Curbing Our Anxiety: Feeling, Writing, and Healing

by Helen Calder

When it comes to poignant quotations, we’re all a little bit prone to getting caught up in a temporarily enamored state of revelation. Let’s face it, we’re suckers for profound and pithy statements, otherwise the print industry wouldn’t profit from the mass production of motivational posters. That isn’t a bad thing, of course. Sometimes a simple phrase can be a huge turning point, particularly when read at the right moment in the right context. Most are more powerful when read as a climactic resolution in a dramatic work, but other quotes – ones that seemingly appear out of the silence – can be strikingly beautiful as well.

A New Course of Action

Robert Frost Quote

One such quote hit me the other day. I was perusing one of my favorite go-to sources of inspiration on the web when I came across this gem, written by Debbie Millman in her work Look Both Ways: Illustrated Essays on the Intersection of Life and Design:

“The grand scheme of a life, maybe (just maybe), is not about knowing or not knowing, choosing or not choosing. Perhaps what is truly known can’t be described or articulated by creativity or logic, science or art — but perhaps it can be described by the most authentic and meaningful combination of the two: poetry: As Robert Frost wrote, a poem ‘begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It is never a thought to begin with.’

I recommend the following course of action for those who are just beginning their careers or for those like me, who may be reconfiguring midway through: heed the words of Robert Frost. Start with a big, fat lump in your throat, start with a profound sense of wrong, a deep homesickness, or a crazy lovesickness, and run with it.”

Millman, Frost, and countless other writers have more or less said the same thing. But what captured my imagination about this statement was the personal resonance which echoed within me. That’s the funny thing about reading and writing – it is perhaps one of the greatest unifiers of millions, even billions of lives, connecting all of us universally while it takes on its own intimate meaning within our individual hearts and minds. And perhaps for the first time in a long time, I felt understood.

Harnessing Our Thoughts

Sometimes, when we make a change in our lives and it doesn’t work out the way we expected, we feel a lot of pressure to “learn” from our mistakes and to have a “positive” stance on this. I am fortunate in the sense that despite being a habitually gloomy over-thinker, I have no regrets about the difficult experiences I have gone through since leaving my beloved home to discover new shores. Yet looking on the bright side isn’t always simple – and when struggling with our own inner demons, especially when it comes to depression and anxiety – can be a challenge. I’m not going to disclaim the power of positivity, because I truly do believe that when we are able to empower ourselves with strong, forward thinking that we can achieve great feats emotionally, but at the same time, we face the pressure of letting ourselves down when we don’t achieve that feat.

Running with our strugglesMillman’s quote, inspired by that ever-thoughtful sage Frost, let me know that this is ok. In fact, running with our struggles, our pain, our emotions can be a good thing. Homesickness, even loss, is not something we get over, nor is anxiety. It’s something we can possibly heal from at the best of times, but for the most part the passing of time will slightly dull the ache. It doesn’t always work to try and forget. I used to think that I could become too over-involved in my thoughts, that writing would only immerse myself in my brooding too deeply, which is certainly a valid concern – yet more often than not, it can be a catharsis, a revelatory moment where we suddenly understand and accept what our struggles mean to us, helping us to move forward. We are no longer ignoring or pretending, but saying “yes, this is what I am going through, this is a part of me, and I am giving it a voice for this amount of time.”

We have seen many writers cope in similar ways, and in a sense they were well ahead of their time in terms of voicing taboo subjects, be it slightly veiled by metaphor at moments. Things like grief, anxiety and addiction continue to conjure up negative associations in our society, despite popular culture’s infatuation with some aspects of them. We have also seen writers revel in their narcosis, producing brilliant works both in the cusp of depression’s grasp amidst psychedelic dreamlands, becoming entangled with the balance of restraint in order to empty the creative vessel; Leonard Cohen in particular comes to mind here, and we have many other poets and thinkers who have struggled immensely – from Woolf to Plath – to overcome their own inner demons through their work.

Acknowledge, Experience, Heal

My own thoughts on writing and healing are this: our pain is who we are, although we don’t have to let it define our entire identity. Sometimes that old writer’s block comes from trying too hard to move past the things which need to be dealt with. So I say, burn those old roots, but take those fallen acorns, plant them, let them struggle, let them grow, and ultimately, find the beauty in them where great trees flourish. It isn’t the panacea, but sometimes it can be the coping mechanism we need or something greater to get us through our dark days, to give us a taste of an art which elevates us from this strange earth from time to time.

Art Which Elevates Us QuoteHelen Calder is someone who has battled anxiety and depression all her adult life. When she had to give up her career in the health sector a few years back she turned to writing as a way of (trying) to make a bit of a living. She now pens articles on health, wellbeing and creativity for a number of different sites.

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7 responses to “Curbing Our Anxiety: Feeling, Writing, and Healing”

  1. This is so thought provoking!! I think I do get more creative when dealing with emotional mass. Recently, my cousin died and going through the grief of it presented three book ideas to help others.

    • Ingrid Sundberg says:

      I’m sorry to hear about your cousin, Traci. As you heal, I hope your work brings love and understanding to others.

  2. Ellar Cooper says:

    Oh, this makes me think of the Robert Bly quote: “Where a man’s wound is, that is where his genius will be.”

  3. Art Rosch says:

    Or, as Jung said, “The Gods are in our pathologies.” This is a good honest essay. The best test of an idea is its usefulness. This piece is certainly useful to me. Thanks.

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