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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

Cheers, @Mulgajane!

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

I have fallen in to a shaft of chaos

Where everything thing is never as it seems

Everytime I think I hit rock bottom the floor gives way again

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

This is my broken alleluia song
I have no place to call my home
No family to call my own
I have a history stained by sin
A distressing state I'm in
A flower doesn't shrink in shame
At the mention of my name
The stars in the sky don't pass me by
Even when I have to cry
My broken alleluia song
No matter what the future brings
I will always hear the magpie sing
It doesn't matter what's being said
Or the chatter inside my head
I will never keep pace
With the human race
My broken alleluia song
My broken alleluia song

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

❤️ @Maggie ....

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

I'm a little bit upset about the position I've found myself in, I feel my journey through the mental health system has degraded me, as much as it has helped lift me up.

I've really found myself over the last twelve years, it's been a slow and steady process, of working out who I am, and what I really need and want. It has taken me to all sorts of places.

My life and the world around me, - society as I know it...

I'm not sure what my meaning and purpose is, I suppose I do what I need and want too, so I can survive and live the best life possible, however it does seem futile at times. And I've come to realize, that I'm not going to be alive forever, and nothing has really worked out, how I ideally wanted it too.

It's not all bad... And it's not all good... - I've really had to push myself at every stage of my life, too push for a better understanding, more wisdom and insight. And too put others first in my mind, and too learn new concepts, theories and philosophies, so I could move forward and make it to the to stage of my life.

Life is the art of survival... And in all honesty... It ain't much different then the cave man times...

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Tears have doused the laval flow

That erupted in my chest

And melted the breath out of me

Yet again the jumble of words

Tied my tongue to my throat

And they tumbled out backwards

Forever misunderstood, misguided, misconstrued, missing & multiplicity staining the page,

Knees scraped from apologies stuck like gum to the bottom of my shoes,

Criss-cross lashes mark the multitude of worldly sins spoken,

Flesh feels no sting nor electric jolt of nervous fibres,

Pain is but a four letter word to describe emotions which don't exist here,

For feeling comes with cautions,

Roadblocks to another place,

Unattainable yet beautiful,

Which will never be the end of this tale

For although the fire is doused for now,

The molten lava has set the heart in stone,

And asphyxiated the brain of it's beloved oxygen,

There is nothing left but to pick up the charred, molten mess

And close the stone eyes that stare forevermore

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

@Sans911

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

@Sans911💜💜💜

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Nowhere to turn

Every thought inside me churns

Have I become this hard to see

Clearly invisible to everyone but me

Maybe my darkness

Has built a wall

somewhere I hide

Afraid of it all

Beyond trying

Always crying

Have I become this hard to see

I know I've lost my way

I don't even like the light of day

My soul is broken

Too many empty words spoken

It seems humanity

Has no place for me

Have I become this hard to see

Clearly invisible to everyone but me

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

The dancing light reflecting off the curves and arcs of the waters surface, has a
magic that is real.
The radiating warmth from a giant nuclear reactor, has a soothing, healing feel.
The venting circulation of a celestial oxygenator, has a soft touch from which we
we breathe.
The variable voltage in the membrane of cerebral cells, gives us the focus we that
believe.
We hear tiny vibrations & process miniature chemical reactions on our tongues & in
our nose.
So much magic, so much wonder, in a constant looping flow.

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