Writing Through Anger
Sometimes you have to go through it.
Images from Michael Rosen’s We’re Going on a Bear Hunt. Illustrated by Helen Oxenbury
When my kids were little one of our favorite books to read at night was We’re Going on a Bear Hunt by Michael Rosen. I’ve thought about that book a lot lately as I try to work through some tough times and setbacks. The book is about a family taking a walk. Throughout the walk, they face obstacles: a fence, tall grass, a muddy path, and a dark forest. Each time they are confronted with an obstacle they survey their options, “…we can’t go over it, we can’t go under it…” then decide, “We have to go through it.” And each time they go through it and survive, muddy, wet, emboldened, and ready to face the next obstacle.
Images from Michael Rosen’s We’re Going on a Bear Hunt. Illustrated by Helen Oxenbury
I have found myself chanting the chorus in my head a lot over the last year as I am continuously gut-punched by one setback after another. Financial, emotional, professional, and political. Each time I think, I can’t go over it. I can’t go under it, I have to go through it. Loss of child support and a sudden transition to 100-percent custody, the slap in the face that is the middle-aged job hunt, the incredibly joyless (and demeaning!) experience of watching you-know-who get elected again. I can’t go over it, I can’t go under it, I have to go through it.
For me, “going through it’ means head down, one foot in front of the other. Rote movements. Wind in your face, not at your back. Just step, then next step. That is how I got through the first few months of my divorce. Clearing the decks of anything- or anyone-that might hinder me is key to getting through. This could mean toxic relatives, unrealistic expectations, or social media. I’ve mastered this battening down and moving forward. Or at least I thought I had. This past year has been tough.
So tough that the one thing I have not been able to do while constantly being some combination of angry, sad, and scared, is write. I find it nearly impossible to focus. And when I can sit still, I write the most dystopian, shrill, and angry pieces, that don’t seem to have an ending. I don’t know where to take them. What is the point of this essay? What does it add to the “discourse”? So I abandon it. The moment will come when I can write again, I tell myself.
But a year has passed since I’ve finished anything, and I am still stuck. So today, I’ve decided it’s time to stop trying to go over or under it and write through it.
At the end of the book, the family finds a bear. They all freak out and run back home the way they came. Straight through the obstacles that scared them before without hesitation or thought. They end up right back where they started, but aren’t the same. When you go through something you are changed. Not perfect. Not finished. But aware that you can survive more than you thought you could. Or write more than you thought you could.
