Writing Through Grief

Creativity can be cathartic. My guest today, Meredith Foster, shares the story of how writing helped her through a period of grief—and how it can help you too.

October 25th, 9:17 AM EST, Downtown Indianapolis, Indiana.

I’ve been thinking about this post for over a month now. I thought I was ready to write it. I was wrong. To be honest, I don’t know that I’ll ever be ready. That said… I’ll give it my best.

Words are so often transient, fickle things, even for those of us who carve a living out of language and stories. The strongest emotions frequently take on a life of their own, defying description and explanation. Grief is one such emotion.

I loved my father. No, no past tense… I love my father. His death in 2012 was one of the most agonizing things I’ve ever been through. Grief, much like the cancer that took his life, is an insidious, undeniable force that demands acknowledgement in the most intrusive way possible. To ignore it is to ignore cleaning a wound, leaving it to fester and mutate.

For me, creativity is a catharsis, as it is for so many other artistically inclined individuals. Getting words onto the page brings the same relief as easing into a warm bath, or, depending on the day, removing shards of glass from scraped feet. Exercising my skill, nurturing my writing, bringing my stories to life… these are acts of self-care. Let’s clear one thing up right now: self-care is NOT selfish. Self-care is self-love, and critical in a world that so often tells us to put our own emotional needs on the backburner.

I don’t know that I’ve ever felt so raw as I did in the weeks immediately following my father’s death. For me, self-care during that time meant leaving home, and, much to my surprise, doing a LOT of writing. I journaled every day and wrote some of the sappiest, most clichéd love stories ever to grace my computer screen. Were they good? No. Did they make me feel better? Absolutely.

Since grief and dealing with emotional hardship are highly individualized experiences, I can’t guarantee these coping suggestions will be helpful for everyone. Here are some things that worked for me; I hope you, dear readers, can find them to be of some use.


Feel Your Feelings

I can’t emphasize this one enough. Crying, screaming, staying silent… there’s no wrong way to experience your emotions, but pushing them away or pretending they don’t exist only leads to more pain in the long run.


Write Whatever You Damn Well Please

Worried that your story about the popular jock Elf of color who wants to bake sugar cookies for the lesbian dwarf from the wrong side of the forest sounds stupid? Don’t be! If that’s what you need to write in order to make yourself feel better, do it!

(Actually, someone please write this and send it to me. It sounds delightful.)


Don’t Forget to Look Out for You

This might sound obvious, but it’s easy to get lost in supporting others without seeking support. Take time for yourself and your healing, or make the time.


Remember, It’s Okay to Say No

You don’t have to attend or participate in any event (funeral, viewing, tribute, etc.) if you don’t think you can handle it. You are not obliged to subject yourself to trauma in order to appease family members, friends, or acquaintances. Let me repeat that one more time: you are not obliged to subject yourself to trauma in order to appease family members, friends, or acquaintances.

If there’s one point I want to make with this post, friends, it’s to be good to yourselves. Not just during difficult times, but always. You and your stories matter, and not even grief can take that away.