I write a journal. I have an app on my phone and as thoughts pop into my head I jot them down. I like writing, always have done ever since I first learned to write at school In Stanley. I love the way that in expressing a situation through my own words, words that I have chosen and pulled into being, I am taking ownership of it. It becomes more mine than ever before.
I think through writing. It is much more than writing my thoughts on a page. The very act of writing is part of my thinking process. I can ponder and develop a thought on the screen, repeating and rephrasing as I choose the precise words to express how I feel. I add a time stamp to the thoughts that I note down throughout the day. I see development through the day and patterns over the weeks. Journalling is very satisfying. After a session with Sam my homework is always to have a good think about what we've talked about. These sessions are never chats over coffee about holidays in the sunshine. They are conversations with myself, facilitated by a specialist trauma therapist, about deeply painful events that mostly took place decades ago. Many of the seemingly forgotten details of which are taking their first glimpse of daylight since the incident occurred. To then, in the valuable time between sessions, capture those descriptions of traumatic incidents in words on my page, to ponder, process and own those situations as part of my life narrative. To look at them from every angle. To consider how they have affected me during the years since the occurrence and to recognise what hold they still have on me now is a healthy stride towards healing. Words are so easily lost in the air. Trains of thought are disturbed. Words on a page on the phone in my hand are there and infront of me. I've caught them.
It's a cathartic experience. As I write the words, I'm letting go of that terrible thing that has been burdening me for so very long. So many times, after writing down the detailed description of an incident, when the final full stop is placed and I click "save", I feel so much better. Lighter. A burden released.
During bad moments, when I feel bogged down by the size of my journey, I can go back through my journal and be encouraged by just how far I have come. I look at entries about things that literally gripped me with fear that no longer have a hold on me. Remember beer and me? I blogged about it some time ago. Someone who treated me very badly was also a beer drinker. He smelled of beer. Beer frightened me. The smell of beer frightened me. I viewed beer drinkers with suspicion and fear.
After Sam and I had identified and explored this situation... ok we pulled it out by its roots and left it to dry in the heat of the day, my homework was to drink beer. For some this would be the dream homework. For me it was an immensely tough assignment.
The abuser drank beer from a bottle, I knew my beer had to be from a bottle too. In my journal I recorded the struggles I had in visiting the beer aisle in the supermarket. Selecting a bottle. Touching it. Picking it up and putting it in my trolley. It stood in the kitchen for days before I could chill it, open it, pour it, drink it. It was indeed a hard assignment. Now, I wonder what all the fuss was about. I can pickup and drink a bottle of beer whenever I choose to. Now it is just another alcoholic drink and receives the same treatment as all the other drinks do. I get such great encouragement from reading about the beer saga, because I did it. I overcame everything that the beer was connected with. If I can get over this hurdle, I am surely going to get over all of the others thst I meet along the way.
I keep a record of my monthly cycles. I always note that PMS and PTSD are bad companions. Bitch days. I keep no record of chocolate consumed under the influence of female hormones! I keep a record of my sleep - or lack of it. I struggle with sleep and staying asleep. Looking back through my journals I can see patterns and note what has led to nights with better sleep. I write down my dreams and nightmares. This has been very helpful in a number of ways. In catching the storyline of a nightmare and pinning it down on a page it doesn't bother me throughout the day. It is as if I'm telling the nightmare "this far and no further" Writing down my dreams, nightmares, flashbacks, intrusive thoughts gives me an opportunity to have a good look at them. To see what my body is telling me through this expression of suppressed memories. Just a month or so ago I was surprised by a dream about something that happened a very very long time ago. I took note of it and had a good think. Over the days that followed I found a whole shed load of memories connected to that one dream that really do need further unpacking with Sam in the safety and structure of some trauma therapy sessions. I don't hold back in journalling my feelings. If I'm feeling totally rubbish I let my journal know about it. Oh yes, those words can be mighty strong. Then, after an outpouring of fruity words, often accompanied by tears, I (sometimes) ask myself what I can do to improve my mood. I scroll back to previous bad moments, look at the positive photos that I have included and am reminded that crap feelings do pass and that a walk beside the river or a phone call with a good friend helped last time and probably will help this time too. Journalling is a very special part of my healing journey, I'm so glad that I can take time to write, explore, learn from and settle my thoughts on a page and keep a record of them for my future growth.
Try it for yourself?
Write down a few words about how you're feeling. Do it again tomorrow. And the next day ... you might get hooked too!
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