Writing is therapeutic for me, but not as a release of stress or tension. Some people run. Some meditate. Others may knit or any other form of what we label a hobby or extra activity outside of housework or general work.
Right now I’m writing the first draft of this posting with pen and paper while having the TV on. There’s a sense of flow and calm from my arm through the pen to the ink on the paper. At times my fingers feel tight from holding the pen, but the need to write overrides any discomfort.
It’s the reason I gave up on long perfectly painted nails, I can’t type with them. Others can, I never reached a comfort with them, so goodbye nails. They weren’t a big enough need for me.
When writing my mind shuts off except for the word being written. Yes, I hear myself clearly – clearer. I become the voice, the one I need to hear more often. I am dedicated and centered on clarity of thought. I am in the moment of what is important to me. My self-expression. I am sharing me without doubt, even knowing that I might not always be received.
I find and have self-freedom when I write. I find and have calm when I write.
Writing is very much like breathing for me. It is part of me whether here for you to read or in my journal pages in private.
Writing is one part of who I am and is in every part of me.