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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

I've just realised something... kinda profound and yet very mundane...

I don't have a laugh any more...

That's not to say that I don't laugh... I laugh... often...

But my laugh is not my own...

I have about 4 or 5 different kinds of laugh, all of them copied from people who are important in my life... friends, family...

But none of those laughs are my own... I lost that laugh forever at the age of eight, when the abuse and bullying started in earnest and broke an innocent happy child...

I laugh, but I do not laugh...

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

so sorry to hear your story @Silenus

such a young age

to feel that you don't have your own laugh anymore and mimic the laugh of others would feel surreal?

or have you done it for so long that you only notice when discussing laughing?

do you think that your real laugh is buried deep within...stored away in a very safe place by a frightened..perhaps angry 8 year old boy?

many people dont allow themselves to laugh for whatever reasons...more a slight chuckle...

my laugh has always been automatic not practised in any way..at times tears of joy if I am in conversation with someone with a dry sense of humour...

a hearty laugh comes from very deep within your core...

I find that I keep losing my smile...when it all gets too much...the depression lurks...

then I practise smiling....which is actually very hard and tiring...lifting all of those facial muscles...

when a smile comes naturally these days...I surprise myself...pleasantly..

I wish for you that the day will come and your own laugh will find you..

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

A realization of the restlessness that lives within... The restlessness which wants to achieve health, happiness and peace of mind... And a realisation of the problems which are in the way...

From breakfast till tea time... My subconscious mind... Is tirelessly working... At, achieving my health, my happiness and my peace of mind...

The grey matter... Never stops too rest... It is on constant alert... For all that has been... For all that is... And for all that will be...

I'm my own worst enemy... I can't help myself... When, I start thinking...

A goal is half way achieved... When the first step has been taken...

I'm in a furious battle... Between me, myself and I... They use grey matter against each other... And each one is vicious, wears a disguise and does not want to loose...

What has brought me, too this very point in time? Where I feel so insecure... Against the unrest of my mind? Why have I failed myself again? Why can I not, take the action which is needed, too attain the feelings of, satisfaction, completion, health, happiness and peace of mind...?

Alas... The night... Is only just beginning...

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

I yearn to find... Someone or something or some force of nature... That outdoes my own restlessness... And the closest thing... I could find... Too such an unrest... Is the untamed ocean and the waves of the sea...

I have not stopped... Looking for that reaction... From someone... Or something... Or some force of nature... A reaction... Which I perhaps received... From my giver of life...

I feel as if... I am still... A young infant... In the arms of my mother... Who cared for me... So much... That she made me seek the reaction of... Compassion and happiness... From all... From everything... And from whatever force I was up against...

But perhaps my mother... Had to let me go... And had to let me... Find my own path in life... And wanted to teach me... That I would always be alone in this world... Which is why... She taught that young infant... Who was once in her arms... That infant who was me... To seek compassion and happiness... From all beings... From all objects... And from all the forces of the universe...

Maybe my mother... Let me go... Because I had learned between right and wrong... That hard way... And my innocence as a child... Had been lost... Too the evil of this world...

There will be no other... Like my mother... There will be nothing else... Like the calmness... I find... In the waves of the sea... And there will be... No such force... Greater... Than the reaction I seek...

I nearly lost myself... In the evil of this world... I nearly gave up on my soul... I nearly forgot... What my mother had taught me......

Make a dream of the world... Or the world... Will make a dream of you...

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Oh my, @eudemonism

That moved me. Thank you for your words. Such strength from adversity, to choose the path of Love and Compassion. In my humble view, it is the only way...

Gentle hugs...

Oh... and I too am a creature of the sea... 🙂

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

The reality of bipolar - the problem is not that I respond to stress badly; the problem is that I respond to stress too well. Hypomania kicks me into overdrive, with its coursing of the blood and boundless energy. It is more addictive and intoxicating than any drug, illicit or otherwise; and yet there it is, all natural, manufactured by my bipolar disorder's biochemical response to stress, surging through my body and firing my brain to Icarus heights...

Alas, we live in an ever more stressful world...

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

Poem - Mirror, Mirror, on the Fall

My latest poem, inspired by two mirrors in a million pieces...

~~~~~~~ ♤♧♢♡ ~~~~~~~

Mirror, Mirror, on the Fall

When fiction becomes fact,
Maybe it's enquiry that you lacked;
When not by evidence backed
Sees societies sacked;
Look in the mirror cracked,
What does it refract?

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

@Silenus sorry for intruding and imposing on your thread like I have.. When writing such things I'm in a rather scattered frame of mind.. And thinking that I'm taking steps toward my dreams of being a great writer.. Eude.

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Hi, @eudemonism... 🙂

Please, please... this thread is public property... I encourage everyone to write as little or as much as they would like...

You have a great talent as a writer, eudemonism... describing the indescribable is indeed an art...

Many hugs and happy vibes to you. 🙂

Is that a fig tree in your avatar? We used to have a fig tree in the backyard when I was growing up here in Oz... the smell of that tree when the summer heat was beating down... wow, truly something magical...

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

My pain is real

it is a big deal

but no one can see it

because it doesn't fit

It is so raw

Just close the door

I wonder what you think

As you have your last drink

I pray for myself

that I can get that help

I just want to be loved

And I've never been hugged

And as time goes by

and I sit and wonder why

you do all this to me

all i want is to be set free

My emotions are everywhere

Because you just don't care

I wish i had my teddbear

to hold and hold my hair

It's hard to let go of you

And that's why i feel so blue

The tears still roll down face

This life is not a race

I cry and cry for the day

that you would just say

I'm sorry for what I did

but you would just contradict

I have to leave this day today

Just pack my bags and leave for good

For yoiu have hurt me so much

and I can't forgive you anymore

The pain is so real and raw

Good bye forever and forever more

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