I bought a shirt once.
Light blue, soft cotton, on sale,
the top left corner read
“It comes in waves.”
A beachy line,
thought up by a designer
to make another summertime cent.
But it struck a chord with me.
So much of my life came in waves.
People.
Hobbies.
Memories.
Emotions.
Happiness.
Sadness.
Grief.
Anxiety.
Depression.
What starts as a fleeting feeling,
a fickle thought,
grows, grows, grows
way out in the depths of my ocean,
travels slowly across the glimmering surface
until it laps softly against my sandy shore,
submerging me under its sea-green weight.
Sometimes those waves become rip currents,
quickly dragging me under its forceful grandeur,
washing me in past longing and regret,
holding me captive under a curse of my own creation,
letting me go just before I let go.
Eventually the wave pulls back,
taking with it grains of myself to the deepest depths of my ocean,
gone and almost forgotten
until another salty wave returns to my shore,
carrying those feelings, those memories, those fears,
and I become submerged again,
beautifully, horribly, briefly drowning.
It comes in waves.
Click here to read more poems about the beach and its symbolism to mental health.
Here’s some additional links for different mental health resources!
