Tending the Soil — Lesson 2

Hi everyone,

Welcome to Lesson Two. Today, we're exploring how to write through stress and anxiety without triggering a panic spiral.

Sometimes you sit down to write and everything inside you just locks up. You have the notebook open, the pen is in your hand, but your posture tenses and your breath stops right at the base of your throat. Instead of the words coming out, your mind goes blank, or it gets so crowded that you can’t even form a coherent sentence.

I used to think this meant I wasn’t trying hard enough. We're often told that healing means looking directly at the thing that broke us. So I would try to force the words, pushing through the numbness, believing that if I could just lay the whole mess out on paper, I’d finally find some relief.

But forcing it only made it worse. When you are already overwhelmed, demanding that your mind dissect the panic is too much. Your body knows it isn’t ready to handle it yet. That physical tightness or emptiness isn’t a lack of discipline, it is your nervous system shutting the door to keep you safe.

If that door is closed, you don’t have to force your way through. You don’t have to stand right in the middle of the wreckage. You can approach the heavy parts sideways, step by step. You can draw a line that lets you look at what happened without letting it pull you under.

Think of a tree that’s been damaged. The bark gets stripped away, exposing the bare wood. But the tree doesn’t heal by covering up the wound. It heals by growing thick, new bark around the perimeter. It doesn't erase the wound, it protects it while new growth continues.

That’s what we’re doing today. We aren’t poking the bruise; we’re looking at the clear skin right next to it.

Share

If you’d like to access the writing practice, the step-by-step prompts, and join our community discussion, you can upgrade to a paid subscription here.