Writing Through the Storm

getting through difficult times with words

C is home from the hospital. We had anticipated, after a middle-of-the-night MRI, that he might need a second surgery, but the surgeons ended up deciding that he could go home. For this, I was tremendously grateful: hospitals have their pros and cons, but being restless and weary in a hospital room from 8 AM to 8 PM is a bit of a con. And I was glad to hear to C was doing well enough to go home—we are two disabled people hobbling around our flat, but we are happy to be home, and Daphne is happy to have us home. If only I have them, I think to myself, I cannot have many complaints. If I have our little pack, I will feel at home.

I’ve been restless in other ways. I’ve come up with a follow-up book for Rawness of Remembering, the print book I’ve created for readers to learn about restorative journaling through difficult times. I wrote Rawness of Remembering’s materials originally in 2014, and approximately a decade later, it might be time for an update.

And so I am making this: Writing Through the Storm: Yet More Ways to Journal Through Difficult Times. It will start out as an e-book, and if people are interested in having a print copy, I’ll make that available eventually as well. I kept thinking about Taylor Swift saying that making things is what keeps her going when times are hard. Keep making things, is the advice she gives younger pop stars who are facing their first major backlash. The line I recall most from Miss Americana, the documentary about Taylor filmed in the era in which she wrote Reputation and Lover, is: “I can’t control what happens to me, but I can control what I write.”

That’s stuck with me for ages—as a writer, it speaks to a piece deep in my spirit. I can write through the storm; I can write through the story. And so can you. Pre-order the book now and you’ll have it delivered to you this spring, along with a bonus audiobook and worksheet of journal prompts. You can pre-order it right over here.

Other things I’m making. Food, although I am a terrible cook; I just find cooking immensely boring. The DoorDash gift cards people have so kindly sent are helpful for mealtime when both C and I are too ill to cook. Standing at the kitchen counter is, for me at times, such an effort that I can’t imagine chopping the potatoes or whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing. Last night I made a stir fry of ground turkey and broccoli; it was havoc. I’m also working on my novel, which is fun and mysterious and a real beast of a project. I am exploring different ways of journaling and beginning to use rubber stamps again instead of buying far too many stickers.

The world goes by. There are terrible harms perpetrated in the DRC. Israel continues to attack Gaza with the help of American arms—we protest and call senators and send eSIMs, but it feels like trying to plug a sinking ship with only our fingers. There’s some kind of ridiculous controversy about Kate Middleton that I only have bits and pieces of—something about how there’s a very poorly Photoshopped image of her and her family, made up of fifty different images. Her waist is not properly connected to her torso. People think that she’s dead, or that her surgery was much more complex and terrible than had been originally thought, or that she’s in hiding because William is a jerk and probably cheating on her. The presidential election is in full swing: I receive so many text messages now that I almost regret having volunteered to text bank in the past. And as these things surge on, the news running a gamut from extremely tragic to extremely frivolous, we go on, and many of us go on by writing.

Thankfully, spring is upon us. We awake to the sound of birds twittering outside, gorging themselves on the birdseed we provide them: house finches, juncos, and white-crowned sparrows tend to be the types we see. I am still waiting to see a robin or a crocus, which are, in my opinion, the true signs of spring. We’ll bloom and sprout. There will be newness, the world promises. You’re okay. We’ll come out of our torpor, and we’ll find the sun. ❤️

Journal Prompt

I hadn’t realized that I did this so much before I read about how people with complex PTSD use it as a coping strategy, but I tend to engage in a great deal of comforting self-talk when I’m in a tough spot. I have pet names that I call myself. I encourage myself. Whether you regularly do this or not, consider writing an encouraging letter to yourself. What do you need encouragement with right now? How could you best encourage yourself? Consider using or creating pet names for yourself. No one has to see this; it’s just for you. ❤️

Downloadable Wallpaper

Download here. ❤️

Note

Due to the medical chaos of March, we’ll be forgoing the Fireside Chat for this month. And—did you want to pre-order Writing Through the Storm: Yet More Ways to Journal Through Difficult Times? ❤️