Here I sit...anxious, joyful, sad and angry
Teach children how to describe their feelings, and they'll not only be a better writer but they'll be a better person.
At the age of twenty, I struggled through depression. Since then, I have had my ups and downs. Anxiety, or as I call it, ‘Albert’, is a constant voice in my head. He’s a thief of joy, a bringer of dread, and a virus of despair. Without words, I’d be alone with Albert. But words give me the chance to express to others how I feel. Just the mere expression alone is often enough to free me of his chains. However, when I get the expression right, I see others begin to understand my strife. I see how they finally get it. And in those moments, I’m not alone anymore.
Teaching children how to express their feelings is easily the most important part of my job. I know that most of my students aren’t going to go on to have careers as authors, poets, or scriptwriters, but that doesn’t matter to me. If I have armed them with the tools they need to express themselves, then I know that they can free themselves of their own chains, get help when they need it, connect with others, and be the supportive shoulder that so many need.
In today’s edition of Simon’s Write Club, I have written four pieces based on four feelings: ANXIETY, JOY, SADNESS, and ANGER. They all follow a similar pattern, and they all use figurative language, poetic freedoms, and powerful vocabulary to express themselves. Take some time to read these with your children. They are not easy, and your child may need some support. Then, encourage them to write their own versions. There is no need for a story or characters. The only thing they should do is focus on expressing their feelings.
ANXIETY
Here I sit, nerves coiling around my guts and twisting my heart until it beats with the drum of doom; it resonates through my body, spreading the worry like echoes that never silence. My nervous system leaks with each bead of sweat that trickles down the side of my head. Breaths are short. Shallow. They escape before they can calm me. They want to be far from here, far from me. My palms are clammy. I wipe them on my trousers, leaving smears of angst. I beg for an end to this shuddery dread that writhes inside me. My mind scavenges for an excuse. “Blame someone else,” it whispers. But the thought twists my guts further. I can taste the sick in the bile that bubbles inside. It simmers and broils, its poisonous steam smothering my thoughts with a misty fog of fear. I can’t think straight. I’m no longer in control of my inner thoughts. They are a voice of their own. They scream at me, belittle me, chastise me. They tell me it is all my fault. They want me to suffer. It’s what I deserve. Suffer. Maybe then the angst will leave. Maybe then I’ll feel some peace.
VOCABULARY
Angst: A feeling of deep anxiety or dread.
Shuddery: Causing or characterized by shudders; trembling.
Writhes: To twist the body about, or squirm, as in pain or violent effort.
Scavenges: To search through or pick over, looking for something usable.
Broils: To be or become very hot; to boil with anger.
Belittle: To make (someone or something) seem less impressive or important.
Chastise: To criticize someone severely.
JOY
Here I sit, joy dancing in my soul and filling my heart until it beats with a rhythm of ecstasy; it resonates through my body, spreading the delight like the jubilant joys of a rapturous crowd who will not be silenced. My whole being radiates with a euphoric glow that twinkles so brightly on my smile that others shield their eyes from its exultant glare. Breaths fall deep inside me, filling my lungs with serenity and on each exhale I can almost feel the bad memories and thoughts that used to pull me down drifting away into nothing but air. My fingers twitch. I can’t stay still. I never want this feeling to end. I blink as my mind flashes with such joy I can’t decide if I should shout, sing or scream. But I need to let it out. It wants to be heard. “Let the world know!” it cries. I go to speak, but there is a numbness in my lips, one that causes a tremble and tears to brim in my eyes, tears of sheer exhilaration. “Do I deserve this?” I ask myself. Of course I do. I can’t think straight, and who cares? I let my thoughts run wild and free. The heaven they create for me is even more blissful than I could have predicted. And I deserve this joy. It’s mine. I hold onto this feeling for as long as I can. I bask in it. For when this passes, I must remember this feeling. I must remember this joy!
VOCABULARY:
Ecstasy: An overwhelming feeling of great happiness or joyful excitement.
Jubilant: Feeling or expressing great happiness and triumph.
Rapturous: Characterized by, feeling, or expressing great pleasure or enthusiasm.
Euphoric: Characterized by or feeling intense excitement and happiness.
Exultant: Triumphantly happy.
Exhilaration: A feeling of excitement, happiness, or elation.
SADNESS
Here I sit, sadness shuffling through my soul and seeping deep into the barren desolation which swamps the shallows of my heart; it spills through me like a flood of despair and its moans echo with a melancholy memory of misfortune and misery. Every muscle in my body is slumped, every word that leaves me is steeped in sorrow, and on every expression and movement I make, I reveal the dejection that drills into my core. My breaths are nothing but weak washes of woe, that whine as they leave my despondent being. I clench my fist, but meekly, as there is no strength left in me. My mind is in turmoil. It groans and grizzles, “Why me?” It’s a chorus of self-pitying songs that swell in solemnity until they reach the most lacklustre of crescendoes, which in itself is a dire disappointment. My thoughts are a graveyard of moss-coated tombstones, and beneath each one lies a dream buried. And now, I have no dream, no hope, no wish. Just sadness…and sorrow…and suffering.
VOCABULARY:
Barren: Empty or deserted.
Melancholy: A feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause.
Misfortune: Bad luck.
Dejection: A sad and depressed state; low spirits.
Crescendoes: The loudest point reached in a gradually increasing sound.
Despondent: In low spirits from loss of hope or courage.
Lacklustre: Lacking in vitality, force, or conviction; uninspired or uninspiring. It often describes something that is dull or not very exciting.
ANGER
Here I sit, the anger plundering my soul and ransacking my heart, where it leaves nothing but a wreck of rage; it attacks me with wild cries of fury, like a vengeful banshee on the prowl. Every muscle in my body tightens and twists, my teeth clench to the point of snapping, my fists so tight the bright white fights to be seen on knuckles. I pant. My chest heaves up and down. Like a bull, I expel some short breaths through my nose. They want to be heard. They’re a warning to others to back away. I’m on the rampage. This wild wrath is an untamed beast hungry for revenge; revenge is my only escape. The pressure builds, bubbling and steaming, broiling and burning; it simmers deep and needs to get out. A punch. A kick. A lashing-out of sorts. Anything. Pain. I need to cause pain. To me. To someone. To anyone. “Arghh!!” my mind cries. Venom pours out. I can’t even speak. Just a monster now. A devil. Anger can do this. It crushes the human and brings the beast in us out. It’s here now. It’s wild. Stay back.
VOCABULARY:
Plundering: Stealing goods, typically using force and in a time of war or civil disorder.
Ransacking: Go hurriedly through (a place) stealing things and causing damage.
Banshee: A female spirit in Irish mythology who heralds the death of a family member, usually by wailing or shrieking.
Untamed: Not domesticated or otherwise controlled.
Venom: Extreme malice and bitterness shown in someone's attitudes, speech, or actions.