Writing When You’re Overwhelmed (Part 2)

Last week, I addressed how the writing process can feel wildly overwhelming at times. We explored strategies to help us when we’re riding the authorial struggle bus, including celebrating our little wins, framing our self-talk, and taking breaks.

This week, I’d like to point out that writing isn’t always the mountain in front of us; sometimes, it’s the walking stick. (Or the CamelBak, the trail mix, the GripOns… Basically, whatever gives you the oomf you need to not give up and cry when you’re halfway up the trail.) Let’s look at some ways that writing helps us hang onto our sanity when life just feels like a bit much.

Writing as an Outlet

Listen, I am VERY familiar with how it feels to have angsty thoughts swirling around your head and heart like one of those toilet bowls that gets stuck on the flush setting and is left eddying endlessly into the sewer. In the past, I’ve been afraid to write those darker thoughts down because I felt like it would make them more powerful, more corporeal somehow. Strangely, I think the opposite has been true—at least since maturing out of my teenage years. (I think my problem as a teenager was that I hadn’t yet learned to wrestle with the negative thoughts; I just let them consume me and even after I wrote them down, I would re-read them over and over. Now, I find that writing them down gives me permission to stop obsessing over them so much, which has been key.)

Giving difficult thoughts and emotions space on the page frees up the space they were occupying in my head and offers me a bit of breathing room. Not only that, but striking a spark of creativity in the midst of the doom and gloom gives me hope that perhaps something beautiful could come out of the struggle.

Recently, I went back and read the 13-page poem that I wrote during a season of depression. Here is a brief excerpt:

It’s this silky voice in my mind

and I know it’s there

I know it’s not right

but I let it whisper

because it’s easy.

because there is part of me that wants to hear what it has to say.

Do I want to be a victim?

When I wrote that poem, I was at my wit’s end (as demonstrated by my utter disregard for proper grammar conventions). I desperately needed an outlet for the negative emotions that were building up inside me. By writing them down, I was able to recognize some of the deeper questions that were lurking beneath those emotions, questions such as Do I want to be a victim? It was moving for me to re-read those pages once I was in a better headspace because I was able to see the seeds of truth and beauty that were sprouting up around the weeds. Honesty is a deeply healing thing. Sometimes, it’s extremely difficult to be honest with other people, or even—and maybe most especially—with ourselves. But when you write, you may find that honesty just sort of happens. You might surprise yourself with the questions or ideas that come out when you are putting words to your more difficult thoughts and emotions.

Writing as a Way to Process

I’ve never been big on journaling. I love the idea of it, but I’m always bored by the reality. Generally, I’m usually more interested in fictional worlds that the real one. That being said, I do believe that when our personal experiences become overwhelming, writing them down can be a powerful tool to help us process them. Poetry can be particularly helpful in this regard, but there are many types of writing that could work: letters, journals, even fictional stories. Fiction is my personal go-to when I’m really trying to work something out. I have used my fictional characters to process my hopeless bewilderment after watching something bad happen to a loved one, to fight through my struggle to avoid drinking when I was depressed, and—I’m being genuine here—to grapple with the meaning of life. In all of these instances, writing has helped me come to a place of greater wholeness and healing.

I am the type of writer who—so far anyway—seems to process life’s truths best through fiction. If I can separate myself from whatever I’m struggling with and instead write about a character who is struggling with the same thing, I find I am able to get to a deeper plane of understanding. For me, there’s something refreshing about exploring the problem in a different context. This may not work for everyone. You might process best by journaling or writing poetry. Maybe you’re a songwriter. Maybe you try a screenplay. Whatever your thing, I believe that writing in some way can be hugely beneficial for anyone trying to work through the ups and downs of life. Something about the act of creating (i.e. putting words on a page) opens the gate for new understanding to flow. It’s not enough simply to read a book about whatever you happen to be working through. You have to write.

Writing as Forced Thoughtfulness

Trampolining off of the last point, let’s look at how writing takes time. Even since starting this blog post, I’m very aware of the fact that it is taking me a significant amount of time to come up with ideas and string them together in a reasonable way. Writing forces you to slow down. In a world that seems to be running on hyper speed, we should be cherishing anything that compels us to stop for a hot second and take a breath. When we are overwhelmed by circumstances or emotions (fear, anxiety, shame, bitterness, go ahead and fill in the blank), it’s easier just to bury them beneath some form of dopamine-inducing stimulation (social media, Netflix, spiraling thought patterns of doom, again fill in the blank). The thing about writing is that it forces you to focus your attention on something. The added bonus is that if you’re taking the time to write about it, chances are that “something” you’re focusing on is actually important.

I love this quote by Charles Spurgeon: “Quietude, which some men cannot abide because it reveals their inmost poverty, is as a palace of cedar to the wise, for along its hallowed courts the King in his beauty deigns to walk.”

There are some things in life that should not be shoved under the rug. Writing slows us down long enough to look those things in the eye. It breaks tidal waves into droplets, which we can then study—even admire—one at a time, drop by drop.

A Distraction

In apparent disregard for my previous point, I do think that a little distraction from the woes of life can be a good thing. Sometimes, we just need something to get us out of our own heads. A walk, a good TV show, a spontaneous dance party—a lot of things can do the trick. Writing, while it can absolutely help us to work through those heavy-handed questions that crop up, can also be a form of escape. I wrote an entire book in the three months after I lost my job during the Covid-19 pandemic (although to be fair, I think I’d actually written the first two chapters over Christmas break a few months prior). It had absolutely nothing to do with viruses or lockdowns, although in retrospect, I suppose isolation was a theme. It did, however, bring me tremendous joy during an unprecedented time.

Likewise, during a recent season of depression, it was a huge comfort to be able to get up every morning before work and lose myself in storytelling for an hour or so. None of my characters were battling depression. Granted, they were dealing with a host of other problems, but it was honestly a relief to take on those problems instead of my own. A home invasion? Yes, please! A violent arsonist turned kidnapper? Sign me up! At least I was growing my empathy by getting out of my own head and thinking about experiences outside of my own. At least I was being creative and finding joy. There are plenty of unhealthy distractions that the world has to offer; writing isn’t typically one of them.

A Statement

When circumstances get overwhelming—which they will, sooner or later, for everyone—writing gives you this marvelous measure of control, despite the surrounding chaos. You may not get a say in what’s happening to you, but you darn well get a say in who you will be in the midst of it all. What will you ponder? What will you pursue? What will you believe? Writing gives you space to assert yourself, to say something about the world—something that matters. It is full of grace. It lets you get it wrong sometimes, lets you wrestle things through. It lets you come to conclusions in your own time and in your own way.

At the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter how you write, whether it’s through poetry or prose, fiction or nonfiction, novel or short story.

Just write.