The opinions expressed in this article are the writer’s own and do not reflect the views of The University of Scranton.
Since high school, I have always struggled with my mental health. Around junior high, I started writing songs and poetry. Since last year’s episode, I’ve become a strong advocate for mental health, especially depression and anxiety. Writing was my way of telling my story when I couldn’t tell anyone.
At some point during elementary school, I began journaling. It became a way to decompress after school before starting my homework. My mother inspired me; she always kept a journal beside her bed and wrote in it during times of crisis. As a child, I would sometimes write my thoughts in her journal.
When I was twelve, I saw Taylor Swift’s 1989 tour and immediately started writing songs and learning guitar. I wanted to be just like her. But I wasn’t just writing songs; I was writing poetry.
During the 2020 lockdown, writing was the only normal thing I had to keep me sane. It was my anchor to reality. I wrote about my uncle’s death. I wrote about meeting some of my best friends sophomore year and how it all got taken away because of the pandemic. I wrote about my first heartbreak. I didn’t realize until later that I had been writing about my mental health all along. Being locked in your house made it even harder for teenagers to maintain healthy in-person communication.
Around junior year of high school, I started to think I was a horrible writer. One of my teachers pulled me aside after reading a particularly weak AP Language essay. It hurt my ego, I’ll admit that. Writing is a skill, though, and one you have to keep working at. I found myself more drawn to creative writing. I was discovering a secret passion.
During senior year of high school and into freshman year of college, I experienced my first depressive episode. My social anxiety was intense. I was bullied and harassed by the “mean girls,” and I was terrified of the future. I didn’t even have names for the emotions I was feeling. I felt like an alien. Still, there was a glimmer of hope in my writing, like the moment you meet your best friend, and she’s wearing a maroon top. Freshman year, I also went through a friendship breakup that felt like the end of the world. But looking back at my writing, I realized how much of a support system I had on campus, and most importantly, within my theater community.
Sophomore year brought another depressive episode. I was dealing with several toxic relationships, especially in the spring. One of them was with my ex-roommate, who made me feel like I couldn’t speak. I felt trapped. At the same time, I was reconciling with my best friend from home after a falling out. That’s when I realized writing had saved my life. On nights when I couldn’t say out loud what was wrong, I wrote everything from my own perspective. It wasn’t until this past summer that I was comfortable talking about it. I didn’t even realize what had happened until I finally escaped it. That piece is still one of my favorites I’ve ever written.
This past summer, I became obsessed with understanding what I love about the artists and poets I listen to or read. Taylor Swift hides easter eggs, connecting her past works to her present with rich metaphors. Sabrina Carpenter writes with humor and self-awareness; she doesn’t take herself too seriously. Green Day captures the paranoia and angst of being a teenager in a society that’s constantly shifting.
To tie this all together: I’m now writing a book called Written in the Stars about all the work I’ve created over the years. I’m also working on another book titled Glamorous, a story about a celebrity who never forgets who she is. I’ve loved watching my writing evolve. I can understand now how healing it must have been for Taylor Swift to re-record her old music. Reading something that once felt like it almost killed you—and realizing it made you stronger—that’s powerful. Embrace the cringe.