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Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Hi all,

I have found throughout the course of my life that writing has been a constant companion to me. It has provided me with a way to vent my frustrations, to grapple with the eternal verities of life that confound and delight me, to explore ideas and concepts, and to try to put into words the often chaotic moods and thoughts that result from having a mind that's a little bit odd...

I have written lots of poems, especially in the last 3 or 4 years, dealing with depression and bipolar. They help me to process and understand some of the things that are happening in this twisted little noodle of mine. As such, writing has become one of my main forms of therapy.

One of the best things that I find about writing is that it can act as a kind of mood diary. I can read things that I had previously written, and it will quite often map out where I was at during the time of writing. The words I spread across the page act as signposts of my progress, too. As my self knowledge increases and my life journey progresses, I find that it affects how I write and what I write...

Often, we do not see the thousands of tiny little changes to our selves that our life experiences cause over the years. It can be very helpful to re-read old writings, in order to see how far we have come, what we have improved, where we have fallen back into old harmful habits, and the things that we have learned.

The language that we use in our writings and in our thoughts and in our speech is very important. It can reveal a lot about our selves, our states of mind, and our moods...

That language, it can become a self-fulfilling prophecy. I believe that we attract certain kinds of people around us, and create (or at least influence) life situations based on our choice of language. It helps define who we are as a person.

Negative thinking, self-deprecation, self-hatred, these sorts of dangerous life traps are often revealed in our choice of words. So too are the positive things. It all starts with a glass. How we describe the glass and the quantity and quality of its contents, that's where language comes into it, and it can shape our very lives and the lives of those around us.

Writing... it is my solace and my main tool of self-analysis. It is my favourite form of therapy...

2932 replies

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In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy


Im sorry im not a better person, im sorry im mentally unwell
im so sorry for putting you all through this living hell.
Im sorry im not what people want me to be

im the reason your life is destroyed
and now I finally understand why your so annoyed

as I write this im weeping
im trying but I just cant stop
the darkness is creeping

im sorry im a complete mess, in a right state
I just want to deflate
slide through the cracks in the floor
then they wouldnt have to see me anymore

im sorry for being born
im sorry for being the evil spawn

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Just be careful about rights reserved of you material. Cause there could be some peering eyes on the other side of one of the screens that be reading and stealing your material.

This site is designed to gather, store and collect information which is produced bye mentally ill people. It is also connected with a broadcasting network. Which makes me think. Beware. Plagiarism may be in the air.

It's a great way for them too gather new material. Which preys on people in need. And it's a safe and accommodating place with friendly faces for those people in need.

The radio stations also do it. Through text line numbers. They have data bases with thousands of texts stored on them. What a perfect way to collect information? Feed off of the population.

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Sorry to spoil the fun. But ya gotta think about these things sometimes when you live in a world which is ruled bye the wicked one.

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Death be upon me. Like a falling shadow. From the sky. So i am reminded of my mortality. And my plight. So it seems that life. Has made me wear a disguise. So i cannot be seen bye anyones eyes. Now if i showed my true self. You would have to lie. Because its hard to get noticed. Without a plight.

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Hi I write poetry when depressed and draw and paint when manic. Creativity is in everyone and is great therapy. Words are powerful wise words thanks. I'll now read your poems. Thanks for sharing.

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

I'm willing to do anything too win this game.

In response to: Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Poem - Grounded

Here's a philosophical poser for you...

~~~~~~~ ♤♧♢♡ ~~~~~~~

Grounded

If you were falling off a cliff, knowing you will die,
Will you look towards the ground or will you face the sky?

In response to: Poem - Grounded

Poem - Birds of a Feather

Birds of a Feather

Birds of a feather flock together,
Always wanting to take flight... hahaha...

Spread the wings and fly... and then dive from the sky...
This eternal dance... bipolar, lost without a chance...

Icarus... phoenix... rising again to die...
Each morning I am born, and by each night I fry...
If I told you it wasn't tragically magnificent, you would know it for a lie...
As I rise once more from the ashes, I begin it again with a sigh...

I crashed, I burned, I died a death, just like any other day,
I rise again despite the pain to once more join the fray...

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

@Silenus

I would face the rocks

In response to: Poem - Birds of a Feather

A Dream I Had Last Month

11th July...

Last night I dreamed that I went round to Mick Jagger's and Keith Richards' secret luxury mansion. We drank lots, smoked some weed, did some acid. I invited them out for a night of fun and frolics. They agreed to come along. I thought we had an awesome night of grand adventure. I called them the day after, but they wouldn't return my calls. I went round and knocked on their door. I asked why they didn't want to talk to me. Mick told me I was boring...

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