Mental health is a huge part of my life. I've watched my mother go through the dark struggles of depression and anxiety, and I personally struggle with anxiety myself. I was going through some old poems and found one that I wrote after my first real therapy session. I thought I would share because the emotion behind this was so raw at the time.

Looking back now, I see my denial. Mental health needs to be openly talked about; it's so important. Here's my poem:

Therapy

A couple of hours ago,

I sat on a couch
full of dust
and I could smell the fresh water
of the waterfall placed next to me.
You sat right across from me.
You had a crisp sheet of paper
and a clicky-clacky pen.
You told me

to close my eyes
and go to my quiet place.
then you counted backwards from
ten
and said, “Open your eyes when I get to one.”

I opened my eyes at seven and looked around the room.

why am I here?