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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 day too day life... Of a, victim to the mental health system... Truth be known... I'm not exactly sure why they inject me in arm muscles with slow release drugs every 28 days... Truth be known... It's like a grueling sentence which has no end... Truth be known... They don't get paid to cure or heal me... Truth be known... There's no money in it for the professionals if they fix me...

I'm not sure why they do what they do me... Perhaps as the public servants they think they're doing a good deed for the bigger picture of society... Bye drugging up the angry, bitter, twisted, disturbed and vengeful victim inside of me... Perhaps the people I needed... To maintain my sanity and well being... Abandoned me... And have hand balled me over to the mental health system... So they could live their lives... Free from the fear of the justified retribution... Which I so badly sought to give them in return... For everything wrong they'd ever done to me... Perhaps they have made me suffer so greatly... Through the means of brain washing and forcing me to become addicted to medication... They can now say... 'I'm well managed' and no longer pose a threat to myself or another member of the community... Who would know? When we live in a world full of deceit and lies? Who would know? When the abusers of society... Always take home the prize of pride (for a job well done) ... For contributing to another's demise?

They are patiently waiting. For me to reveal my true self. So they can claim. I am unwell. Once again. There is no end. Too this journey of torture. I have been forced to travel. They feed from the suffering of others. Too the point of exhaustion. Everyday. To the point of being resentful. Against the roles in society they play. Which without a doubt. Is for a self centered cause. I've given up hope you that any of them. Will learn of the truth. Or change their ways. It is me, myself and I... Until the end of my days...

Eude.

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Perhaps they've wanted it... Too about the wrong... Within me... And not the wrong... Within the world... Perhaps they know... A guilty man... Is easily destroyed... Bye the sands of time... Guilty of being sensitive... Guilty of being betrayed... Guilty of having flaws and blemishes... Guilty of being afraid...

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Loved writing this one... hahaha...

Wisdom Through Your Bellybutton And Into Your Gut
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I, like every other human being,
Have a bellybutton,
A navel,
A little hole in my belly.

My favourite words when I was a child
Were "Hvad er det?"
(Danish, my mother tongue)
Translation:
"What's that?"

I wanted to know everything.
My brain was a sponge,
And my senses were supercharged
To feed it.

"What's that?"
I asked, pointing to my bellybutton.

A pause for thought from parent.

"It's where we used to feed you when you were in mummy's belly."

An answer!
Brainsponge was temporarily sated.
There was much to think about.

This added to and enhanced my reality.

For a while afterwards,
I used to walk around
With a small dollop
Of mashed potato
In my bellybutton.

You know,
In case I got hungry later.

Until parent discovered
My cunningly thought out plan
And added to and enhanced my reality.

Then there were "bacteria"
For brainsponge to think about
And a poor empty bellybutton.

Now, of course,
A man of science
(A child no more?)
I know that my bellybutton
Is a reminder
That I am a placental mammal.

Isn't it funny
How often the "facts"
Of our reality change,
And yet we still trust
Our current reality
With blind unshaking faith?

"Hvad er det?"
"What's that?"

Will never leave my vocabulary.

Thank you, bellybutton.
You taught me well.

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Haha, love that one, @Silenus. I too was a bit interested in my belly button when I was very young. It's a funny little thing, after all! And then there was the day when (sitting in some odd position, no doubt), I became convinced that it had disappeared! It didn't last for long and then there it was again. But I remained convinced for a while (and maybe even now?) that, even if just for a few moments, my belly button disappeared.

This part of your poem is profound:

Isn't it funny
How often the "facts"
Of our reality change,
And yet we still trust
Our current reality
With blind unshaking faith?

I wonder what 'facts' (a massive accumulation of them at this stage!), I now trust without question. An interesting question.

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Hahaha... cheers, @Mazarita 🙂

I always love to slip a bit of wisdom in with the spoonfuls of sugar...

But yes... this poem is a very important one for me. It strikes at the heart of my approach to life...

Question everything... question even the need to question...

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Questions are okay by me too, @Silenus. It helps me also to know that questions very often lead mystery. I have a great respect for the mystery of life and death and the whole damn thing. Hugs!

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

On that quote, @Mazarita ...

------
Isn't it funny
How often the "facts"
Of our reality change,
And yet we still trust
Our current reality
With blind unshaking faith?
------

I think we have an advantage here... us peeps on the edge of the human experience... our realities have been tested, shaken to the core, even shattered, many times... we understand something of alternate realities, of not holding on to things too tightly, and perhaps also of holding on to one or two things for dear life...

My reality is as a house of cards, where the slightest questioning breeze may knock it over... and then I start whistling... hahaha...

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

She has a shadow
it follows her around everyday
it haunts her in her sleep
it haunts her in every way

darkness fills her heart, it fills her soul
the darkness swollows her whole
it creeps into her eyes
but she will tell you shes fine

behind the smile there are tears
inside her heart there hold many fears
in her eyes the darkness sits there
theres no strength left, only despair

if you listen closley, you will hear pain
and right now shes struggling to stay sane

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Most especially, we must learn to love our weakness...

Gentle hugs, @outlander

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

thanks @Silenus

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