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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: Poem - So, WTF Is Depression?

Thank you Silenus for the compliments about me helping you in some way. You have helped me a lot as well. We help each other. Other people have helped me before so that what is beautiful about social life is that sometimes, people that we meet will help us to better journey along our way.

From you, I have have laerned the importance of being humble.

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

You write the most moving poems @Silenus. Thanks for sharing. Xx

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Thanks my lovelies... huggles. 🙂

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

As I sit here all alone
I can feel each and every bone
The pain the hurt
And all that dirt
You brought up with me

I want to scream punch and cry
And sometimes I wanna say goodbye
I hate you I love you
How can that be

You try to hang onto me
But I have to let you go
For my life is one I only get
And I really need to forget

Music makes me cry
It reminds me of things
I remember bits of my childhood
But not much

Depression is dark deep pain
And what did I gain
Pain hurt abandonment
Tears tears and more tears
I need to stop its breaking me

Again. Again and again
When will this stop.

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

this is what happens when i try to write

this is what happened when i tried to write last night

its alot harder than just mind dumping

BLACK DAY

im standing on the edge of the abyss

and hiding now inside a dream

flames lick at my flesh from below

and nobody can hear me scream

im standing on the edge of the abyss

the place where the earth was destroyed

the guidance of the morning star

will lead our way out of the void

they say demons hide in the darkness

so i follow the bearer of the light

a fallen angel guides the way

to the new day through the night

he was gods favourite angel

and is known by many names

beelzebub satan the devil the beast

the carrier of the torch the keeper of flames

saint michael cast him out of paradise

but men cast him into hell

the snake who tempted us with knowledge

made not a sound as he fell

for he knew he had betrayed god

his master and his friend

so now he sits and he waits

for the fallen to rise again

In response to: this is what happens when i try to write

Poem - Thought Storm

Sometimes, words don't work properly, as the thoughts in our heads race too fast or become ridiculously fragmented beyond our ability to follow. This usually happens to me when my hypomania goes flying way too high - I can no longer keep up with the thoughts. These thought storms just sweep me away, similar in nature to my mood storms, perhaps even the flip side of the same coin...

This poem tries to capture one such thought storm that I had...

Thought Storm

Guilt… storm… regret… rains… down… cold… drops… but… bounces…
back… up… the… drain… …

In response to: Poem - Thought Storm

Poem - I Fell Off The Earth Today

This poem tries to capture what it sometimes feels like for my bipolar hypomania to climb ever higher, especially at the point where you really start to lose your connection with everything around you...

The reality of my thoughts, my moods, replaces the mundane reality of the physical world around me...

I Fell off the Earth Today

I fell off the Earth today,
Lost my balance and floated away;
I tried to grab a branch or rock,
Anything with which my arm to lock;
My desperate flailing did not connect,
As I continued to show gravity no respect;
Higher and higher, I rose and rose,
My next destination? No-one knows;
For a while I calmly enjoyed the view,
Not really caring where I flew;
Thinner and thinner became the atmosphere,
I could no longer breathe, yet showed no fear;
Squinting through the infinite dark of space,
Distance soon will this small Earth erase.

In response to: Poem - I Fell Off The Earth Today

Poem - Fuel

We hear about burning the midnight oil, or burning the candle at both ends, or burning out. I often think of my energy levels and my mood states in terms of burning. Sometimes, there is a tiny flame that sputters and nearly goes out. Other times, it is like the core of an out-of-control nuclear reactor.

The fuel we burn is our own. When we run out of fuel, the highs are transformed to profound lows, until once again we can gather ourselves together, and set the spark to a new pile of fuel...

Fuel

I am the white-hot fire within.
I burn to cleanse,
I burn to destroy,
I burn to create,
I burn as a beacon in the night.

My fuel is my own.

In response to: Poem - Fuel

Poem - Empty

Five months after my mother died, I felt this profound emptiness. This poem, rather succinctly, tries to capture that feeling of emptiness... 🙂

Empty

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Black
Everything is dark now
My heart is aching
My thoughts are racing
My thoughts I hate them

Sensitive Sh..t thoughts
I'm never going to get better am I
Irrational thoughts are creeping in
Go away thoughts forever

Leave me alone
Thoughts
Leave me alone
Behaviour
Leave me alone
Dark deep hole
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