Stay Awake – A poem for those feeling big emotions

Inner voice painting

Last Friday I shared the most raw blog post I’ve ever published. I live alone and I had the realization that I hadn’t touched another living thing in two weeks and it would probably be several more weeks before I did touch another person.

I felt deeply for a few hours. And then I wrote about it. And the next morning I shared that blog here and on Facebook, Instagram, and LinkedIn.

It was one of the most freeing and healing experiences I’ve ever had.

People popped up from all over the place saying the felt the same way I did and that they were touched by my story. And so many people offered to connect – it was amazing.

It’s also already the second most read post I’ve ever shared – and it’s only been out there for eight days.

Publishing that story of sadness and grief showed me that we can share hard feelings with people. You don’t have to be grateful and happy all the time – even if you are a grateful and happy person!

Right now, with so many ups and downs and uncertainties, it is so important to slow down and give yourself space to feel whatever it is you’re feeling. You don’t have to deny your emotions.

On Sunday I wrote a poem about diving into your feelings that I want to share with you today. I call it “Stay Awake.”

When you feel a crack inside of your soul,
Slow down, pry it open, dive into the hole.
Sink, swallow, and let your truth thrive,
This is where you are most alive.
Shed the layers that kept you from hearing your heart,
Take a moment and listen to your whole in the parts.
Find freedom in allowing your feelings to flow,
Nothing held back, you can let it all show.
Stay awake for the wonder, the chaos, the pain,
Stay awake for it all, let go of the shame.
See the light shining from deep in your soul,
Nothing to fix, you were already whole.
So when the going gets tough, let tough be your guide.
Dive into you’re your depths, that’s where magic resides.

The cracks in your soul are an invitation to slow down and feel. You are most alive when you allow your feelings to flow through you – sadness, anger, joy, wonder, and everything in between. This is where your magic resides 🙂

Embracing Writer’s Block

Magnetic Poetry

“Often, in this poetry, we steal words, gather kindling, twist newspaper, circle rocks, and wait for the flame.” Sherman Alexie

I laid on my bed, journal open to a blank page, pen in my hand, ready to write. I waited for the words I knew were inside of me to come out. Nothing happened. Like Sherman Alexie in the quote above, I gathered kindling and twisted newspaper, but still, no flame. After several minutes of frustration staring at the empty page, I realized that this inability to find the words was the flame. The dizzying lexicon bouncing around in my mind was the sentiment to capture. I embraced the feeling and this little poem emerged.

Words fumbling,

Knocking against one another,

Never finding each other long enough,

To build a sentence.

The story is swirling,

Searching for structure,

In the dizzying lexicon.

Instead of fighting the frustration, I needed to embrace my thoughts and emotions with curiosity and create from what I felt inside. Expression came with little effort once my mindset shifted. The flame burned with ease. This is often the case. And if that doesn’t work, I close the journal, go to sleep, and try again tomorrow 🙂


Heather Whelpley is a coach working with people that want to have a meaningful career and live up to their own potential, but feel stuck in their job. See her home page to learn more. She is also the host of Destination Soul Shine, a community dedicated to nourishing your soul and making your spirit shine. Like Destination Soul Shine on Facebook or follow us on Instagram @destinationsoulshine for resources to inspire you to live a meaningful, healthy, creative life. 

The Punky Brewster Generation

Punky Brewster costume

To celebrate my thirty-fifth birthday I held a throwback party. Everyone was instructed to come dressed as a favorite character from childhood. An array of notable fictional figures from the Eighties showed up – Magnum PI, Maverick, the Hamburglur, Karate Kid, Mr. Rogers – even a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.

Me? I was Punky Brewster. There was no question that she was my favorite. She was everything I wanted to be at six years old – quirky, outspoken, optimistic, creative, funny, and downright colorful. Her mismatched socks and sunshine hair binders spoke to me. She didn’t want to be a ballerina or a princess when she grew up; her goal was to be an astronaut. In the wake of the Challenger explosion, my clearest memories are not of the disaster itself, but the dismay that Punky felt when the shuttle fell. Punky gave permission to a generation of young girls to look, act, and want to be different.

A 26-year-old co-worker asked me about my birthday party the following week. I enthusiastically told her that I had been Punky Brewster. I received a blank stare in return. “You do know who Punky Brewster is, right?”

“I mean, I’ve heard of her, but I don’t really know who she is.”

I was surprised, shocked, appalled! I had assumed that Punky Brewster was an enduring cultural image, like The Brady Bunch. Everyone knows Marcia, Jan, and Cindy no matter when they were born. But I was wrong. Only the class of kids edged between Gen X and Gen Y, cuspers born in the late 70’s and early 80’s, identifies with Punky. For our mini-generation, Full House, My Two Dads, and the rest of the TGIF line-up consumed Friday nights. Saturday mornings meant The Muppet Babies, Pee-Wee’s Playhouse, Small Wonder, and Saved by the Bell (starring my first celebrity crush, Mark-Paul Gosselaar, aka Zach Morris). We watched The Real World on MTV before reality TV officially existed. We were influenced by a very specific set of television characters throughout our youth. And it all started when Punky Brewster debuted in 1985.

The Wonder Years premiered January 1988; four months before Punky took her final bow. It may have been set in the Sixties, but the emotions and awkward adolescent moments of Kevin, Paul, and Winnie were universal. My heart exploded at the end of the first episode when Kevin and Winnie kissed for the first time on a rock in the woods. Was it creepy that this moment came right after Winnie found out that her brother had been killed in Vietnam? Not in my eight-year-old mind. I wanted to be Winnie Cooper sitting on that rock, a pre-teen Kevin Arnold longing after me.

The Wonder Years continued for many seasons, but after a few years of will-they-or-won’t they between Kevin and Winnie, I grew bored and progressed to more exciting television. My Mom decided that Beverly Hills 90210 was too mature for my 12-year-old eyes, but in my greatest act of defiance to date, I watched it every week on the black and white television in my room. I saved my weekly allowance and meager babysitting earning for months to purchase that television. Knowing I was breaking the rules, I would close the door and turn down the volume to a practically inaudible level so that I wouldn’t make my mom suspicious. Week after week I listened to the extreme drama of Brenda, Dylan, and Kelly as they navigated sex, school, and diet pills. Despite my addiction to this soap opera, I viewed the characters from afar. The chaotic lives of rich teenagers in southern California never made the emotional dent of other shows.

That would come in ninth grade with My So-Called Life. The same girls that idolized Punky Brewster sat down every week to empathize with Angela Chase as she fell for Jordan Catalano. When he finally decided to date Angela halfway through the first and only season, Jordan fulfilled the dreams of freshman girls across the nation. It was suddenly possible that the hot, creative, cool guy could notice me! How much time did I waste in high school waiting for that fantasy to come true?

We seared with agony when Angela’s best friend Rayanne slept with Jordan after Angela decided she wasn’t ready to have sex. I felt Angela’s pain so completely that I wrote a poem about the betrayal and turned it in for an English assignment! (See below for that stellar piece of work.)

Despite its short tenure, My So-Called Life defined early high school for me. I even have a magazine clipping at the front of my photo album from these years that says “My So-Called Life. You Know How It Feels.” And I did know how it felt. We all did.

My So-Called Life

A few years later we took sides between Dawson and Pacey in the WB classic, Dawson’s Creek. There was no Team Dawson or Team Pacey, but everyone had a clear opinion on who should end up with Joey, the tomboy next door. Who can forget when Dawson ran around Capeside in a desperate search for Joey when he finally realized that he had feelings for his best friend? We all had a Dawson in our life that we were waiting to make that same realization. I watched Dawson’s Creek religiously for years. I would even record it on my VCR in the dorm so that my roommates and I could watch it together after we finished studying.

Then we became real adults. The cusper girls were no longer a target demographic for advertisers and we lost the shows and characters that defined our early years. We would soon fit into the sect of early to middle age women that watched Grey’s Anatomy. And while I watched that show with enthusiasm for many years, it will never be a part of who I am. That will be left to Winnie Cooper. And Angela Chase. And especially Punky Brewster.


Betrayal (written in 1995 after an episode of My So-Called Life)

Sometimes she does things

That nearly bring you to an end

She tears at all your insides

But she was supposed to be your friend


She didn’t know she’d hurt you,

She saw only her own pain,

Even with your tearful expression,

She thought only of her disdain.


For a while you’ll live in silence,

Only understanding your own brain

She’ll never think twice about you

So you’ll live with your thoughts and pain


But then one day she finally knows

What she has done to you

Now it’s her turn to live in the tears and pain

That she has put you through


One day you’ll get the courage

To ask for the truth through her lie

You’ll stare her in the face and ask

Why did you do it, why?

Hold On

Cape Tribulation, Australia


Hold on to what is still inside of me

The breathing in and out, the beating of my heart

Those constants that are always near


Grasp on to what is moving in the world

The whirling seconds, the leapfrogging moments,

Those variables always at my fingertips


Hold on to what is still in the world

The reflecting sun, the strumming guitar

Those outer comforts instilling peace


Grasp on to what is moving inside of me

The turning of my mind, the chaos of my heart

Those gears unlocking piece by piece


I wrote this poem on a flight home to Minneapolis after visiting friends in Seattle. Five days prior I had left the company where I had been working for eight years. I would be starting my new job in twelve hours. In that moment it felt like everything was simultaneously moving and standing still. The airplane was flying at 600 mph, yet it was so smooth I couldn’t feel any movement. My new work world was a complete unknown, but I felt solid in the decision to leave my previous company and do something different. Isn’t all of life like this?  The balance of moving forward while remaining grounded, seeking change and maintaining stability, pursuing growth and pausing to rest.

The photo was taken on a beach at Cape Tribulation in Queensland, Australia.