Your Life is a Beautiful Mental Health Poem

 dandelion showing the beauty of life

What if I told you your life is a beautiful mental health poem?

Have you ever considered that?

Would you believe me?

And if you wouldn’t, why on Earth not?

This is what I know.

Your life is beautiful because you are the one writing the script.

Your life has meaning because of what you give to it.

I didn’t always feel this way.

When I was younger, I let other people tell me what was meaningful—and what was worthy of my time. In the process, I gave my power to other people. I let them dictate the terms of my own life.

I’ve always had anxiety—and this self-transgression didn’t cause it—but it certainly didn’t help it either.

If you were anything like me, you probably felt pretty self-conscious as a child.

But don’t beat yourself up over it.

Society works its ways even over the purest of minds. Especially over the purest of minds.

It’s like society sees a blank template—and just wants to imprint itself upon it with whatever belief systems—false or not—that it can get away with.

What kinds of belief systems were foisted on you? Do you even know?

Start taking account of where you’ve been. Because now your life is a beautiful mental health poem, and it’s time for you to accept responsibility for it.

You are the dancer and the architect.

You are the fabricator of mind filaments, but before you can influence others, the mind you first need to build is your own.

So treat it with care.

This is your life, and the words you use to describe it will find their way down to your heart.

That’s what Nerve 10 is all about, actually. Nerve 10, also known as the vagus nerve, is the most important nerve in the body—and that is especially the case because a portion of its neural network travels between the mind and the heart.

Let me ask you: Do you choose words that simultaneously hit you in the mind and the heart?


 stick figure man hanging from a red heart

I didn’t at first.

I was either all in my head—and that’s when the anxiety was the worse—or I was all in my heart, meaning my mercurial emotions would get the best of me.

What I’ve learned, though, is that it doesn’t matter where you’ve been. Because your life is a beautiful mental health poem, and there always words that come next.

Take some time for that to sink in.

You don’t have to accept the words you hear from your family or your friends, from your coworkers, or from your religious or spiritual community.

You can experiment. You can play with words. You can jostle them around in your brain until you find the ones that are right for you.

And you’ll know which ones are right.

The more you seek your own answers, the more your intuition will develop.

But you do have to get going.

You can’t let someone else write your mental health poem because they can only write from their experiences—and their experiences are not your own.


This much is certain. You have been through so much.

And what seems straightforward to you will amaze others.

What you consider annoying about yourself is a gift in someone else’s eyes.

So go ahead and get it all down. Teach others what you know.

Don’t you want to get your words into the collective human record?

Our time on Earth is short.

Please give yourself permission to go for it.

Let other people have the opportunity to know you as you know you.

There are no rules for your poem, no artificial constraints or societal obligations.

The only absolute truth is that this is your mental health poem.

So it’s that time now; It’s time for me to turn these words over to you.

If you’ve made it this far, I know you’re ready for it.

Take these words and soar.