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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

This is my life... a bipolar brain that does not stop versus a hypermobile body that regularly is forced to stop... this battlefield of my body and mind... ever and always at conflict... here am I in the bunker in the middle, copping fire from all sides...

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

You should never be lazy exercising your morality, your innate sense of right and wrong...

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

The greatest gift imaginable is the one we have already been given... to be alive at all is this immeasurable gift... every day, I offer each breath of my body as a sigh of gratitude for this gift of life...

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Some more random thoughts...

Never let artists run a business... the art interferes with the business, and the business interferes with the art...

Talk first, yell second... be silent most of all...

The perfect couple... you find ways of being alone together and together apart, and everything in between...

Put very simply, life is all about stripping away the layers of projection, indoctrination and social programming that rule us every day, in order to live a truly honest life rather than a second hand life of ever-repeating patterns...

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Sending a hug to you this morning @BlueBay 🙂

Happy vibes beaming to you all...

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Invisible Pain
-----------------------

If I had a tumour on my face,
My pain you would embrace;
There wouldn't be any doubt,
No finger point or righteous pout.

But my hurt is inside my brain,
Constantly carrying invisible pain;
You can't see it, you are flying blind,
This invisible pain, inside my mind.

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Good night... sleep well... and dream sweetly of sour wood apples...

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

A Poem I just thought of in my time of tears, mentally and physically not well today:

If Only ......

If only I could change things

and wipe away the tears

If only I could forget the past

along with all the fears

If only the sun would shine on me

and bring me everything

But all i feel right now is darkness

If only ......

If only someone could lift me up

from the darkness i am in

and take me to the where sun shines

and let the worries beam away

There is no rainbow right now

there is no sun for me

'cause all i see right now

is darkness doom and down

If only others would understand

and see where I've been

they would wrap their arms around me

and keep me safe from harm

If only i could voice this fear

and let it be heard by me

I wish i could let it all out

If only I could be ........

In response to: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Gentle hugs @BlueBay

Your beautiful poem... so heartfelt... so pure an expression of what the darkness is like...

Thank you for sharing this gift... the acceptance of the gift honours the giver...

More gentle hugs...

You inspired me to write a poem just now... I offer this modest gift in return... hugs and happy vibes beaming to you...

~~~~~~~ ♤♧♢♡ ~~~~~~~

The Light
----------------

I too spend time in the darkness...
It is a mean investment, but sometimes necessary...
For too long, we are bathed in the cold harsh reality of light...
We descend into the cold harsh reality of darkness...

The darkness consumes us and we are consumed by it...
Our inner flame flickers, fighting bravely, sputters, goes out...
The embers cool and fade to darkest of dark dead coal...
The darkness is complete; there is no you-me-us-them; only darkness Eternal...

We look for that faint will-o'-the-wisp in the distance...
Barely discernible from the uniform uncaring darkness...
Is it a foolish fire, a figment of our imagination, perhaps a mirage...
Or just random firing of our starved optic nerve...

Is it hallucination...
Vexation...
Cessation...
Above our station...

We doubt the light exists at all; if it did, we wouldn't darkness deserve...
Never again to be bathed in golden light so warm and bright and large...
We look for that faint will-o'-the-wisp in the distance...
Barely discernible from the uniform uncaring darkness...

We look for ways to dig our way out of this deep dark hole...
But even brave hope is starved and dies from darkness this internal...
The darkness consumes us and we are consumed by it...
Our inner flame flickers, fighting bravely, sputters, goes out...

From outside or inside, finally a spark is seen in the dead of Eternal night...
We return to the light in all its magnificence and starkness...
I too spend time in the darkness...
It is a mean investment, but sometimes necessary...

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

Re: Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Oh @Silenus

now i am crying. your writing is so much what I am in at the moment. not sure if yuou realised but i changed my name on here from (sadgirl) to bluebay . supposed to be a positive step - nothing positive at the moment. 😞

thank you for your kind words and hugs. xxx

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