breaking down and it’s all my fault.

My mind is breaking down and it’s all my fault.

I must remind myself that I am not my mind.

I am a fucking poet.

I can’t contain my feelings anymore and they are bursting. I can’t break the control my subconscious has on me. I have so much to be grateful for and all I do is complain.

I don’t hate myself, but I am so deeply critical of myself I can’t tell when I’ve actually made a mistake.

I don’t think my mind works right.

I don’t know where a safe place to talk about this is, not because it doesn’t exist, but because I am sick.

I wonder if the way I think is the way many other people think, and if we’re all mentally ill in some way.

I wonder if the way I think is the way other artists think, and if we’re all mentally ill in some way.

I wonder if the way I think is the way other poets think, and why I’m the only poet in the history of poetry to have mental illness.

I wonder when sarcasm is ever inappropriate.

Poetry is a way to break through the petty constraints of grammar and circumstance that keep our unarticulated feelings locked in a cage.

I think the system that we live in preys upon any person that feels too deeply for anything.

I am afraid because I felt so deeply a few times I struggled with every feeling I’ve had since.

I have learned how to handle myself because of the Trauma Informed Care training I’ve taken at work.

I have learned that I have trauma because of the Trauma Informed Care training I’ve taken at work.

I did not learn my trauma is valid.

The Trauma Informed Care training I’ve taken at work doesn’t tell me what to do when the trauma is my fault. It doesn’t tell me how to avoid spending the rest of my life standing in a crowd and feeling like an alien while my mind is thinking so furiously that it sounds like a buzzsaw, feeling guilty for existing because so many of the people I love don’t get that chance anymore.

I must remind myself that I am not my mind.

I must remember to lean on God for all things.

I must remind myself to make God the foundation for all things.

I must remind myself God exists.

I must remind myself that he loves me.

I must remind myself to meet myself where I’m at, as per the Trauma Informed Care training I’ve taken at work.

Mental illness is a hell of a drug, but sometimes I’m not sure if I’m mentally ill or privileged enough to be sad about things ninety percent of the world doesn’t even have the luxury to focus on. Privileged enough to assume it’s ninety percent of the world when those struggling people in destitute nations find far more gratitude and joy in their life than I do in mine.

I don’t understand how my feelings are valid when I have a roof over my head and food in my stomach. I don’t understand why people have to suffer and so much money goes to waste. I don’t understand why I can’t help everyone I see and I don’t understand why I look down on myself for that. I don’t understand why I judge people for not caring when I know first hand how much caring hurts.

I don’t understand why life has to be so hard even when you have it good.

I have rarely felt that I have done enough outside fleeting windows of time that I will treasure for the rest of my life. I have moments of crystalline clarity where I understand exactly what a gift my life and the people in it are, and then I lose myself to the minutiae of everyday life.

I must remind myself that I am not my mind.

I must remind myself that I am a fucking poet.

I must remind myself that I am not alone.

Sometimes my anxiety gets so bad I can’t breathe. I try to purse my lips and inhale and exhale like through a straw but it doesn’t help for long. Sometimes I sit in my chair and feel like I’m drowning. Sometimes I am so desperate to feel good it makes me ashamed that I don’t already feel good for all the wonderful people and things I have in my life.

I can not afford to think about how used to being alone I have become.

I can not afford to think that the love of my life is not with me.

I can not afford to think that there are loves in my life that are no longer with me.

I can not believe I was able to live several years of my life without anxiety.

I can not believe it can happen again.

I am afraid to write or type what I actually think and feel, so I do it anyway.

I have written so much poetry while I was alone that I forget when I write poetry now that I am no longer alone.

I tell my poems things I wouldn’t even tell my therapist.

Poetry is a warm blanket that lets us experience life through our words before we truly experience it in our thoughts.

Poetry is a man in a glass house throwing stones.

This poem is my house and these words are my stones.

When I feel too many things at once I push them all aside and move on.

When I’ve written all I can for one poem I just push it aside and move on.

Call 988 to reach the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. It provides free and confidential support 24 hours a day, seven days a week for people in suicidal crisis or distress. You can learn more about its services here, including its guide on what to do if you see suicidal language on social media. You can also call that number to talk to someone about how you can help a person in crisis. For crisis support in Spanish, call 1-888-628-9454.

For support outside of the US, a worldwide directory of resources and international hotlines is provided by the International Association for Suicide Prevention. You can also turn to Befrienders Worldwide.

Help is Available

If you or someone you love is living with substance use, alcohol misuse, a co-occurring, or a behavioral health disorder, there is hope. The Break Free Foundation aids individuals seeking recovery through the Break Free Scholarship Fund. It sends anyone who lacks the financial resources to attend a recovery center to do so at low to no cost.

Review our Treatment Locator Tool to find the right program near you, as well as our list of Hotlines and Helplines. Click here for a list of regional and national resources. On this road to recovery, no one is alone. We are all in this together.