Obviously, I enjoy writing. I’ve been writing poems, short stories, essays, and notations on life since I was a little girl. I even enjoy writing scholarly articles for my research job, papers for school, and case conceptualizations of my counseling clients. It didn’t occur to me, however, until I was interviewing a young woman for my book that not everyone likes to write. In fact, when I gushed to her about how helpful journaling had been in my recovery from B.E.D., I was shocked to hear her say, “I’ve never liked journaling and never found it helpful even when I did it.” I was totally taken aback. Of course, my brother isn’t particularly interested in writing, so I should have known that it’s not for everyone. But writing is such a huge part of my life that I just don’t know how I would have gotten this far in life without that skill/interest.
Since that’s the world I know, I thought I’d draw from it again today, by sharing with you a poem I wrote in 2006, during my recovery:
“The Pen is Mightier than the Disorder” (haha…like that play on words?!)
Born of my tangled thoughts and frenzied emotions,
the words now rest comfortably on the page for all to see.
They bear witness to my agony
and yet bring peace with their very existence.
Pen in hand, I am stronger than I once was.
The written word has yet to fail me.
Knowing how powerful a tool writing has been for me, I urge you to find your own tool for recovery, something that makes your soul sing and something you feel the urge to turn to again and again. Something that may, at times, feel like a chore, but you feel compelled to do. Maybe it’s playing a musical instrument, running marathons, taking photographs, or painting…whatever it is, find it and use it. Allow your tool to bear witness to your pain, your sorrow, your fears, your joys. Allow it to bring you peace.
Peace, joy, and health.