Something about sitting in front of this screen just blanks my brain of any thought other than what I should be doing otherwise. I suppose it helps me be more productive in the end, but I�ve lost touch with a part of myself when I don�t write, and I certainly haven�t been writing much.
It�s not just the guilt of what else I have to do but the knowledge that it is far too easy for me to become absorbed in all that is negative. I can�t begin to count the number of times I�ve been told by writers, therapists, and friends how therapeutic writing is, and I believed that without question for a long time.
I can�t pinpoint when I first realized it was not always the cathartic experience I was lead to believe, probably because it was something that slowly seeped into my awareness until it materialized into full comprehension. Until then, I would write and write, particularly when I was angry or blue, only to find myself feeling more intense and unsettled.
That�s not to say keeping a journal can�t be a beneficial tool for problem-solving and contentment in life. Often, it has worked that way for me, and I imagine there is abundant research to back up the advantages of writing. Unfortunately, I came to a point where my darkness shadowed even the restorative nature of that process. Like the proverbial snake eating its own tail, I had turned so far inward, that the act only furthered my self-consumption. I was no longer spilling sadness and despair on the page to be done with it or to find clarity. It was a source of further self-pity.
Once I fully understood the negative cycle, I quit altogether for weeks. Though I have gone much longer without writing in a journal, I never went so long during emotional upheaval. When I finally wrote again, I focused on solutions and what I could actually accomplish, rather than sulking and self-flagellating. This was the course I took in everyday life too, not just through words. My thought process, my words, and my efforts were all directed toward positive action as opposed to the previous stagnation and depression.
I wish I had answers for people like me, who are currently in the place I was before this goofy enlightenment of mine. Knowing where I was though, I am aware even my future self could not have snapped me out of that funk. Like a petulant child, it was a mistake I had to make on my own, and there was no other way to learn the lesson. Maybe this awareness will help me be more able to learn from others� experiences, so their pain will serve more purpose than their own understanding. I would like to think my own life may be an example for others, so just one other person won�t have to learn the hard way. In the end, the important thing is I finally did figure it out, and I�m not the miserable person I was. At least, I hope
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One Year Ago Today:
