So, Why All the Writing Workshops?

I always say that I credit my anxiety for bringing writing into my life. Writing has helped me to slow down my thoughts, to remember the good stuff and to reflect. It reveals what I already know deep inside and helps me to track my growth.

As an anxiety coach, and keen writer , I offer a series of slow-paced writing workshops. While some are directly about our anxiety (co-facilitated with the lovely Laura Repo, founder of Go Slow Mama), others focus on tools for anxiety management like slowing down our lives.

 Why writing workshops as a tool for anxiety management?

Writing workshops like these are what I wish had been available to me when I was struggling to understand and to manage my anxiety. I craved a space where anxiety could just be on the table, where it didn’t have to be divulged or explained or justified.

In short, I wanted access to community and to social situations where my struggle was understood. Even in the haze of relentless anxiety, I knew that I couldn’t be the only one. The only teacher. The only parent. I was desperate to hear the stories of others—their realities, their struggles, their methods of coping. Yet the only narratives about lived experiences with mental health were stories of folks—most often athletes and celebrities—nobly conquering their illness. This left me feeling like I was failing at finding a cure. These workshops offer writers the space to explore our messy truths. We write about our relationship with anxiety. We write about learning to manage and to thrive with it. Sometimes, we even thank it!

When writers choose to share their work—which is always optional—there are no platitudes like those we so often hear from well-intentioned but misguided supporters. No one will remind anyone to “just breathe” or to have more confidence. Everyone here understands that anxiety is not a personality trait. Workshops can serve as a relaxed and welcoming support group for those of us who face anxiety. 

In a culture of oversharing where we can often feel dumped on, writing is a way to unload on the page within a community and without infringing on the space of others. When someone volunteers to share their work, we can choose to listen, to relate, to learn and to reflect.  

Why do our own stories of anxiety matter?

Canadian comedian Mae Martin finds that it’s always the really specific stuff—the stuff that they’re ashamed of or embarrassed about—that people relate to. “The more personal, the more universal in a way,” Martin says. I’m still trying to figure out how this truth works but I experience it first hand at every writing workshop.

“With anxiety I make mistakes. I put too much salt in the soup.”

“I can’t shower and getting dressed feels too overwhelming.”

“I push the car unlock button to open the house door.”

When we write the details of our truth, we push back against the vague collective understanding of what it means to face anxiety. Writing workshops grant participants the space to go beyond the lists of signs and symptoms you would find on generic websites or listed in pamphlets at the doctor’s office. 

“Dearest Anxiety, you take me over. All of the good in me drops to the ground.”

“I feel like I am chewing on cotton.”

“When you are around I cannot ask for directions or raise my hand.”

Back to Connection and Community

Through our writing, our differences seem to connect us as much as our similarities. We write about our overeating and loss of appetite. About talking too fast and having slowed speech. About overpreparing and procrastinating. About always being late and always being too early.

Anxiety can be difficult to explain—as elusive as a brown rabbit in the forest, as bold as a neck tattoo. But doing so is important work. When we write, we grant ourselves clarity and insight. Accessing our truths is empowering and so very nourishing. 

I hope you’ll join us at the next workshop.

If social interaction is tough at the moment, if you are facing social anxiety or if you are just screened out, you are most welcome to turn off your camera.

All levels welcome. 

(Soon, I’ll be once again offering in-person workshops. We are almost there!)