There's a saying in 12-step programs: Hurt people hurt. But there's an exception to that. He's Stephen King, at least the decent person/author/recovered drunk and druggie captured in the unauthorized biography "Haunted Heart: The Life and Times of Stephen King."
In that amazing 2008 book, Lisa Rogak chronicles King's boyhood of poverty. His father went out for a pack of cigarettes. That left his mother and the two boys - King had an adopted older brother - to live with a God's Plenty of relatives around the nation, most of whom didn't welcome the three. Without the usual middle-class comforts and diversions, King turned inward to his imagination and books. Writing became his first drug of choice. Then came the usual route for the wounded and gifted: Alcohol and cocaine.
But even in wealth and fame, King was never mean. Not to his family. Not to neighbors. Not to old friends. Not to those on his business network. The more material goodies came to him the more he and his wife gave them away to the needy.
Given his fame, it was likely that there would be a search by others for his father. They tracked him down, once he had been dead. A bigamist he had taken on another wife. Children resulted from the marriage. Always decent, King never made that public. He did not want that family hurt.
On days we are in emotional pain or even at a bottom, we writers should write about it, not cause more harm in the world. Hurt people don't have to hurt.