diana pressey

I’ve kept a journal full of angsty hybrid poetry-prose since I was 14 years old. I call it notebook therapy. Writing my way through sadness has helped me come to terms with myself at my lowest points, then come out of the experience stronger.

In a previous post, I discussed painting to cope with anxiety. And as I mentioned in my other self-indulgent post about sadness, writing free-form prose is my go-to coping mechanism for gloom and has been for years. Sadness or anger + writing out emotions = Feeling less like a sack of cold refried beans. Easy math, if there is such a thing!

I’ve gone through just a couple of notebooks in the last decade or so. I only write this way when I’m feeling intensely terrible, which is blessedly an occasional thing. If I’m feeling rough and am on the go, it’s sometimes faster and easier to the notes app of my phone. But writing by hand really is soothing. Creating something permanent feels special in a way that electronics can’t replicate. (I know it’s not technically permanent, given the inevitable heat death of the universe—or, probably sooner, my journal’s physical decomposition—but cut me some slack; words hard sometimes.)

Just as an aside, listening to or watching spoken word or slam poetry is also a strong outlet. Contrary to popular belief spread by pop culture, slam poetry is not all just improvisational angry yelling with hand-waving and specific points of view on things. The best poems make me cry, laugh, gape in awe at the wordplay, or all of the above.

Anyway, back to my therapist notebook. As someone who can’t yet afford therapy—a major goal, as I think everyone can benefit from it—this kind of outlet is essential. I never let myself bottle emotions up, and I don’t have to burden others with my issues.

This is not to say that negative emotions are a burden. But I’d hate to make friends and family do emotional labor whenever I get sad about the state of the world or how people mistreat one another when I can competently do it on my own. The ability to deal with and compartmentalize emotions independently is crucial, and I know that sounds silly and obvious, but as someone who was a teenager only a few years ago, I know doing so is no easy task. Clinical depression and other mental disorders are obviously an exception, and there’s no shame in needing help or treatment. But being able to cope on one’s own is important. Being able to go through life alone in general is important.

As an extrovert, loneliness has long been one of my biggest fears. But writing out my sadness and moving to new places has helped me come to terms with the importance of getting comfortable being alone. In the immortal words of Rupaul…

If we avoid loneliness at all costs and rely on others to get through bad times, we become dangerously reliant on others for our own happiness. But you can’t find happiness in other people. It has to come from yourself. (And maybe puppies, too.)

Surprise! The whole blog post was just an excuse to use these GIFs. Good night.