They say you’re always in your head
Sit and rest in the soil.
Ground your feet in its moisture.
Allow your feet to dig into nature’s peace.
Feel the soil in your palm, feel its natural stillness. Watch as each chunk of soil crumbles in your hand then back on the ground.
Hear your breath sync with the natural rhythm of the air. Each in and out breath recycled.
Sit and rest on the soil.
Notice your position to the trees above you. Notice how to be. Notice the enlightened realness of simply existing.
Rest in the roots of nature’s natural medicine.
Feel the peace radiate out of the earth.
Simply because I’ve been in a mental turmoil, I ask to be reeled into safety where I can find peace again. Peace will fight for me. Peace can teach me to hope again. Where did my peace go? Please, peace come back to me.
Read it on The Mighty!
Mental. Break. Down.
You are broken.
Not good enough.
Keep to yourself.
It’s not that serious.
Get over it.
You are faking.
You have a fake illness.
It’s not that serious.
You are being difficult again.
No one wants to hear you.
You’re talking too much.
Look what you did.
What is it to have a mental breakdown? To feel the gradual overflow and overwhelm. To give in and allow the thoughts to consume all of you. The mental breakdown that takes you with it. That you believe everything it says. To be overruled by sadness and anxiety. To judge yourself so much it becomes who you are. To you it becomes truth. Every problem is your fault, and every mistake yours to make.
The mental breakdown.
“I am” is the most powerful two words you can utter. The more you declare and affirm who you are, the more you will teach yourself kindness, empathy, love, power, and independence.
As we venture into the realm of declarative “I am” statements, know that we will do so with grace, forgiveness, an open mind, and strength.
We know who we are so, therefore, we know who we are not. We know that we are more and not less. Declare more while disowning the negative counterparts.
You are someone. You are someone with a journey. You are someone with a purpose. You are someone with a mind. You are someone with a voice.
So, tell me who you are.
Read this poem on The Mighty
The thing about selfies is you can get the right angel. Put the right face. Send the story you want to tell.
The thing about selfies is you can hide your pain and insecurities. You can filter out what you don’t want to see. You can convince yourself that what you hate about yourself can be taken out.
The thing about selfies is you create what you want to see. You craft the image you want others to see. You unsee the flaws and the suffering.
The thing about selfies is the life is taken out of the snapshot. Just one moment. One instance of stillness.
Selfies are our way of capturing the best light of ourselves. The selves we get excited for we capture in an instant.
When we turn the wrong direction we hate it. We delete it. We don’t want to see it. We speak I’ll of our image.
And that is who we are.
We can’t look at ourselves for long moments in the mirror, in our lives in motion, instead we would rather take a selfie.
A selfie stops time to capture the one moment we see ourselves as beautiful because otherwise that’s not who we see at all.
I’ve been awake at night and asleep during the day.
My eyes dried with the stale realization that I don’t matter.
My voice is low with no echo and no significance. Fingers pointing at me because I’m the dramatic one.
My motivation has wasted from its high expectation.
I fall flat on my face with this realization.
I feel broken, shattering into a million pieces, so I try to grab onto the nearest person to me, but they look at me confused…uncaring…whats wrong with you?
I scream but no sounds comes out. I’m sitting alone. I’m holding my knees to my chest.
I feel pain.
I see the sun come up.
And still I can’t see who I’m supposed to become.
My life has no meaning.
I write it down so I can see it…
You are a life worth living.
You are a life worth living.
And while I wipe the pieces of my broken self and realize it’s just shedding ashes from the volcano that just erupted inside me, I get up.
Maybe, just maybe I will begin to see that my life is necessary.
I remember the time I was struck with insecurities about who I am.
How I couldn’t explain what I want to do, or who I want to be.
I remember being stuck…
Putting myself down…
After I was done doing a bad job at explaining my interests, I then immediately thought, wow, that’s stupid. What you want is not a thing.
You won’t get anywhere with that. Who does that? You’ve done nothing for yourself to get the unimaginable dream you want to come true.
And as I began to crush my dreams next to tangible accomplishments of the ones around me, I began to shrink. Shrink so small that I couldn’t see myself anymore. I saw myself in the muck and oil of my current state. I began to grab my aching back and bruised arms, rub the pain from my wrist, and throw up blood from the anxiety and the depression.
Then I thought, a hope so big brings people bed ridden for dead back to life. A hope that opens closed eyes and ears. A hope of power that flows and pumps blood to my heart every time. The one time I feel a touch of happiness is when I create something.
While my suffering heart feels myself floating and dispersing into the sea of forgotten faces of capitalistic tendencies, I remember, my dreams is what brought me back to life after my soul left my body..and into an oblivion I went…drowning in fear and regret, I thought I was nothing, but my dreams made me feel something. While my body and soul unite again it’s because of my pencil and my pen.
I remember why my heart started to beat and the oxygen came back into my lungs.
I created something.
Thats what I do.
I’m a motivator for life.
Living is my motto.
I remember I was struck with insecurities about who I am, then I thought one more time…I create to give back the life of those whos bodies have left their souls.
I came to give back hope