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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

It’s dark and gloomy

and I’m feeling very moody

I just don’t know what to do

if only I was just like you

i feel like a loner

that doesn’t exist

abandoned and thrown out

is how I feel

it doesn’t matter anymore

no one cares

its ok I’ll just be alone

ive been like this all my life

so it doesn’t make any difference

peopke tell me it takes time

you need to not be so reliant on others

it it doesn’t matter anymore

I feel like I have no purpose to be here

i just wish I was somewhere else

but no one understands

the hole gets bigger

the screams get louder

the light gets smaller and smaller

and the darkness takes over

im angry frustrated hurt emotional

its hard to explain

the words don’t come out

it’s too late it doesn’t matter anymore

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

@BlueBay 💕💜💕

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

@BlueBay

hello @Silenus, @Maggie, @eudemonism, @Mazarita

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

what is this fear

of people

why exaggerate

potential danger

why does this apply

to so many situations

what, the apprehension

of threat everywhere

in the sky and

on buses

walking streets

in broad daylight

attuned to

intricate sound

aware with

peripheral vision

what, this thing

that drives me

when making friends

to back away

so suddenly.

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Little girl scared and shy

Is hiding in the cupboard, why?

A monster looms just outside

Looking around as the little girl cries.

He gets closer to her place she wishes she could fly into outta space.

Suddenly the door flies open

She sits really still but she knows it's no use as his mouth turns into a horrible grin

She screams as he takes her away

After what seemed like an eternity of terror he puts her back in her room and closes the door.

She grabs her teddy and hides under the bed for fear that the monster will grab her again.

Soon her mother is home and she feels safe for a while but her brother is in hospital and her mother will not stay long.

With the monster watching her she can not tell her mother what he has done.

They go to the shops to get ice cream and the monster goes unnoticed because to everyone else he is her loving father.

Every day the little girl runs and hides but the monster always finds her.

Then one day while the monster is hurting her someone comes in and sees what he is doing.

The monster is taken away and the little girl is safe.

Her mother is sad that he hurt her and the sadness is overwhelming so the mother has to go to hospital and the little girl is taken to live with strangers.

They little girl was told she would be safe but they were wrong alot of the houses she went to had monsters in them to and they all hurt her in different ways.

The girl not so little anymore is finally allowed to go back to her mother and be with her brothers and sisters.

She thought she was safe but she was wrong the mother was different and let a monster in the house.

But this time she couldn't run and hide.

She had to be brave and let the monster hurt her so he didn't hurt her sisters instead.

Soon her mother got really sick and when the girl called for help the monster hurt her real bad

The girl went back to living with strangers

Some had monsters and some didn't but the girl didn't care anymore she was very sad

When her friend died she tried to leave the world and gain her own wings.

It didn't work but she did get to be with her brothers and sisters again

Soon they all went back to her mother the girl was just 12 and felt like a mother of 5.

When she started high school she didn't care about herself anymore. She kept herself alive for her siblings but destroyed what was left of her inner child and left it behind.

She soon met a boy at her school who helped show her that her life could improve.

With him at her side she went on to graduate high school.

But he went away for uni and she started to go down hill till her new saving grace was announced her little bundle of joy in blue.

Soon she felt life good but she still struggled with the demons of her past.

Then they let her first monster go free and now she just wants to keep her little boy safe but she wonders would he be better off if she grew wings and watch over him from afar.

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Seasons come and seasons go

But my love for you will only grow

As you get taller and older

Our show of affection will change

But our bond will always be maintained

You are not only my son

You are my saving grace

My guardian angel

And I promise to always keep you safe

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Ten little fingers

And ten little toes

And giggly laughter where ever you go

Even in the dark you find the light

You are the joy in my life

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Sitting in a corner

Crying all alone

A little child longs to be held

To have someone say it is alright

To have someone to cuddle them tight

But still they look into the emptiness

Scared and unloved

She screams into the darkness hoping to be heard

But still she sits the forgotten in the dark

She screams till her voice is no more

Then she curls up in a ball

No come to rescue her

Cause no one heard her screams

That child is the inner child of me

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

I wish that iIhad a time machine

So I could go back in time and protect the younger me

Maybe if she had someone who loved her

I would not be such a failure

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

@Former-Member

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