Self-Care for Writers, and the Anxiety of Turning Fifty—a New Poem in Rogue Agent, and Anxiety and Its Antidotes

A Mollusk Without a Shell with Charlotte

Self-Care for Writers

This anthology, A Mollusk Without a Shell: Essays on Self-Care for Writers, from University of Akron Press came out at a great time, no? I’m so proud and happy to have an essay in the collection, along with many friends like Kelli Russell Agodon, Charles Jensen, Lee Ann Roripaugh, and many others. (Thanks to Mary Biddinger and Julie Brooks Barbour.) Topics range from the distractions of social media and AWP hazing to dealing with issues like cancer and death of a family member. And with AWP, Valentine’s Day, the Superbowl, and Lunar New Year all happening in the same week, what do writers need more than a reminder about self-care? Charlotte (above) poses with a copy of the new book.

A lot of the anthology contributors are Gen X, who might have some unique knowledge about self-care, having been brought up as latch-key kids, the forgotten generation, the first generation to do financially less well than their parents, the sandwich generation (taking care of children and aging parents at the same time these days), and raised on teen apocalypse literature before it was cool. As a kid as young as 10, I was up before daybreak, walked a mile along a highway to the junior high to take a transfer bus to my school with my little brother, made my own breakfast and lunch and sometimes dinner, and then spent two hours after school at various activities (often finding my own ride home among friends and other people’s parents). I went to unchaperoned parties where yes, sex and drinking and drugs existed. I ran away from policemen (once with a friend on crutches), sketchy characters on motorcycles (after an ill-advised TP-ing sleepover activity), and a crotchety parent (of a house party he was not aware he was hosting, thanks to his son) with a shotgun. I was told I wouldn’t be able to have children when I was 19. On the cusp of a long weekend away, a doctor told me a year later, “You either have AIDs, lupus, or cancer, have a good weekend!” Since that cheery experience, I’ve been diagnosed with multiple life-threatening illness. Are these good qualifications for someone to give advice about self-care? You be the judge!

A New Poem in the Latest Issue of Rogue Agent

I’m also happy to say I have a poem in the latest issue of Rogue Agent, about the anxiety of turning 50. (Which seems like it was just yesterday, but how is it almost a whole year ago?)

Here’s a link to the poem and issue online: Jeannine Hall Gailey—Rogue Agent (rogueagentjournal.com)
This is a sneak peek:

Anxiety and Its Antidotes

Have you been feeling anxious? I’ve been having anxiety dreams almost every night, and (probably related) trouble sleeping at all, staying up ’til 4 AM. I haven’t been writing as much poetry as I’d like—too busy doing paperwork and web forms—and I’m going to be going to a residency that requires a plane flight, something I haven’t done since way before the pandemic. I’m worried about the state of the world, the state of America. I worry about my family members and friends. I worry about the pandemic, the fact that it’s not over, and we still don’t have that many good treatments for it. I worry about God and justice, my place in the world, if I’m doing the right things with my life. The poem above is all about anxiety, and I admit, many of them haven’t changed. I just did my part of the taxes, and that never leaves me feeling good about my choices in life (see: not making enough money to cover your student loans, that old saw, another thing we X-ers pioneered). My computer’s been constantly crashing, which means a switch to a new one will be coming soon. Another doctor retired, so I’ll have to train another specialist replacement. Are all of these things equally important? No, they are not.

So, what are your good antidotes for anxiety? Reading a relaxing book (murder mysteries are usually my go-to relaxation type of book). I’ve been listening to music at night before I go to bed. I also tried watching old movies, mostly comedies. I’m trying to get outside during our brief moments of sunshine and get outside when I can. I spend time with my two cuddly cats. I’m trying to eat healthy (for me, more protein, and more iron and B12, less sugar) and get back to my regular pre-winter-illness levels of physical activity, which cliché or no, does help, I know. Spending time with sunrises and sunsets. I’m looking forward to spring, to being able to be out in my garden a bit more, going to farmer’s markets again, at least. I’m hoping this level of anxiety won’t last another month, another year. Wishing you an anxiety-free day, week, month, year.