Writing as Therapy

10 Nov

As an art therapy major, I really believe in the power of the art-making process to heal and provide an alternate form of expression. Sometimes you can’t say in words what you can paint. But I also believe in the power of writing. I’m never going to publish anything, and I don’t write poetry or fiction. What I write is what I feel, what I experience, and it’s all true. And it’s all for me. I write for myself, and for no one else. If someone happens to read it, that’s great. But I don’t have this blog so that everyone can find it and read my words. Mostly they’re not that important, anyway.

Writing for me is a kind of therapy. I don’t always have the chance to go to the art buidling and work on purely creative projects. I often get too wrapped up in everyday life to sit back and take time out for myself. I think that’s a major reason why I started this blog. I just wanted a space where I could write whatever I want, whenever I want. And having a blog is an easy, convenient way to do that. I can take a quick break from studying and paper writing to vent about things, and then get back to work. It doesn’t take very long. And while it’s not as labor-intensive as a handwritten journal, it’s still there, and it’s still personal and meaningful. Just because it’s not tangible evidence doesn’t mean it’s not legit. I could print this out, and instantly it would be a real thing.

If my writing could one day jeapordize my chances at getting into grad school or getting a job, that’s sad, my friends. I think the world has become too nosy; we shouldn’t have to know every little thing about prospective workers. Private time is just that: private. Sure, there is a certain image you want to project with your employees, but I think it’s unethical to go searching for them on the Internet. Everyone makes mistakes, and just because things were screwed up in the past doesn’t mean they still are. It’s the same as if a potential employer came into my home, inspected all my furniture and clothes and looked in my refrigerator, and read my journal. This is not an episode of Cribs! This is life, and this is what I think. I’m choosing to put it out there, on the Internet, because I want to. I don’t feel like I’m hurting anyone else, and people can choose not to read it if they want. Or they can. Whatever.

You really have to be careful about what you put on the Internet these days because anyone can find it. The Internet is vast, but you can find things if you look hard enough for them. While I certainly enjoy seeing that people have found my blog, they’re not the reason I do this. I don’t write for anyone but myself. I mean, it’s great that people visit and they read my blog, but it’s for me. It’s out there in the public domain, sure, but it’s still mine. I’m not asking for anything; I’m simply putting myself out there. I write because it makes me feel better. Sometimes it gets really personal, but that’s what I need at the time. Sometimes I’m not inspired. Sometimes I want to share something really cool that I’ve found. But mostly, it just makes me feel better to get it all out. To know that maybe, someday, someone might find it, and know that I feel the same way they do, and that will make them feel better. Who knows, it might not do anything for anyone. But it does something for me, and that’s what matters. I’m simply writing as a form of therapy. You can’t keep everything bottled up inside, and writing helps. When I feel like I can’t talk to anyone else about things, I write. 

I don’t want to have to censor my blog for fear of Big Brother watching, or…something. I don’t know. I want to write because I want to write. Yeah, sometimes it’s crap. Yeah, it’s mostly personal. But it’s me, and I can’t be any other way. My blog is me. I put a lot of it out there, but not everything. You’d be surprised how much there is you don’t know. Freedom of speech comes with the freedom of silence, too.

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