Writing during a global pandemic
If you’ll recall from my blog post last week, I recounted the act of not writing, and the ways in which that was helpful for me in overcoming rejection. This week, I’ve written four poems and started reading a new book, and I’ve found my emotions to be on the up-and-up. The question is then - should you force yourself to write when you don’t want to, especially right now, in the time of coronavirus?
“Right in the difficult we must have our joys, our happiness, our dreams: there against the depth of this background, they stand out, there for the first time we see how beautiful they are.”
My therapist would say yes…and no. Yes in that writing makes me happy. Writing makes me feel powerful and accomplished and sure of myself in a way that very little else does. But no in that I am tired and we are all experiencing a different kind of fatigue born from uncertain times that can make even the simplest task feel impossible. And for the record, writing isn’t even a “simple task.”
I’ve also seen a lot of posts on Facebook and Instagram about not forcing yourself to be creative during this time, and I agree with this sentiment a lot. We shouldn’t feel guilty for feeling right now, feeling anything at all. Some people can and want to crank out a new book or make a new art project or try out dozens of new recipes, but some of us are okay with mindlessly scrolling or eating PB&Js every day. And that’s okay. It may not feel okay, and you may not be able to convince yourself that it is, but it is.
Regardless of that, not doing anything makes me feel bad. But the act of writing can sometimes sound daunting so my therapist recommended having two or three back-up options in case writing sounded like too much. So I’ve started reading a new book (Clap When You Land by Elizabeth Acevedo), or when that feels like too much, playing games on my phone. Writing is still my go-to, and it’s been working well for me - this week. But, as far as I can tell, we have a lot of weeks left, and it’s important to me that I don’t feel guilty when I inevitably hit a rough patch again - and to have those back-up options.
Like I said, though, this week was good, and I wrote four new poems. I’m sharing one I’m particularly proud of below. The prompt I chose to write from was “every line or stanza about people you have met but lost contact with over the years.”
To my childhood sweetheart: I should have kissed you
Back in kindergarten, and I should have
Waited in your front yard, but we ran
In circles, and you didn’t understand
The way I was afraid to talk to
My parents, the way you did,
The way you always did, and I should have
Kissed you.
To every friend I had in high school and college:
I’m sorry I drop off like ledges, like I’m a line
Of sight, of desert sand in the morning but
Especially at night, like snowstorms on dunes,
Which is to say, I’m sorry I disappear whenever
You come around. I never learned
How to stay, and I never learned how to say
Please don’t go.
To my college boyfriend: I should have treated you better.
But I’m grateful you loved me at a time
When there was so little left of me,
When I didn’t know why I thought
There was more room for me in the stars
Than in your arms, and you held me until the end
And even after then.
To my parents: Chances amassed between
Birth and now, and there are a million
Ways we could be okay, and I want to say
I love you
With everything inside, but there’s nothing
Between Chicago and the silence that is
Neglect or
Abuse or
Conditional love. So please know that
Space is finite, and neglect breeds
Regret, and
I love you.
To myself: I should have afforded you
The same kindness I show others. I should have
Kissed you in kindergarten, and I should have
Bathed in the oasis of heat and palm trees, and I should have
Marveled in the beauty of the heavens from prairies and
Benches, with someone who loves me, and I should have
Left sooner or quieter and without the intention of seeing them.
But we are here. And we are learning
How to love again.
Lots more coming hopefully. Or not. We’ll see.
