Writing as Therapy

I have looked over some of my other posts, and I'm shocked at how depressing some of them are.  The thing that shocks me is that, honestly, I'm not depressed.  I'm actually a whole lot happier then I've been in a while.

Sure, life isn't perfect.  Perfection is an impossible ideal to achieve.  My life is still complicated.  There are things going on that I have no control over, but I deal. 

One of the things that has helped me deal is doing this, writing. 

My words on page seem to convey my inner voice so much better then the words I speak.  When communicating verbally I tend to stutter and stammer, trying to find the right words, the right meaning, but when I write...

I have always enjoyed writing.  Anyone who knew my in junior high probably remembers me writing the "Claw" stories*.  Writing has been one of the few constants in my life.  Even when writing about some Friday the 13th-esque killer stalking the small town of Spirit Lake, I found the actually act of creating a story a way to center myself.  I don't forget my problems, I just calm myself down enough where I can deal with them. 

Now that I've decided to basically create an online diary, I have found a new way to expel all the bottled up craziness trapped in my brain.  When my voice fails me, my fingers take over, and I can clearly convey everything that seems to be blocking me up. 

I better stop there, because I basically just described writing as a mental form of Ex Lax...

* For anyone who remembers "The Claw", check out the old "Spirit Lake" series I wrote over on SoapSudz.  Basically it's my grown up "remake" of all those old, barely readable stories that were scribbled on who knows how many notebook pages.  The link to SoapSudz is on the side bar.  When you get there, click on the tags for Spirit Lake.