How I met Poetry
I mention it a couple times in my poetry how I got started with it all.
I was in 7th grade and my English teacher was out on maternity leave and there was a sub most of the year. I liked her. She was young, fun, and kind of cool. I remember her loving poetry and trying to share her love of literature with the class. I loved poetry too. I wrote my first poem at 10 and continued to write privately since. Until one day she prompted us to write a poem inspired from the words “I’m from.”
The class heard the two words and began calling out loud where they’re from natively. I have a terrible habit of comparing myself to others so you can imagine the thoughts that ran through my head as I, someone who writes poetry, was stuck. It was at this time in life I felt disconnected with so many things I couldn’t exactly pinpoint where I felt I was from. I’ve always been someone who struggles emotionally. I feel things deeply and it makes it hard to express and handle. Poetry has been a space for me to release my emotions no matter their nature.
After a few moments of living inside my head, I found inspiration from what usually drives my poetry, my emotions. As the kids wrote about their countries of origin I wrote from my heart. She gave us a time limit and I’m surprised I finished it. I almost never finish within time limits.
When the time was up, she asked the class who wanted to recite their work. I heard all the classmate’s poetry, and no one interpreted the poem like mine. I didn’t know what to make of it, but I was proud of the work I’d written, so I decided to share it. I shared my work last and the class loved it. The sub asked me if she could keep the poem and I thought it was because she loved it too.
Photography by @Thirty1Eighty8
Turns out she thought I was depressed. And she wasn’t entirely wrong. I went to the psychologist’s office for the first time and answered yes to questions I thought everyone else felt too. I was being honest. I was a young kid with emotions so dark it’s still cloudy to this day. This was the first time I shared my work with anyone and a part of me felt betrayed as I wasn’t sure what was to come.
Awkward conversations, weekly therapy sessions and medication I didn’t want to take followed the weeks after I shared my poem, my feelings. As a young kid, I hated the idea of it all. I thought I was being punished for feeling this way.
“as a social worker sometimes all we have to do is plant the seed and hope others continue to help it grow. We don’t always get to see the result, but we know we helped along the way.”
My boss now tells me “as a social worker sometimes all we have to do is plant the seed and hope others continue to help it grow. We don’t always get to see the result, but we know we helped along the way.” The seed was definitively planted back then. Therapy was something to get used to for sure, but with time I learned to appreciate the help I was given.
Talking about my mental health to others at a young age was frightening. It’s terrifying still as an adult. But as I’m teaching the clients I work with; emotions don’t go away just because we ignore them. Sometimes we need to feel them, let them pass, talk about them, or dive deep into them in a healthy way. I choose to express my deepest thoughts through my poetry, and it’s been something that continues to help during dark times.
Creating art through expression is something I encourage others to do. It doesn’t have to be perfect or mean anything. It’s you and whatever you make. It’s one thing to think of your emotions, it’s another to write them down, create them, share them, see them. A part of you now lives in front of you and I think that’s why I’ll never stop expressing myself in this art form. It’s only ever led me exactly where I’m supposed to be.
