Writing is one of the best ways for an individual to express themselves. Your thoughts, feelings, fears, problems and concerns can flow almost effortlessly across the tablet or your computer screen. It is like releasing all the pain, distress, anger, and fear, but in a healthy way.

Writing is one of the best ways for an individual to express themselves. Your thoughts, feelings, fears, problems and concerns can flow almost effortlessly across the tablet or your computer screen. It is like releasing all the pain, distress, anger, and fear, but in a healthy way.

I have discovered a lot about myself through writing.

I can look back at myself and see I have always used it as a therapy. I never went to a doctor to actually have them tell me to use it as a therapy, I just did it.

I wrote letters to my first real love when he broke my heart. Some I mailed, but some I kept. The ones that I spewed venom in were a part of my soul. I kept them and sent some letters that still expressed my anger, but in a calmer, more meaningful way. I was already hurt, and in a strange way, I did and didn‘t want to hurt him. It sounds strange, but it helped me grow as a person and as a writer.

Expression of hurt through paper or verbally, is something you want to be careful with because you can’t take back what you say.

I can pass him on the street now and say hello without hurt feelings. It doesn’t bother me. Writing those letters helped me heal inside. It helped me understand myself better and see myself in a whole new light.

When my son was first diagnosed as having Autism, writing became a therapy for me. Later on, I realized how much I loved to write and I could be a better writer.

In 1998, my son was diagnosed as having Autism, then as having Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder and Pervasive Developmental Disorder. I was shocked.

I went through stages of anger and pity. I had once thought,
“Why me, Lord? Why my son?” As time passed, I was able to deal with it better. I now say, “Why not me?” I do not look at my son with pity, but with love just as all mothers do. He is his own person with his own personality and querks, just like any other child. He is not a burden but a blessing.

I now look on many things in life differently. I have a terrific husband, wonderful son, and a great marriage and family life. I wonder how different things would have been if I hadn’t used writing as a therapy?

I discovered a love for the written word when I was young and shall carry it with me for the rest of my life. I can now open up and share my feelings about issues. I don’t have to write it anymore. I am in control. I do not have to keep things bottled up on the inside waiting to erupt like a volcano.

Yes, my writing is my therapy. It is more than that now, more like an addiction.