Writing As Therapy

When Writing Saves Your Life

I’ve been writing since before I can remember. It’s not just a hobby or a pastime to me; it’s a way of life. There are days when I haven’t written anything, because my depression has been too bad, but lately, I have noticed that on these days, I tend to feel even worse. On these days, I feel like I have not only not written, but that I have failed myself.

The truth is that writing sets me free. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the truth. I love writing; I am a wordsmith. I find the act of putting words in a certain order so as to capture the beauty in nature, and the happiness or pain of the human condition so powerful. It’s intoxicating.

Those of you who know me, know that I do not drink, or smoke, or engage in any illegal (or legal) drug taking. I don’t know how it feels to have those things in your system, but I firmly believe that it probably feels a little like that when I write. Except that I am thinking clearly and won’t get a hangover the following day.

I write because I love it. I write, because sometimes speaking just isn’t enough. Weaving words together on a page has a beauty all of it’s own, and the fact that I get to do that, is something that I will be forever grateful for.

The thing is, when I am writing, I can really let go of my emotions. I can let myself be me, and seeing as ‘me’ is usually someone that tries to hide, it is amazingly, wonderfully freeing.

To me, writing is as essential as breathing, and it is something that I will never, ever give up. Even if my life should depend on it; because if I cannot write, then there is no point to life.

Writing is what makes me feel alive. It keeps me alive and ensures that I will always be able to get the thoughts (whatever they may be) out of my head.

In short, I can say definitively that writing has saved my life, both physically and spiritually, on more than one occasion.

I would be truly lost without it.