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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 flowed quietly, so quick it’s the evening. I sit feeling the emotions building. My life so fast, that I missed one at my prime age. Then it was so deep, the trials of life ongoing. He waited a few years. But I couldn’t see an end to the turmoils. So I told him to leave. Behind was memories of sweetness. The years long and tortuous, sick often but fought on. Year after year, he married and had children. Then my friend came. I sat blankly every weekend. So this one too will be gone in only hours. Life goes on. My heart swells.

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

I feel irritated, flipping through the pages. I can't rest. The heavy signs fall on my chest.i want to tell.The innocence of heart and soul. So sweet ,kind and loving. Crushed by random temper. Then my tears flow. Shaken and fragile. The stories start from the beginning again. I know you don't mean to.I know you can't express. I know you are frustrated. Oh. Oh.

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Haven't seen this thread before. Looks good

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Pure, sweet, innocent soul

Do not walk this direction

The impurities of the past will destroy your perfection

Keep walking forward and do not look back

Because once it has a grip it destroys you with imperfections

Ignore the crys of those already stuck

Don't try to save them

You can't help

They will drag you in and push you back till your fight is gone and the light is out of reach.

They are drowning in darkness

They don't care that your a child

If you give them an inch they will take a mile

They will stand on your shoulders and expect you to take the weight

They will climb out of darkness and leave you there to weep

They only want to find the easy way out

You don't matter to them

They don't care for your needs

Just leave there

Quick run the other way

Don't listen to their crys

They will try to guilt you into helping them to get free

They only way for you to be happy is to leave them be

You are an angel spread your wings and be free

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

WOW my darling @Former-Member

soo true my friend xx

and we are here for you as you are here for me

Keep walking forward is the key

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Yea. Not sure if writing can help. Been Looking forward to the evening times recently . It gives me a chance to get away from the screens and to just be alone and rest. And then nod off for the evening. Been having trouble with smokes and withdrawing and the financial burden associated with them ..

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

YOU HURT ME, YOU DID

You hurt me

You hurt me, you did

You hurt me dear biological father

Do you remember what you did

I was only three

A long time ago it was

Did you regret it at all

Did you feel bad when you made me cry

Tell me that you feel bad for what you did

It's okay you don't have to answer

I already know the truth

You don't care about me

You never did

You hurt me

You hurt me, you did

You hurt me dear foster parents

Do any of you remember what you did

I was only a child

But it was long ago

Do any of you regret the actions you did

Did any of you feel bad when you made me cry

Did you care when I almost died

It's okay I already know the truth

None of you cared about me

I was just a dollar sign to you

You hurt me

You hurt me, you did

You hurt me dear friend

Do you know what you did

We were 9

You were my only friend

I know times were tough

But I still needed you I did

Did you think about me before you left

It's still hard for me to accept your death

But it is ok dear friend

I know that you cared

And to be honest

I wanted to go too

I still miss you everyday

And I forgive you for leaving me behind

You hurt me

You hurt me, you did

You hurt me dear uncle

Do you know what you did

I was only 11

That was 15 years ago now

But what you did to me still hurts today

I know you don't care

I know your only regret is I finally told

You thought I would fear you forever

But now the truth is out

And hopefully soon you will regret your actions too

You hurt me

You hurt me, you did

You hurt me dear daddy

Do you know what you did

I know it's hard to accept

And you don't want it to be true

But you said you would be there for me

And I have not heard one word from you

Not even boo

Please talk to me soon

You hurt me

You hurt me, you did

You hurt me dear sister

But I'm not sure you know that you did

I am always there for you sister and our other siblings too

I'm there for you all

I look out for you

I help you as much as I can

But I need help some times too

You may not see the hurt that you cause

When I am there for you but you don't help me

You hurt me

You hurt me, you did

You hurt me dear mother

And you hurt me the worst

You don't even see the hurt that you caused

You pretend everything is fine and you look the other way

You may have cared once and thats what hurts the most

I remember those times buts that's all your love is now

A fading memory

It's being replaced by what you do now

Everytime I have needed you

You let me down

And everytime I forgave you

You would disappoint me again

I may carry on forgiving your mistakes

I may make excuses for you so others don't attack you

But I really do question whether you love me at all

And while I may forgive, I will never forget

My trust in you is extinct

You will never get it back

You complain that I don't let you be alone around my son

But honestly mother can you blame me

My childhood is gone and I will never get it back

I will not let you disappoint my son

Or let him question your love

If you want be in his life you will for once have to be an adult

No one is going to tell you what to do

For me you exist because he wants you to

But you hurt once no matter how small

He will not know you anymore

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

The afternoon light faded, the curtain draw in, the sounds disrupted, my tears flow, twenty eight years gone,. I had to live the way you pushed, I bit my lip, U had no choice. I lived life the way you made. But now It's different. I am out of your catch.It is my life again. But there is no more opportunities. I am fifty. My first love is gone. The truthful one left ten years ago. So I live alone.This is the way meant for me. I fought my hardest. Even near death almost daily. On it goes, may be my life will extinct soon. Because I am alone and meek. Then I feel the warmth at times of the days, that helped me to breath in the frosty streets.

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

The daily battle...

Sometimes i wonder about everything that goes on in my mind . Sometimes i wonder how true and real it all is. Is it justifed or is it not? Dismissing thoughts that lead to away forward. So i can be engulfed with despair and misery just one more time . So often the odds seem to be against me. So often the reasons seem unclear.

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

To my niece who took her own life 6 years ago

too young too leave this world

you were in pain with your life

I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you

I miss you and love you

😢😢

today is not a good for me

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