Artist's Statement
This poem is about the political issue of mental illness. I wrote this because it is a very personal issue for me, and I think it is one of the most misunderstood and falsely reported issues. I have struggled with anxiety and depression, and I want people to understand what it really feels like. It is one of the most stigmatized things in the world, and it shouldn't have to be. As long as we keep being open and honest, we can continue on the right path of destigmatizing mental illness.
You’re Mental
Trapped, but somehow floating free
Buoyant forever in an endless abyss,
Scrabbling for any sort of handhold, anything not hovering free
Split open yet stuck closed, all information evident on the surface and locked away below
Palpitating heart, blurry vision, blood stops, there’s a thought collision
Chemicals rushing to and fro, not sure what to do, not sure where to go
Bottles, bodies, slapped with labels
Stuck to one word for existence, a word that says everything?
Anxiety = agitation, apprehension, always angsty, always anxious
Depression = downhearted, despondent, divided into divisions
Autism = antisocial, apathetic, angry, amiss
But people = people
A word that says what’s most important about what’s inside the container
Parasites running through the mind, picking fights, starting wars
The sweet taste of hope tickles the tongue before fleeing the onslaught of bitter pain
Organs twist in confusion and aching cramps
Running through dark streets, hopelessly lost, phone dead, alone
Begging for a map, a street sign, anything
Yet they are nowhere to be found
Because the disease is all in the head, is it actually potent?
If the disease holds every aspect of your life in its claws, it is the most potent thing in the universe.
Trampled toys trapped under the toes of tall,
Crying for relief from the pain
Begging for their money to mean something,
But the towers merely glance down at the mess below.
The tall, tall towers pretend they care, pretend your money means something
But they won’t give it back when you need it most
BRIIING, BRIIING
9-1-1, what’s your emergency?
My mind’s messed up, and I need help, I can’t focus.
We can help you. Thank you for calling, it will get better.
BRIIING, BRIIING
9-1-1, what’s your emergency?
I feel like I want to die?
Stay strong, help is on its way.
BRIIING, BRIIING
9-1-1, what’s your emergency?
I don’t understand what’s happening to my head anymore.
Trapped, but somehow floating free
Buoyant forever in an endless abyss,
Scrabbling for any sort of handhold, anything not hovering free
Split open yet stuck closed, all information evident on the surface and locked away below
Palpitating heart, blurry vision, blood stops, there’s a thought collision
Chemicals rushing to and fro, not sure what to do, not sure where to go
Bottles, bodies, slapped with labels
Stuck to one word for existence, a word that says everything?
Anxiety = agitation, apprehension, always angsty, always anxious
Depression = downhearted, despondent, divided into divisions
Autism = antisocial, apathetic, angry, amiss
But people = people
A word that says what’s most important about what’s inside the container
Parasites running through the mind, picking fights, starting wars
The sweet taste of hope tickles the tongue before fleeing the onslaught of bitter pain
Organs twist in confusion and aching cramps
Running through dark streets, hopelessly lost, phone dead, alone
Begging for a map, a street sign, anything
Yet they are nowhere to be found
Because the disease is all in the head, is it actually potent?
If the disease holds every aspect of your life in its claws, it is the most potent thing in the universe.
Trampled toys trapped under the toes of tall,
Crying for relief from the pain
Begging for their money to mean something,
But the towers merely glance down at the mess below.
The tall, tall towers pretend they care, pretend your money means something
But they won’t give it back when you need it most
BRIIING, BRIIING
9-1-1, what’s your emergency?
My mind’s messed up, and I need help, I can’t focus.
We can help you. Thank you for calling, it will get better.
BRIIING, BRIIING
9-1-1, what’s your emergency?
I feel like I want to die?
Stay strong, help is on its way.
BRIIING, BRIIING
9-1-1, what’s your emergency?
I don’t understand what’s happening to my head anymore.
Emergencies emerge with urgency
“Increase in mental health calls could be a sign of fading stigma”
When you are willing to call out for help, someone, somewhere will hear you.
And there is hope, there is a light at the end of the tunnel.
It may be an enduring, decades-long tunnel, but that light will only get brighter and closer
And that tunnel is not always lonely
There are lanterns along the way to chase away the looming shadows
You never have to do it solo
There are hearts who beat along with us, hearts who care.
Hearts who understand that it can capture us at any time, who know we can all use saving
Like Alderman Beale, using his political sacrifices to sacrifice for us
to give us hospitals, places to live and heal
The moon is a symbol of beauty and light when it is simply reflecting someone else’s light. That can be you too, you can reflect until you can repair.
“Increase in mental health calls could be a sign of fading stigma”
When you are willing to call out for help, someone, somewhere will hear you.
And there is hope, there is a light at the end of the tunnel.
It may be an enduring, decades-long tunnel, but that light will only get brighter and closer
And that tunnel is not always lonely
There are lanterns along the way to chase away the looming shadows
You never have to do it solo
There are hearts who beat along with us, hearts who care.
Hearts who understand that it can capture us at any time, who know we can all use saving
Like Alderman Beale, using his political sacrifices to sacrifice for us
to give us hospitals, places to live and heal
The moon is a symbol of beauty and light when it is simply reflecting someone else’s light. That can be you too, you can reflect until you can repair.
It is okay not to be okay
Just breathe, breathe, breathe in that sweet air.
The sweet air that would not exist if you were to disappear
Despair beware, the care you swear off will flare with flair
and the air will taste sweet again soon, I promise.
 |
| Mental Illness, Namica.org (2014) |
Artist's Statement
In this poem, I attempt to let the reader know exactly how it feels, at least in my experience, to have a mental illness. To do this, I utilize metaphors, like the towers and the toys, to explain political issues like healthcare coverage, which almost always excludes coverage for mental health services. For my specific current event, I chose to discuss the increasing mental health calls in almost every US city, which implies decreasing stigmas and more willingness to get help. I also discussed the Chicago alderman, Beale, who has been very outspoken about mental health and increasing standards in psychiatric hospitals all around the city. I hope that my poem can make it clear to neurotypical people how it feels, but also give hope to those who are struggling with mental illness at the point.
In this poem, I attempt to let the reader know exactly how it feels, at least in my experience, to have a mental illness. To do this, I utilize metaphors, like the towers and the toys, to explain political issues like healthcare coverage, which almost always excludes coverage for mental health services. For my specific current event, I chose to discuss the increasing mental health calls in almost every US city, which implies decreasing stigmas and more willingness to get help. I also discussed the Chicago alderman, Beale, who has been very outspoken about mental health and increasing standards in psychiatric hospitals all around the city. I hope that my poem can make it clear to neurotypical people how it feels, but also give hope to those who are struggling with mental illness at the point.
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