Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Therapy and Blogging...

I logged in this morning to reformat last night's post and lost it.  Sometimes blogger makes me a little pouty.

I was thinking about my visit yesterday with the therapist I first met in 2002 when I was suffering post traumatic stress symptoms relating to our fatal 1997 bus accident. 

Those symptoms have returned.  No big surprise!  There's been a bit of trauma in the last couple years.  Over the last several months there hasn't been trauma.  Having been accustomed to constant bombardment with dramas and traumas, I sometimes feel like I'm constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop

It took me a long time to make the appointment.  First, there's the cost.  Then there's the revisiting of all the things I don't want to revisit.  Then there's fitting the visit into an already busy schedule.  I finally made it to Diane's office yesterday.

Once in her beautifully appointed and restful office, I opened my mouth and the words poured out.  Words about mother and her crazy behavior.  Words about the big paradigm shift we're about to experience when Adam moves to college.  Words about our marriage.  Words about how my job broke my heart in December.  Words about the value of my closest friends.

I didn't know I needed to say those things to someone impartial.  I didn't know I would feel refreshed and cleansed in the saying.  I didn't know some of those things were still painful.  I didn't know how much hope I have for the future.

When I first visited Diane in 2002, we talked about my long-held belief that nice girls don't get mad.  I didn't understand how to be mad and then I didn't understand how to stop being mad.  She recommended that I write whenever I felt strong emotions.  I could do whatever I wanted to do with the written product, she added; the goal wasn't a series of beautifully kept journals.  The goal was to let the process and the freedom of writing begin the healing. 

I hated that advice.  Honestly, how can something as passive as writing result in anything beyond... well, writing?

Still, always wanting to please my mentors or teachers or whomever was in charge in the moment, I did as instructed.  And you know?  She was right. 

I wrote and wrote and wrote.  Most of what I wrote I destroyed.

And I achieved balance and perspective and peace.

Why did I stop writing for myself?

Blogging is a different kind of therapeutic writing.  I read an article at the Scientific American website.  Scientists concur:
Scientists (and writers) have long known about the therapeutic benefits of writing about personal experiences, thoughts and feelings. But besides serving as a stress-coping mechanism, expressive writing produces many physiological benefits. Research shows that it improves memory and sleep, boosts immune cell activity and reduces viral load in AIDS patients, and even speeds healing after surgery...  Unlike a bedside journal, blogging offers the added benefit of receptive readers in similar situations, Morgan explains: “Individuals are connecting to one another and witnessing each other’s expressions—the basis for forming a community.”
Now I just need to throw a notebook and a pen in the drawer next to my bed.  Maybe this time I'll keep what I write.

No comments:

Post a Comment