Why you might consider Journalling……

Jornal smoking seriously damagesIt’s not some namby-pamby-airy-fairy activity for navel gazing. Well, to be fair it can be- but it’s a bit like saying all dogs of a certain breed are dangerous; it’s down to the owner/ circumstances./ attitude/ perception and all that jazz.

If you jot down your thoughts in away which is open- minded and curious then I would wager, it might just help. Why not try? What have you got to lose? If your head is full to bursting, your thoughts and problems tying you down to the hamster wheel of life? Your body raging under the skin of facade, bones aching with the strain of all that pressure, every sinew straining towards snapping; actually you probably feel like you might actually combust ?

Then my friend( in the therapeutic sense of course), you are most definitely overloaded! Take action. A vent of some kind is recommended, preferably one which doesn’t hurt yourself or cause distress or damage to others or property……

If talking about it to someone like me, is a step too far, then consider using your own inner guide, you know, that wise one inside you who has advised, counselled countless friends, colleagues and acquaintances to good effect in the past. You have experience- use it to help unburden or problem solve your own load for a change.

As a person like you, and also as a professional, I can suggest you might think about writing a bit of it down as a venting method initially. You would be surprised where it can lead you- insight previously dormant can pop up and sock you in the eye- the light bulb moment can be yours.

A very sceptical friend of mine, having difficult times, who found a jotting months later to be just that- well, a catalyst for change anyway. Her then, angry, sad, hurt, confused, thought scribbled on the back of a fag packet, was later to change her mind about the efficacy of getting something down on paper. Finding the said, crumpled empty pack at the bottom of her skip of a handbag ( most of my friends have skips for handbags , so I will offend them all, no one will feel singled out).

She had written the date( three months previously), and in bold green ink next to the warning about how smoking can ‘seriously damage your health’- had written ‘ I am damaged beyond belief, but not by fags, I will never trust another man as long as I live!’

As she read, she remembered how bad she had felt the, the searing pain, but from a distance.  Yes, still felt, but surprisingly, not quite so intense this 3 months later. She had written these words sober, whilst sitting on a tube train enroute home from work. Those green inked words conjured up the memory.

She then recalled her reflection in the black mirror of the tube train window rattling along the Northern line, or was it the Central line- no matter. Staring back at herself, the relationship damaged, wild looking, unkempt recently evolved self (my friend is a usually immaculately kept good looking Essex girl, the envy of us all).

The devastating end of a relationship. Deep loss. The end of trust for her. She was adamant this was now her. Damaged by the intense 3 year long meant-to-be-forever, with the man of her dreams. But now he was gone ( as it turns out off to pastures new with another Laydee). Leaving behind lies, disbelief, an ugly black TV stand you could recycle as a garden shed, and a ruined life. Or had he?

Reading these few words had a very powerful effect upon my pal. Something stirred within. Distance of time and the re- reading of those words attached to her pain resulted in her light bulb moment. Her perception of being the damaged-done-to-person started to shift. She jotted down in the notes on her phone ‘That’s not me’! (That’s indeed not who she is). In that moment she herself recognised it.  She is far more . In the words of a Frank Carson funny, repetitious and deliciously corny departed comedian ‘ and there’s more….!’ In that moment my friend knew it, and more importantly wanted it- life again. Hope springs eternal however you want to describe it, there it was.

Miss Sceptical  went right out and bought a journal. Not just any old journal though; a very special beautifully bound A5 embroidered, bejewelled precious book. Not some old scrap of an exercise book (good for her). After all, our thoughts and feelings are indeed priceless things. We should Value them, value ourselves more than we do. We can learn more from ourselves than anything else if we are willing to do so.

Her outpourings became less as her demeanour became calmer. Her well turned out appearance, along with her sense of humour returned. Back in her brocade kick- flares and with a gloss to her hair that is the envy of many, ( no, she hasn’t given up fags but what were you expecting a fairy tale with a perfect happy ending, come on now this is real life….). She is well and truly back. She writes in her journal , it’s her confidential, no danger of gossip, new BF.

Our writing can be mere musings or something more important; it’s all about perception. We can find meaning in the smallest of things if we choose. Journaling is a record of where we are now which will become a record of where we were then. Evidence of overcoming adversity gives us strength to keep going( nothing stays the same , everything changes). We can look back at sadness and it makes the joy all the more poignant and much much more. Go on, give it a go.


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