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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

you 2 @Mazarita....

Hope you write more......

x

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

I hope you post more of your writing too, @PeppiPatty

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

I'm writing this cool book but I dont think Im allowed to post.....its only notes......

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

dose goes up

nerves dance a

jitterbug

feeling things more

through a static of

bloodrush

living with fear but

doing it anyway

.....

Edit: @PeppiPatty, I was writing that poem just then, when you posted, so missed you, hehe. I'd love to read more of your poetry. Are you doing any of that kind of writing these days?

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

I hope I'm not intruding @Silenus

It's 3:30am and I'm in the mood for writing. I too enjoy the written word to out my internal stirrings. I used to journal, though I haven't touched those pages for quite a long time, preferring to dabble on-line instead.

The Lifeline consultant I spoke with earlier helped to identify what ails me; loss of friendships and its grief.

I've been avoiding these feelings of unrest, which in turn creates volcano rumblings. It's been a few months of plodding the house, drinking copious amounts of coffee, getting up late, going to bed late and staring at my untidy kitchen as I pass by in disgust.

I am alone.

By choice? Yes. Better to be in solitude than with deceivers and back slashers. The scars are many and often have had salt rubbed in their rawness before healing could begin.

I can't fathom how easy it is for some to lie and distant themselves from the truth. In all honesty though, I've been lying to myself. I avoid 'me'. Maybe they're just reflecting how I've been towards myself.

Do I push people away? Hmm.. it's possible, even probable if I'm truthful. I needed to write that.

Good therapy session. 🙂 Thanks..

Hope

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

the traffic and the sea

intertwine their sounds

a fruit bat screech

in another register

computer hums its music

while I whisper these words

only one awake here

again in the night.

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Goodnight @Mazarita .... heading off now ....

💕

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Sleep well, @Faith-and-Hope

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Give way

Give way ghost of the past
Give way I don’t want to be
Your prisoner anymore

They’re standing guard
Won’t they let me go?
Every night they drag me
To the torture chamber
Of memories
Every night they hold me
While I’m trying to break
The chains

They tell me it will get worse
If I fight
They tell me no one believes
They tell me all my attempts
Just make my chains stronger

I scream out loud
I’ll break the chain
I won’t be your prisoner
No longer

But daylight comes
And I see the sun
And I think of all
That would grieve
If I go
If I cut my chains
If I cut out the past
And I promise
To live one more day

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Another day has been spent Living in the abyss Of a tortured man's beliefs

I have realised that the clock never stops and time never runs out which is a really good thing. Because I now know that my spirit life is infinite and my dreams can live forever. The sea breeze never stops pushing the sailing ships. Just as the insanity never leaves the mentally ill.

A bookshelve in the corridor perhaps holds the secrets of life and the mysteries that bewild me. Who knows? A world of lost souls. Talks about times gone bye as if there is a second life.

No spirits bother me. Just like no birds sing at night. The sea is blue. Like the day time sky. The be careful not to be afraid of what lives inside.
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