POETRY | CATHARSIS | HEALING | MENTAL HEALTH
Our Vulnerabilities and Catharsis
Tanka Prose
When I signed up to volunteer for an online mental health program to help, I was apprehensive. I was apprehensive while I questioned myself — if I could be a good hearer… through chat, if I could be of [genuine] assistance to people in need… through chat. Yet, there I was, logging in anonymously… taking a step forward towards healing I so needed for myself. I wanted to help people. I wanted to, despite being surrounded by a soot-black fog myself. I couldn’t bring myself to counsel people in person… This was a better option, nonetheless.
What I observed next startled me: Chat requests every few minutes… all they needed was a space to unleash the totalities of their repressed and troubled sentiments, someone to talk [to] without reasonings. I met their emotions, feelings, and thoughts… all spattered in every corner of the chat window. Help, did I, with all my sincerity. Small accolades of kind words followed by gratitude [for prompt responses and being a patient hearer] made my day.
In times like these [of people not having time for themselves] this is amazing: a dependable ordinal world for depressed souls, offering them the much-needed aid, those few moments of nonjudgmental attention. Their “feeling-better” messages…
