How Writing Saved Me, “Therapeutically”
When I’d get super emotional, (mostly heart breaks) I would write, poems to be exact. I never knew how truly therapeutic it was to just write a poem. Even when I would have anxiety attacks I would hop on my phone, start a new post and write a poem, it would ease my mind.
There’s magic in words and phrases, in connecting with written words of someone’s life and thoughts in someone’s head.
How can you organize your thoughts into something understandable? Easy, just write. My first encounter with journaling was with Tumblr. At first I I used to be so scared to write, I compared my typed words to typed words of popular people. Why didn’t I just put myself out there, write without compare. How can I put my thoughts out there, it’s always discombobulated, then I found out the joy of journaling — pen and paper journaling.
Just to free write without judgment, and just for me.
Going back to the basics, “for me” — that part. Without the distractions of being on social media. Me and my journaling book.
You do things because you enjoy it, not because it’s something that you have to worry about and struggle with, it’s something that makes you happy.
So here I go, an online journal to freely express my thoughts out in the open.
I appreciate how writing has brought me back to myself. Made me feel home when I could barely could keep my tears back. Emotions are so strong, but writing is stronger. You can definitely feel someone else’s pain through their story. Gain the emotions because every word was spoken, action, thoughts and every detail of the exact moment. Pictures are like cakes — it’s appealing, and what people put out on social media, is just the outer layer of the cake. (the appetizing part). Written words are what’s insides of a cake, the truth if the cake is good or not.
I know that journaling saved me, because of how it has helped me pour my emotions into one spot. Imagine, being your own therapist. I honestly have been through therapy for a few times and my experience with it wasn’t the greatest, or I just needed a different therapist. One main reason was that he couldn’t connect to me, and another reason was that it felt fake. It wasn’t genuine and it came from knowledge from books instead of knowledge from experience. I find that most of the time I could relate to people online sharing the same story as me. Everyone should start doing their own therapy, no one knows you more than you. Imagine sharing your story and helping someone else through their dark times when you were in yours.