Here's How Writing Helps Me Fight Anxiety and Depression
Recently, I experienced the overwhelm of anxiety and a heavy sense that depression was creeping back into my life. But, thanks to writing, I feel more resourced and ready to keep things in check.
The sun’s out. The weather’s warm. My kids are safe. There’s food on the table. I love my job and I feel loved by others. And still, I’ve been fighting anxiety and depression.
The last time I felt this way, it actually made sense. Back then, my life was upside down with grief and loss. However, this time, my anxiety felt less logical, less obvious, less “ahhhhh, no WONDER I’m feeling so tense and blue.” Compared to last time, I’ve felt slightly less raw and vulnerable, yet intense irritability and self-judgment have been lurking right under the surface.
Yep. There it is. That overwhelming dread that I was headed for trouble, getting pulled under by feelings of inadequacy and exhaustion and inertia — a dread that only added to my existing level of anxiety. If you’ve ever felt anxiety, you know it’s a messed-up dynamic — both powerful and exhausting, and completely demoralizing.
The good news is, over the last several years, I’ve learned that when it comes to anxiety and depression, I have the power to break the cycle by breaking things down.
Breaking Things Down
So, what do I mean, breaking things down?
When I find a way to stand above myself and notice what’s happening in my brain, rather than let things keep swirling, well…my outlook changes. And to stand above myself, I first have to acknowledge when I’m in that constellation of weepiness, irritability, and withdrawl. Historically, this hasn’t been easy or natural for me.
In the past, it was much more convenient (and even natural) for me to dismiss weepiness, irritability, and withdrawal as responses to external forces. For example, I’d think, “I’m weepy because I wasn’t able to get a good night’s sleep,” or “I’m irritable because I haven’t eaten enough today,” or “I’m withdrawing because I’ve got so much work on my plate.”
What’s been less natural for me is looking inside and noticing the reasons why weepiness and irritability and withdrawal might be showing up.
So, why hasn’t that been natural for me? I honestly think three things were going on:
I used to have a tremendous fear of finding something painful or difficult to deal with (so I’d avoid looking inside).
I used to lack solid coping skills to tolerate and work through distress.
I used to default to self-criticism, rather than self-acceptance.
But, after spending a lot of time in therapy, I learned the importance of exploring my inner feelings, of strengthening my coping skills, and of accepting (and loving) myself for who I am. In therapy, I realized how much I’d been exhausting myself trying to pin my weepiness, irritability, and withdrawal on external forces. Once I learned to let down my guard and spend time with my inner feelings, that’s when my anxiety and my sense of powerlessness quieted down.
The Power of Self Interviewing
So, how exactly do I “step above myself” and notice what’s happening inside my brain? Quite simply, I interview myself. I start to ask myself questions like this:
• What’s triggering your feelings of overwhelm?
• What’s wrapping you in knots at night, leaving you exhausted yet unable to fall asleep?
• What’s tapping on your subconscious, pulling you from the slumber you finally fell into?
• What’s leaving you feeling empty and hungry, yet full of dread — scrolling endlessly through social media while holding your breath and blinking hard to moisten your dried-out eyeballs?
Inevitably, the answer to all these questions is anxiety, and I’ve learned that if I leave anxiety to fester without acknowledging it, it turns into depression.
Acknowledging All the Feelings
After years of therapy, I’ve learned that if I don’t put into words what’s happening inside, I tend to melt into myself, caught in a loop of self-loathing and negativity. For me, I do best when I write my feelings down.
Through time, I’ve learned to be wiser than anxiety, to stay ahead of the curve so I don’t get pulled under or driven ‘round the bend.
If I tell myself I’m wrong to feel the ways I feel, it turns into depression.
If I say, “You shouldn’t be feeling THIS down at THIS time in your life with all of THESE good things going on…” then I’m stuffing my feelings and invalidating my own reality —and God knows we’re up against plenty of algorithms and forces in society specifically designed to do this.
If I let my feelings get the best of me, it turns into depression.
If I compare my circumstances to others’ highlight reels or focus on their seeming lack of discomfort or struggle, it turns into depression. Telling myself I’m “better off than some” or “less bad off” than others does no good. My job, when I’m hurting, is not about directing my focus and energy toward others; it’s about making self-care a priority. And for me, my go-to self-care is writing.
If I berate myself — rather than explore — thoughts and feelings I experience, it turns into depression.
If I tell myself I have no valid reasons to be anxious, it turns into depression.
If I try peering into the future, only to worry that my troublesome feelings won’t ever go away, it turns into depression. I’ve come to see it’s far better to stay present, to name what’s happening, to claim ownership of what I can control — and let go of what I can’t.
My 3 Key Areas of Anxiety
When I’m swimming in the cesspool of anxiety, everything feels interrelated and nothing feels solvable. But when I break things down into categories — specifically Emotional, Physical, and Interpersonal — I gain some clarity and perspective. When I break things down, I begin to see what I can (and can’t) do to change my circumstances — and this feels empowering.
And so, so without editing, here’s my recent exploration of what’s been on my mind:
1. Emotional
I’ve been horrified and terrified after learning that nooses (yes, hand-made nooses, made of rope) were recently found hanging from trees between our local elementary and middle schools. Despite the evidence of white supremacists acting out everywhere in this country, I’ve been nevertheless in shock that a *neighbor* would even think to do such a thing. I’ve felt brokenhearted for the Black families in my town who are, time and again, subjected to acts of blatant racism and white supremacy. I’ve felt unnerved that this coward hasn’t yet been caught. I’ve felt disgusted that a person in my community holds beliefs so convincing that he or she felt that such an act was both acceptable and worthwhile. I’ve felt ashamed that I haven’t known where to begin to address this issue, and appalled at myself that I haven’t yet said a word on social media. Most of all, I’ve felt regret and shame that I haven’t said or done something sooner. The truth is, I’ve been scared — and if I’ve been this scared and paralyzed by such clear and directed hatred, I can’t even imagine how devastating it must feel to be Black in my community, to be Black in America, to be Black wherever a hint of racism exists. Try as I might, I can’t begin to imagine how angry, exhausted, and disappointed Black citizens have become with those of us who have the *luxury* of stepping back (as I have) and *taking a beat* to process this hate crime, this terrorization of our community. I’m ashamed that I haven’t been able to wrap my head around the lasting trauma this act will leave on our community for generations to come. And I’m shocked by how hard I’ve fought to keep my anger about this *in check*, rather than writing exactly what I feel — that I hope the sad sack of shit who did this gets caught and gets their ass handed to them and gets spotlighted as a national and highly publicized example of what a pathetic and cowardly white supremecist looks like and, finally, gets a white-hot reckoning with the law, with the community, and with their own conscience. I’m sorry I haven’t spoken up sooner. I must do better. I want to do better.
2. Physical
Four months after testing positive for Covid, I’m still managing lingering Covid symptoms, including low energy, brain fog, and vertigo. I’ve also been struggling with an eye condition that leaves my vision blurry and untrustworthy. As a writer, my most useful tools are my brain, my heart, my hands, and my eyes. Whatever’s going on with my body is stressing me out.
3. Interpersonal
In the last two months, thanks to a DNA home kit, I discovered a half-sister I didn’t know existed. And while I feel indescribable joy and gratitude for this connection, it’s been a deeply jarring, surreal, and (at times) triggering experience. My “found” sister and I — in a very short amount of time — have made it clear we are both open to learning about each other and making up for lost time, and I wake every day thinking about my unexpected sibling. I already feel so much love and growth and opportunity in our relationship, yet I’ve also felt a ton of upheaval and a great deal of grief over having just learned of this sibling after 54 years since she’s someone with whom I never got to know as a child or introduce to our late sister. I’m learning how to speak of this new and unfamiliar relationship, and I’m spending quite a bit of mental energy reconsidering (and reconfiguring) my life-long identity as the “oldest” sibling. It’s a lot to process, and there’s no roadmap (yet) for such genealogical discoveries.
Okay. So, after writing out some of these feelings, I immediately began feeling a sense of agency over my anxiety.
And, there were some immediate steps I realized I could take to address those intense issues running through my anxious mind. In the same order as the points above, I realized that…
1. …I could write about and share my feelings about the nooses (and I’ve already done this). By doing so, I knew that may not solve the problem (and may even upset others by chiming in so late), but I’d also be starting a new discussion that (who knows?) might inspire thoughtful action — even if the only action taken is my own.
2. …I could make an appointment and speak to a doctor about my physical challenges (and I’ve already done this, too).
3. …I could slow down and take this new sibling discovery dynamic one intentional day at a time. And, though there’s a part of me that aches to make up for lost time, I realized that I could try to focus on gratitude, reminding myself what a gift it’s been to find someone just as willing as me to step into such an unbelievable relationship.
Naming the issues in my anxious brain didn’t make my challenges go away, but it helped me take back a sense of control when my spinning mind whipped things into a chaotic frenzy.
Naming the issues in my anxious mind was a healthy start to owning and untangling my feelings. I still have plenty of actions to take, and Lord knows some of it will be hard. But, when I get to a place where I’m focused on problem-solving rather than worrying, I breathe deeper, feel less empty, and lean more squarely toward solutions versus stress.
How do you (or someone you know) manage anxiety and depression? How does it feel when your world seems out of control? What have you done that hasn’t worked? What do you intend to do the next time things feel overwhelming?
I appreciate your honesty and transparency in writing about your anxiety and depression.
what you describe under 1) Emotional - I completely get. This has been a life-long struggle for me. In general, it is just all the injustices and wrongs. All the animals tortured in labs. Women raped and killed in other countries, in our own country. Indigenous persons slaughtered and cheated, taken as children, cut off from family and tradition, left in mass graves. Mother Earth and the environment. The list goes on and on. I can feel all of it, like a vibration that runs through me. I learned decades ago that I cannot watch violence on TV or in movies and I have to be careful of what I read and what I allow others to tell me. I have been an advocate and an activist since I was 13. And time and time again, I have had to relearn how to protect myself, shield myself with energy. I can only take things in small doses. Respond with one small act at a time. Otherwise, I'm down for the count, in bed indefinitely, listless, sad, drowning in existential angst.
Writing about it is actually something I can't do - interestingly enough. I believe so strongly in writing as therapy and have always advised others to use this tool. For me, however, too often writing keeps me trapped in the topic that causes me frustration and anger. To properly form the argument I want to make takes time. Instead, I opt for quicker solutions. I call my senators, I educate a friend, perform a random act of kindness.
There's never one easy pill - literally or metaphorically. Staying in a good place requires constant diligence, always adjusting according to the situation.
And finally, I'm reminded of the famous Joe Cocker song, "We get by with a little help from our friends"
xo