When I was growing up I wrote a lot of bad poetry. It was my way of dealing with all the drama of home, including a terminally ill father. After he died I wrote even more. It’s not publishable, I suspect, but it did what it needed to do which is help me get through an emotionally traumatic time in my life.
My dad wrote a lot of poetry as well. I had at one point thought I’d publish it and share it with the world but having looked at it recently I realize that it was cathartic for him and is emotionally resonant for me because I knew him, but…I won’t be publishing it anytime soon. It doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have written it, though.
He needed that outlet, just like I did.
I suspect this next year will be rough for many of us. If you find yourself lost, adrift, unable to articulate the angst or trauma or fear you’re feeling, grab a pen, grab some paper and write. Poems, stories, journal entries, whatever lets you get a handle on things and keep going.
It doesn’t have to be pretty. Or artful. Or even good. Burn it after if you want. Tear it into little teeny tiny shreds if it helps. But for many of us (especially the types that would find their way to a writer’s blog), writing will help get you through.
And if you’re not that type then get out there and run or box or lift weights or hike alone in nature. Or find the best damn book you can and get lost in it. Or a movie or a t.v. show you can binge watch. Whatever keeps you going and lets you disconnect for a couple hours.