My Brain And Heart Divorced – John Roedel

John Roedel has written a beautiful poem. Using anatomy, he threads words fluidly and meaningfully into memorable poetry. Caregiver, read Roedel’s lines slowly. Visualise them. Digest them. They will touch you like few others including myself.

Let us remember that no matter how composed we appear on the outside, each of us is dealing with something in life. A challenge. A joy. A disappointment. The inspiration for this poem and many more arose through Roedel’s 2015 struggle with his faith, his depression, and his son’s autism diagnosed in 2003.

To survive… to thrive… we try to navigate our own unique and uncharted journeys as we overcome obstacles. Life is challenging. Let us view one another with greater understanding and grant each other greater compassion. A grouchy person today might be stuck in a battle between their brain and heart.

Roedel wrote this poem while having a panic attack in a coffeehouse waiting to pick up his wife from work. Within the week, he writes, “I’ve received so many wonderful messages from lovely strangers… who have been impacted by what I wrote.”

"My brain and heart divorced a decade ago over who was to blame about how big of a mess I have become.

Eventually, they couldn't be in the same room with each other.

Now my head and heart share custody of me.

I stay with my brain during the week and my heart gets me on the weekends.

They never speak to one another, instead, they give me the same note to pass to each other every week.

Their notes they send to one another always say the same thing,

"This is all your fault.”

On Sundays, my heart complains about how my head has let me down in the past and, on Wednesday, my head lists all of the times my heart has screwed things up for me in the future.

They blame each other for the state of my life.

There's been a lot of yelling and crying so lately so I've been spending a lot of time with my gut, who serves as my unofficial therapist.

Most nights, I sneak out of the window in my ribcage and slide down my spine and collapse on my gut's plush leather chair that's always open for me.

And I just sit and sit and sit until the sun comes up.

Last evening, my gut asked me if I was having a hard time being caught between my heart and my head.

I nodded.

I said I didn't know if I could live with either of them anymore.

"My heart is always sad about something that happened yesterday while my head is always worried about something that may happen tomorrow," I lamented.

My gut squeezed my hand.

"I just can't live with my mistakes of the past and my anxiety about the future," I sighed.

My gut smiled and said, "In that case, you should go stay with your lungs for a while."

I was confused—the look on my face gave it away.

"If you are exhausted about your heart's obsession with the past and your mind's focus on the uncertain future, your lungs are the perfect place for you.

There is no yesterday in your lungs; there is no tomorrow there, either.

There is only now, there is only inhale, there is only exhale, there is only this moment, there is only breath.

And in that breath, you can rest while your heart and head work their relationship out.”

This morning, while my brain was busy reading tea leaves and while my heart was staring at old photographs, I packed a little bag and walked to the door of my lungs.

Before I could even knock she opened the door with a smile and, as a gust of air embraced me, she said, "What took you so long?”

By John Roedel

"Whenever you find yourself doubting how far you can go, just remember how far you have come. Remember everything you have faced, all the battles you won, and all the fears you have overcome." —N.R. Walker

(To listen to the author speaking this poem, please click here)