I find writing poetry helps to vent my anxiety.
I thought I would post something I have recently written:

Yorkshire Moors

It’s inviting, yet grey, desolate and bleak
Interesting with a feeling of sadness which engulfs
Strong yet with the sweep of the wind it becomes weak
Silence, except the sound of a solitary raven
Scratchy green shrubs stretch for miles
It’s our very own hidden haven
I wasn’t born to this hilly land
But I always felt sure to call it my own
Someone came to me and took my hand
And now it’s my home.