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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...

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In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

@Sans911 💕

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Poem - Kinks in the Kingship

Kinks in the Kingship

"Sigh..."
"What is wrong, Sire?"
"Sigh..."
"What troubles you, Sire?"
"Sigh..."
"Or are you just a Sigher, Sire?"
"... sigh..."

The might of my crown is all that you see,
The weight of my crown is all that I feel;
You look and wonder, and think "How free!"
The weight bears me down and I kneel.

In response to: Poem - Kinks in the Kingship

Is This Coping Mechanism Right For Me?

The title says it all... Is This Coping Mechanism Right For Me?

It's an important question that we need to ask ourselves. What worked as a coping mechanism when we were in the direst of circumstances may not work when we are at different points in our lives, removed from the trenches, the foxholes, the caves, the darkest pits...

Our coping mechanisms and wellness strategies are more than just pretty words that we learned in CBT class the other week... hahaha... they form a large part of what keeps us alive and (sometimes only barely) functioning in this crazy chaotic world made up of crazy chaotic people... of which we, ourselves, are every bit as crazy and chaotic...

I can only speak for myself. The rest is make believe and supposition on my part. Therefore, I tend to focus things back to a personal level. One person. Me. I understand more about me than I can presume to understand about anybody else. And I also know that my own self knowledge is a slowly growing thing, far from perfect or even, for that matter, particularly extensive...

My coping mechanisms are a structured way to deal with the chaos. Over time, I have worked out things that work and things that don't. I then apply these coping mechanisms to deal with life and the often unbalanced ways that my particular squirly brain responds to said life...

But it must never stop there... I must always question whether a particular coping mechanism is the right fit for me in my current (dare I say "Now") situation. Some coping mechanisms can be downright harmful to oneself if one allows them to become a habit, or the new "normal"... this applies equally to behaviour patterns, ways of thinking, and any external substances...

Always questioning, that's the hard path to greater self knowledge...

My coping mechanisms are the tools in my Life Toolbox. It is a heavy box, and difficult to carry around. If a tool is no longer fit for purpose, it gets hoiked to lighten the load...

In response to: Is This Coping Mechanism Right For Me?

Re: Is This Coping Mechanism Right For Me?

I feel that way about writing sometimes. @Silenus Although my desire to write preceded my knowledge of the word or concept of therapy. Always love reading your posts. Yes, life is all about the questioning and the being and the opening of consciousness to each new moment of now.

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Beautiful @Sans911

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

What the mental health system has done too me... Is absolutely ridiculous... 12 years ago... I walked into a mental health facility as a man who was under the influence of illicit drugs, as a man who was in circumstances which were causing his symptoms, as a man who was deeply hurting from a blunder caused bye the mental health system which lead to the death of my beloved brother... Which literally sent me into the deep, dark and desperate grieving process of trying to find answers and some resolution and away to move on woth

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Eude... @eudemonism... I feel for you.

So much hurt to work through. So much healing to do...

It is a self-evident fact, and yet often overlooked, that one cannot work through difficult things in one's life, and one cannot truly heal, if one is currently in a state of chaos and suffering.

I talk a lot about Mindfulness and other high-fallutin' philosophical mumbo jumbo that works for me in my life. BUT... I have had the relative luxury of being able to fall apart and put myself back together again in an environment that allowed me to concentrate all of my life energies on it. That is indeed a luxury.

We must be calm in order to be able to start healing...

Anger, fear, mistrust, resentment, all of these things of the past and the future, they create a chaos within. That chaos is composed of wild thoughts, turbulent emotions, sudden inexplicable mood swings, energy disturbances, and a general primordial noise that only contributes to the duration and severity of our suffering...

The world is unjust. It is barbaric. Civilization is a slow beast that often sees many people falling through the cracks, unsupported, even vilified...

But that is not something that we can change in a hurry. It is especially not a battle that we can take on whilst all of this internal conflict is raging within us...

We must conserve our precious life energies, and use them to seek to still the inner chaos and conflict, to seek the silence that lies beneath all the noise, waiting to be found. In that silence, there is solace and peace, and from a place of peace, we can get started on that most important of life tasks - healing ourselves of our hurts and moving on to greater things...

This is my humble belief. This is my life path. I invite you to inspect it, and see if it would work in your own life...

Hugs and calming gentle vibes beaming to all... 🙂

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Cont... With my life... The death of my brother caused this great and ferocious grieving cycle to begin... Which hasn't really stopped... I'm unsure of the exact factors involved with grieving... But I think it's the loss, the guilt, the blame, the anger, the looking for answers and resolution, and wanting to accept and move on with life... It literally sent me into a world of mental illness which I never came back from... A hundred trials of that murder was not worth the loss of my brother... I had my problems before he died... But I also had my sanity... And I honestly think... The grieving cycle became that ferocious I would target everything I've every done wrong... And everything every wrong that had happened to me. (as away to try and deal with what I was going through) And it was vicious and it was nasty. It's almost like I started creating a delusional storyline as an answer for everything. And then I added a positive and a negative twist to everything from my past, present and future. Which turned into thinking the absolute worst or the absolute best about everything I was trying to process and deal with. And, it was because my reality, my life and my world had fallen apart and been destroyed before my very eyes. Until I get taken to the mental health system (bye my mother.) Who make a knee jerk decision to institutionalize me. Give me a diagnosis. And put my on pharmaceutical drugs. And as I sit here within myself. Twelve years later. I'm thinking. That the end results aren't that good. In actual that. The end results. Are actually quite bad! I've been desperately trying to make my life work for me. I been desperately trying to find my meaning and purpose... I been desperately trying to provide myself with what I need and want. And it's all very futile. It's all very demoralizing. It's all very vein. It's all riddled with the essence of suffering. And it's all very traumatizing to deal with and go through... Too the point of having lost hope of ever making a recovery. And being able to live the life I deserve... I still get stuck in this mentally ill way of thinking from time to time. And from what I can tell. I'm trying to comprehend and make sense of my thoughts about the past, present or future. And very quickly it manifests into a very distressing storyline with is based around symptoms. And it causes me great suffering... Meanwhile the life I want to live. The reality I want my life to be. Is becoming every more miserable. And ever more the driving force behind my illness...

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

I wrote this a couple of years ago, when I was still physically on my Walkabout around this great country of Oz... travel is good for the soul... it teaches you much about others that is different to what you have experienced... it brings you outside yourself, which can be a very refreshing change for those of us who spend too much time walking inner paths...

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I walk barefoot everywhere. It is my way. It is an exercise in Mindfulness meditation, and so much more.

When you walk with shoes on, every step is almost the same, and you are taken away from the moment. When you walk barefoot, every step is different. It grounds me. It keeps me grounded.

In the space of 24 hours, I have been stung on the soles of my feet by a wasp (twice) and two bees, and still I continue to walk barefoot unflinchingly. I have picked pieces of broken glass from my feet. I have trekked through rugged tracks in the Flinders Ranges barefoot, the weathered leathered flesh of my soles communing with rocks a billion years old.

I say all of this primarily to those who would enforce their wish for me to wear shoes in certain public places. Walking barefoot is my way of life. It is as important to me as holy communion is to a Catholic, Ramadan is to a Muslim, and bovines are to Hindus. Please, let me walk barefoot...

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

@Silenus hi thanks for your support... Each say is a battle... It's basically like preparing for the storm that lay ahead... Bunkering down and letting mother nature do its worst... It's inevitable...
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