Writing, a quiet observation

There is something about words, something fluid, warm, noble and pure.

Just a short while ago I was again reminded of my love for anything written, and how came to be.

Early on in life I was already a dedicated library lover. Living above one undoubtedly eased the path towards it, and almost instantly I became a bibliophile. Countless hours and days were spent searching and nurturing books.

When my Dutch language teacher put me on the spot in front of the whole class when I was 14 years old, he made me admit blame for a silly grammatical mistake, asking me if I had any dictionaries at home, and if so, why they weren’t on my desk when I wrote that particular essay. While I already spent half my childhood with a book in my hands, he taught me about the artistry of words by not only reading and writing even more, but by deliberately watching my words while I was writing. Many years later, I still value what he unintentionally did for me.

“Find out the reason that commands you to write;
see whether it has spread its roots into the very depth of your heart;
confess to yourself you would have to die if you were forbidden to write.”

(Rainer Maria Rilke)

Just as unwittingly, my illness came to be and writing took centre stage once more. Gone were the days of writing poetry for library events, present became the need to express what physically went on within me. Spreading awareness about MS by writing and helping the outside world see what life with a neurodegenerative illness is like, it certainly helped me do just that. I was firmly put on the road to writing once more, and I never looked back since.

I now daydream of writing a book, the physical act of writing, pen in hand, copy book ready, dreaming of what would happen next. Words flowing from my fingers onto my keyboard, a soft, silent murmur getting louder, a brief flicker of what’s taking place inside my unconscious mind.

“There is nothing to writing.
All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

(Ernest Hemingway)

I am now a firm believer of writing therapy; seeing things written down makes whatever goes in your mind, clearer. What you wrote cannot be unsaid in your mind, but it is up to you whether you want to share or not. It’s the first step in taking ownership of your thoughts, and your mind. The only thing you need is time, pen, paper or laptop, and the willingness to address what you’re struggling with.

Scientific research shows that writing can help boost your immune system. Even specific illnesses and/or symptoms caused by depression, anxiety and traumatic experiences can be dealt with by putting pen to paper. In my case, dealing with the aftermath of being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, subsequent relationship issues and the passing away of my only sibling, writing has helped so much that my GP now acknowledges that I am better equipped to deal with MS symptoms.

“I love writing. I love the swirl and swing of words
as they tangle with human emotions.”

(James A. Michener)

Many people experience paper as a very willing ear that listens without judging. The writer is in control of what happens next, it doesn’t require you to be there at a specific time or place. From studying Counselling, I was already aware of the many benefits of writing, but it was not until I mentally dedicated myself to pen and paper, that I realised the potential of writing therapy.

“Tears are words that need to be written.”
(Paulo Coelho)

Slowly but surely writing became a drug, not only one that is very easy to sustain, but one that doesn’t harm anyone. Bad memories disappeared; new, fresh and good ones are being created. What I do about running into bad memories is totally independent of what therapists would tell me to do. I can leave writing for another day, or choose to address it now. I can choose to keep what I wrote in a diary, or I can throw it into the garbage.

For people uninterested in seeking a therapist to tackle emotional issues, writing can indeed be very helpful, either as a stepping stone towards real-life therapy, or towards better insight in one’s mind. Any type of behaviour or emotion can be put to paper without fearing the outside world will find you weird or unable to communicate properly.

“Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.”
(William Wordsworth)

Writing now is a daily reflection, a midnight thought turned into inspiration. By reading even more, writing can be greatly improved. Rereading old blog posts and catching one or two grammar issues turns me into my own critic, one that is not harsh but shows me that writing is a conscious process of unconscious ideas.

I don’t have to be a female Shakespeare or Tennyson, a Joyce or Yeats. As long as my mind can be improved upon by writing daily, my eyes will remain the only witness they always were: quiet, respectful and non-judgmental.

For more info on writing in general, please visit:
http://writing.ie

For more info on writing therapy, please visit these websites:
http://journaltherapy.com/journaltherapy/
http://twinstitute.net/
http://www.psychologytools.org/writing-therapy.html
http://www.createwritenow.com/
http://apt.rcpsych.org/content/11/5/338
http://psychcentral.com/lib/the-health-benefits-of-journaling/

Related articles where James Joyce is mentioned:

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About Billie ThumbnailAbout Willeke

Neurologically challenged by MS and personally by her will to succeed, Willeke is a disability awareness advocate seeking to improve neurological/MS services in Ireland. By highlighting difficult issues that come with such a diagnosis, she hopes her tenacity can bring some dignity to people most in need of a modern, inclusive healthcare system that looks after every aspect of life.

© WVE and Ireland, MS and Me, 2011-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to WVE and Ireland, MS and Me with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

30 thoughts on “Writing, a quiet observation

  1. Pingback: Paper dreams
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