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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

The ultimate challenge and reward for someone who is hurt and in pain? Not passing the hurt and the pain on to another. That is one of the greatest gifts a wise person can give.

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Not a person in sight. Apart from the person. Hiding behind the window.

Reality is such a dull and numb place. Where nothing exciting and ever happens.

Boredom, loneliness, negativity. A perhaps the odd bit of hope.

I dare say. All and everybody's lives. Will have been. Lived in vein. At the end of the day. And lived in a truly self centred way. No matter what the scripture for your play. It's sad. And it's irrelevant. Because we most likely, know, no other way.

A sad existence. That is destined for death. Is all we really have. In this world. The afterlife. In my opinion. Will be amounted too. Being remembered. And having stood for something. That was bigger then you. Which gave you the odd bit of hope. Too carry on your journey. Through this sad and lonely life. Which is destined for death.

An abyss of nothingness. Is what waits for us all. And too get there. We must navigate. This worthless reality. That some say is a gift. - I welcome the silent darkness of eternity. Too a duel. Of right. Between. Wrong. And truth. Between. Belief.

Eude.

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

I like your post @Silenus
BB xx

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

@eudemonism

I saw that you had posted something on here and thought that I would have a look..

Some very strong feelings coming across .....you have expressed your meaning well...

I am trying to think of a poet who used to write in a very similar style and his name escapes me...

hmmm have to stop trying to remember...then his name will pop into my head hopefully

keep on writing...a very good way of releasing pieces of our experiences...

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

I just got my aqua phase depot injection of psychiatric drugs @Former-Member

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Hugs @BlueBay 🙂

Hugs one and all...

Plurry hot here, for the first time this summer. North of us has been copping it for months, south of us too. But we've had a lovely breeze most of the time (15 mins drive to the sea... yay 🙂 ) and it's been relatively mild.

Nice to get a bit of wilting heat too, just to remind you what summers in Oz are all about...

Thankfully it is lovely here in Emerald City... the tomatoes might be cooking on the vine, but as soon as I get a shade house built, all my fruit and veg will be able to grow and thrive, even on wilting days like this... 🙂

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

The scoundrels and mongols of the mental health system. All deserve to be put to death. They are the enemy of the innocent person. Poor people. Pay taxes. So well paid people. Can control them. Every mental health system worker. Is the enemy of every victim. And the friend of every abuser. Who has ever been.

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Hugs, @eudemonism

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

The only thing that stops me being fearful is my excitement, and the only thing that stops me being overexcited is my fear... there is the yin and yang... there is the balance... there is the middle path...

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Geisha Girl... that's the name of the big tree in the top corner of our backyard.

It's a beautiful tree... lots of lovely flowers that smell of vanilla... lots of bees...

I was pruning the Geisha Girl tree, because it grows like bonkers here, and can quickly take over...

I had a good arrangement with the bees... I watched out for them, and they didn't sting me... the native Oz bees are less aggressive than their European cousins...

Then my hedge clippers hit a hornet's nest (or perhaps paper wasp - I was a little too busy running to note the exact details of the appearance of the wasps or their nest, which my hedge clippers had just cut right through)...

I vividly remember the horde of 30 or so angry dots, swarming out in all directions and then converging towards me... time slowed down... I watched as one wasp landed on my left forearm and stung me... I watched as I dropped the hedge clippers and flicked the wasp off on the follow-through... then I turned, took off, slipped on the loose branches and leaves on the ground, landed awkwardly on the concrete slab with my body weight going the wrong way, realised I was going to have a bad fall on the concrete and then get swarmed by wasps in a Wile E Coyote-esque fashion if I didn't do something, decided to transfer body weight and jump off the high end of the slab onto the lawn, transferred energy from what could have been a bad fall to a nice roll that took most of the momentum, got up on my feet at a run, slowed to a walk at the back steps, walked up the back steps onto the back deck, and accepted ever-so-calmly the glass of scotch that my Lovely Partner had just opened the door and offered to me...

I said a very calm "Thank you, my love," and continued on past her like nothing had happened...

Then I went and got some tea tree oil to stop the wasp sting on my forearm from getting infected...

Then I drank my scotch...

And everyone lived happily ever after...

Except those wasp buggers...they have got to go... hahaha...

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