Wednesday 14 June 2023

Writing Therapy

 Writing therapy can help you in tough times.

Therapeutic writing is a form of expressive therapy that encourages the act of writing and processing the written words to improve feelings, emotions and overall, the quality of life of people.

I have used writing as a therapy in different contexts of my life and have found it beneficial. Four years ago, I was diagnosis with breast cancer, and at times I found it difficult to let others know how I was feeling. At times I did not want to talk to anybody. Other times when I wanted to talk, people were not available, or I felt they were not paying the attention that I needed.

I also used writing therapy when my father died. I was living abroad and could not attend his funeral, so I wrote to him several letters and poems letting him know how important he was in my life and how irreplaceable he was for me.

Taking a blank piece of paper and writing down exactly how I was feeling helped me to get my emotions out of my chest, especially as my mood was changing like a roller-coaster. If I was angry, sad, guilty, lost, or whatever my feelings were, I found that a piece of paper and a pen were my best allies.

The pen wrote without questioning what I wanted to say, and the paper received the information without reservations. The most important thing was that I could say what I wanted. Then, in the process of writing if I changed my mind, all what I had to do was to cross what I had written down, which could have been portions or everything. I could also put the piece of paper in the bin, and nothing happened.
On occasions, I used to spend a lot of time thinking over and over about the same issue, like trying to find a light that would make me feel comfortable. Writing helped me to visualise the issue and clarify my feelings. This was something I could not do with people as after telling somebody the same situation twice, they started getting bored and I used to feel I was lost and unappreciated.

By writing how I was feeling I also discovered some beautiful new words and expressions. My understanding of life became deeper, more critical, and more objective. This also changed the way I perceived things as overall; my senses became sharpened. I became more observant and discovered new colours, new smells, new sounds, new flavours, and new ways of experiencing and understanding life.

The paper and the pen became relevant items and a kind of new, unconditional friends. I would take them everywhere and they were available to be used whenever I wanted.

I started doing this without even knowing that writing therapy existed. It was until today when searching the internet to find some research about writing that I learned writing is a formal therapy. I was intrigued by this and read several articles. One of them pointed out that humans have expressed beliefs in the healing power of written words since ancient times. There are even courses to help people to express themselves and overcome any situation through the power of writing.
I encourage everyone to write and discover the benefits of writing by themselves.

The following links provide good information about writing therapy:

https://thehumancondition.com/writing-therapy/
https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3505408/
https://psychcentral.com/blog/the-power-of-writing-3-types-of-therapeutic-writing#1
https://www.menteamente.com/blog-salud-mental/escritura-terapeutica

Saturday 3 June 2023

Mi primer libro - My first book

 Presentando mi primer libro - Presenting my first book



Tengo el orgullo de presentarles mi primer libro. Es una historia muy bella, un cuento con el que gané un concurso organizado por la Alcaldía de mi mueblo natal, El Espino. Espero que disfruten la lectura.

I am very happy about presenting my first book. This is a lovely short story and with this I won a short story competition that was organised by the Town Hall of my hometown, El Espino. I hope you enjoy reading it.


I am busy resting!

  Resting needs time Take rest; a field that has rested gives a bountiful crop. Ovid     When my mother was resting, she used to tell pe...