Make Writing Your Therapy
Heal yourself with vent poetry
In my deepest moments of grief this year, I have been unable to paint or draw, my previous go-to activity for the peaceful sensation of flow. I often find myself frozen, drowning in an abyss of sadness.
The only thing I have been able to do is to write.
Inspired by The Poetry Marathon which I participated in this June, I began writing, as many as 5–10 poems a day. Mostly in free verse arranged neatly in narrow columns of stanzas, the alignment peaceful for my frazzled mind.
I wrote and I wrote.
I wrote about my day, about quiet things, like what happened to my plants, what I made for lunch, memories that were good, memories that were bad, poems about my cat, and about my dying dad.
Once I began, there was no stopping the flow of emotions and thoughts to poems. My pain and anger poured out onto paper. The vent poems had begun.
It was cathartic seeing them written down. It was like a part of me, a fragment of the agonizing part, removed and glued down onto another medium.
More poems flowed from me, an energy transfer from body to body.
The more I wrote, the less pain I felt.
Writing it down helped my brain process it, think about it, file it away to lesson learned, pain begone.
You will feel numb from the void so fill it up with beauty and joy: the image of that tree outside your window imprinted in your mind, a persistent weed growing out of concrete, your cat’s look of pure love and adoration, your child’s smile and embrace.
The Joys of Living with a Cat
Cats have always been an unwavering source of comfort and love, especially during these tumultuous times
You may choose to prepare the poems for publication or leave them be in a box or in a folder to revisit at another time.
As for me, many of my vent poems will never see the light of day. Some are too raw, others too personal. Either way, they healed me, mended a part of me that needed salve and care.
When you’re tempted to stop, don’t.
Keep at it. Keep at it till your pain is well and truly gone, and the empty void is filled with better things.
You will know when this is because your poems will be of these things. Of your beautiful and better things.