Much like many famous painters who’ve expressed their heartache on canvas, poetry too can often be a method used to convey pain and trauma; Processing it through the mind and then out to the fingertips, with words that flow mellifluously onto paper as a symptom of a tumultuous road.
Student Maggie Bedrin is no exception, using her poetry as an outlet to her deepest thoughts and emotions. Afterall, even our innermost sensations deserve to breathe.
Bedrin’s poetry comes from the inspiration of the misfits; “A large part of it [where her inspiration comes from] is being generally misunderstood by lots of peers. There seems to be a lot of disconnection between my home life and mental illness,” Bedrin says. “There was a severe lack of communication in my childhood; I’ve worked very hard at communicating as a person.”
She began using poetry as an outlet her freshman year of high school, writing a poem daily; Sometimes up to twelve. She had just moved to Oregon from Dublin, California, and she “didn’t have any friends. I felt less lonely when I was writing about my feelings.”
Bringing her process into adulthood, at the young age of 19 Bedrin carries herself like a fine pink floral aged mead, only getting richer with time and a little wild in its complex flavor. She continues to do poetry because she feels she can accurately express herself that way, hoping to be better understood.
Most recently, she has been diagnosed with complex PTSD.
“I have a very new diagnosis that I think is commonly misunderstood because it’s hardly studied. It’s called complex PTSD, which you can think of as the worst umbrella term. Complex PTSD, for me, can include OCD, bipolar, personality disorder, anxiety and depression, memory loss, and more.”
This diagnosis in her case is caused by childhood trauma. Like gasoline on a fire, Bedrin uses this trauma as fuel for her poems. To date, she has written three poetry books, the first is titled “The Underwater City (My Deepest Thoughts.)” However, she has a fear of copyright, so if you’re interested in purchasing one of her books, she has asked that you reach out via her email; Margaret.bedrin.4172@mail.linnbenton.edu.
“Maggie is so talented and good at everything she does. I just wish she liked her own art as much as everyone else does,” says student Anna-Marie Smith.
Though studying graphic design, her primary mediums include writing, painting, and ceramics. One of her most proud pieces is a series of paintings and poems called “The Bluest Tears.” This four part series is “about a girl who loses the ability to see the primary colors because of grief. In each painting and poem, she regains one of the primary colors through healing.” Stay tuned for another article featuring this set.
Bedrins goal as a writer is to try and reach the public, to “help people understand [mental illness as a whole] and to create a better dialogue.” She does ceramics “mostly for my mental health.” Ceramic Professor Renee McKitterickcan often be heard telling her students that “ceramics is cheap therapy.”
She hopes that within her artwork, both of the writing and the 3D plane, she can reach those who may or may not be struggling with mental health. “I’m sorry for the possible hardships you have faced. I hope my poetry brings you comfort.”
In reference to mental health treatment, Bedrin says, “I think one should only seek therapy when they are ready to listen. Everyone needs to heal at their own pace.”
Below are five of Bedrins’ poems.
Second Thoughts of a Second Skull
“This is about how trauma robs you of a lot of things. Such as energy motivation, or even relationships.”
I suppose carrying trauma
Is like having a second head
Probably rotten
Rotting
Probably broken
Probably dead
It feeds off your life
Yet stays so dull and sore
Like an eraser only taking life
When you only wish for more
I suppose it happens in the worst of times
Where you’re already too tired
It sucks the color from your words
Leaving kindness to be desired
And I suppose it takes the happiness
From both you and I
For you can’t act too nice
And so I can’t reply
And suppose you’re trying very very hard just to change
Trying to find
Not having a second head won’t be too very strange
And soon you’ll lack your second thoughts
Of another skull to your brain
You’ll have color
You’ll lack strife
You’ll be free and full
And full of life
An Unforgettable Feast
“This poem is about overanalyzing yourself in search of a solution.”
The rabbit feasted on the moon
As it’s only source of life
Picking at the craters
Using teeth like a knife
“It doesn’t taste like cheese,”
The rabbit tells the black
“It tastes more like dust,
And the life is does lack”
While the rabbit’s eating
It’s running out of room
No room to place it’s feet
While it still moves to consume
So feast away it does
Till standing on a rock
Balancing on its tip toes
It still does try to talk
“I’ve feasted on myself,”
The rabbit tells the moon
“For myself I have destroyed,
And now I lack a room,
Tell me simple stars,
If I didn’t feast,
Would I still be empty?
Or would I be at peace?”
Complex PTSD
“This poem is specifically about complex PTSD, paranoia, and memory loss. One of my favorite lines in this poem is ‘as I seek forgiveness for things I did not do.’”
The farther I reach into my mind, the less I can grab
And the nothingness naws at me, as I am a mindless fool
Full of too many thoughts and not enough memories to think of
But questioning if I really want them leaves me thankful that I can’t remember
My memory doesn’t serve me well, and for that I should be thankful or maybe just afraid
Afraid of what waits for me as I seek forgiveness for mistakes I didn’t make
Afraid of the realizations, the thoughts, and the fears that wait for me in the dark
I find myself seeking fear, as I cannot help it
There has to be something there, behind the corner, just past that door, on the other side of my bedroom walls.
Something waits.
It has to be waiting, I have not seen it.
I must have a reason to be afraid. It is what’s not there that I fear, and everything invisible that keeps me there
Before the corner, in front of the door, and inside my bedroom walls
It is I who keeps myself here, and for that I am thankful and also afraid
A Fearful Flight
“This one is about misconceptions with anxiety and the ability to do things; Once you are about to do something, it is easy. Well it’s not.”
“If we fear the fall,
We will never fly,
Since a bird never doubts its wings,
Why the hell should I?”
“You’re forgetting the most important piece,
The steps to the cliff,
The baby bird would look at the ground,
And just go straight up stiff,
For each feathered thing must learn,
What it’s like to fly,
Also how to fall,
And not to fear too much to die.”
One’s wise, One’s wicked
“This is about me not opening up to people in fear of being hurt. It’s about my vulnerability, consent, and my feelings.”
“If you’ll only part your ribs,
Enough for me to see,
I’ll plant a flower,
But I need your key.”
I scowled at him
For I knew
That once a flower’s rooted
It tangles around and through
Each bone
Every organ
And every single thought
Leaving me defenseless
Leaving me to rot
I spun my ring of keys on my fingers
And he stared at my heart
Locked and guarded
And not to be torn apart
“You must think yourself very wise,
With such a full proof plan,
But I promise you,
I’ll never give my heart to such a man,
You may have given me flowers,
A letter and a ring,
But one thing you never brought,
Is the love you couldn’t bring.”
