A Floating Brain

I press each finger into the mat. My fingers are sore from writing essays and scribbling notes. My knuckles crack as I press into them. I push back into my hips and feel my calves stretch. My tendons tighten as I stretch into downward dog. The instructor conducts our breathing. I’ve been going to the free yoga at the university three times a week. I’m finally back in my body. Paying attention doesn’t hurt the way it used to. We’re a team.

The Ocean I've Never Seen

I stood on a balcony feeling the breeze of an evening on the Amalfi coast. I watched the waves and the boats and a silhouette go down a water-slide. I saw a blue and purple sky dotted by the moon. I'm not one to happy-cry (that's not usually a depressed person's thing) but my eyes welled up with tears. I felt the ache of knowing there is so much of the ocean I've never seen.

Breakfast of Chumpions

In university, I learned that I liked eggs (at least I learned something). Every weekend, my haggard friends and I would hit up a cheap diner after one of our nights out. We would discuss who had slept with who, who got the drunkest, and how sweaty our one friend got when he danced (he knows who he is). But mostly, we’d devour our eggs and bacon and hash browns and as hungover as I usually was, I probably would have poured grease into my mouth if it was socially acceptable.


Sheer desperation caused me to take antidepressants. I hated the idea of taking them. Well, at least the idea of me taking them. Outwardly, I was a gong-ho supporter of mental health campaigns, tweeting #BellLetsTalk, and dutifully listening whenever one of my friends felt down or stressed. But there was a dissonance between my superficial support of mental health and my utter denial of my own issues.

Self-Care For Idiots (Me)

My therapist told me I needed to raise my quality of life through self-care. At this point, I couldn’t even care about myself enough to eat, so this seemed like a pretty big joke. I held back my cynical cackle because I thought inappropriate laughter in a therapist’s office would not help my case for sanity.