There ain’t nothing you can do with an umbrella and a rain jacket to protect your bottom half against a horizontal downpour on your 5 block walk home from work. Your pencil skirt will be drenched.
There ain’t nothing you can say but yes when your law firm partner who is visiting from out of town asks you to join him for lunch with one of the firm’s most important clients just one hour before you are set to have lunch with your sister. He does not care that she is also visiting from out of town.
There ain’t nothing you can do but smile your way through agonizing small talk after said partner is 30 minutes late to the lunch he invited you to but which the client was unaware you would actually be attending. It does not matter that you do not practice this area of the law.
There ain’t nothing you can do but say you’re trying when your boss jokes that your next adventure should be to follow in the footsteps of your fellow teammates and get engaged. He claims online dating worked for his sisters even if it hasn’t for you.
Sometimes life throws us curves we can’t do nothing about. We get drenched, disappointed, heart-broken, depressed and, if you’re like me, stressed with so much anxiety that your chest burns, you have trouble breathing, and you run to the break room as fast as you can to get your next fix of sugar and caffeine hoping that will somehow calm you down.
The other day as I found myself searching the internet for a new job and realizing that there is no such thing as a stress-free job no matter how hard I look (dang it!), I knew I needed to find a different solution to help me make it through my days. And then I remembered my last job. It was equally stressful, if not more, albeit in very different ways. And yet, somehow, I didn’t find myself cringing every weekend for just one more day like I was now. So what was the difference?
I wrote more. That was it. I’m not kidding. My last job offered no small shortage of stories to tell and I told them. Because I told them, I could laugh about them. They didn’t sit buried in the shadows of my mind to fester and taunt me. I got them out in the open and I pointed right at them. Shared them no less. This is the difference. I know because in the past 5 days I’ve slowly felt a return of my pre-4 p.m. call self. All because I’ve written on each one of those 5 days.
Try it for yourself and see what happens. See if I’m making it up.
Not only does writing help me cope, heal, and detox, writing makes me happier. I become more observant of the world around me. I see the good, the bad, and the downright ugly, but as I write I begin to think – I could use this in a story. Which is really my story. And when I write my life like a story, all of a sudden it becomes so much more interesting. Which then makes me so grateful I get to live this interesting story!
So when the rains come down and the partners call and prince charming seems eternally detained, you can find me writing. Writing through the downpour. Writing for my sanity. Writing to smile through this crazy stressful story called life.
How does writing help you?