The Pen Is Might(il)y Underrated: Why You Should Give Writing Therapy a Try
Every human being is a storyteller: it is as much a part of us as our genetic similarities to apes and bananas. Admittedly, storytelling isn’t written intrinsically into our genetic coding, however as long as humans have had complex language, we have always told stories for entertainment, memory and understanding. It is an oral and written tradition we adhere to today, even if we do not realise we’re doing it.
Those that swear by a hatred of reading and writing may be sceptical towards this claim however these are the same people who will enthral you with a hilarious anecdote or will be utterly engrossed in their narrative analysis of a football match (the referee, sometimes acting the a pantomime-esque villain, the speaker unaware that they are a somewhat biased or unreliable narrator). To a certain extent, storytelling surrounds us from prior to our birth and, if we are fortunate, till long after we are gone. Yet it is a concept many of us are afraid of; myself included until merely a year ago.
During my teacher training year, I was sat in a seminar room and asked by my university lecturer to free write a story. As I was training to be an English teacher, it was a simple rationale that I should practise what I preach and if I were to tell my students to write a story off the cuff one day, I should do the same. Any topic, any genre, any word-length. The prospect filled me with horror and dread as I realised I didn’t know what to write. I stared at the blank piece of paper in front of me and it emanated the same feeling of an exam paper, except generally I was decent at exams and the idea to just write something filled me with dread. I loved stories of all kinds: adoring everything from lyrical ballads to the latest blockbuster, but sit me down and say ‘write something’ utterly floored me. I had gone from a child who loved immersing herself in her own stories to an adult petrified of writing. So after that exercise I began writing more for myself, after all how could I encourage a love of writing in young people, if I did not creatively write myself?
In the weeks and months that followed I became an ardent writer and began to write poetry in particular. Nearly a year later, it became a crutch with which to support myself as my mental health declined. Teaching is an inherently pressured profession, however it is made all the more so by being the political football of two amateur, bloodthirsty teams. Those in charge of the education system seldom have more experience other than their own school days to draw upon and follow the sadist diktat of ‘I experienced this and turned out fine, therefore they will be fine.’
As education is often deemed to be the pillar of a civilised and democratic society, it is incongruously treated with the brutish force of an overzealous demolition crew. Needless to say, I haven’t been a fan of how education is treated by the government, a fascination that stems from whether I would still be a teacher now had ‘things been different.’ The reality, however, was that I left teaching part way through my first year, due to a mental health breakdown.
Sometimes, a mental health breakdown isn’t as dramatic as fiction makes it out to be. There was no major conflict that left me screaming and crying, it was so much quieter than that. One day I simply woke up and could not get out of bed. Have you ever experienced a type of exhaustion that seems deeper than what it appears on the surface, an exhaustion that is so fathomless it has permeated itself deep into your bones? That is what it felt like for me. It would later be diagnosed as anxiety and depression, a diagnosis I had never had before in my life. So dreadful was it’s affect on me, I could not work and it soon became apparent, I would not be capable of working for some time.
To process the situation, I turned to my first coping mechanism: I turned to my pen and wrote more than I had ever done before. My primary mode of writing was poetry however I do not know if I ever actively chose this medium, it felt more like it chose me. The phrases I came up with seemed to fit together like pieces of a puzzle, first forming stanzas and then poems. It was exhilarating transforming my depression and anxiety, something that felt toxic and all-encompassing into something beautiful. It was through the pen that I realised my worth was not related to my ability to work, my worth was inherent.
One barrier I had faced myself was my name. I simply could not write under my birth name, as social media is a veritable quagmire for the modern teacher, with students, parents and line managers at every turn (and yes, all of the above do look you up). So I wrote under a pseudonym and considered myself lucky to do so. I could write on any topic, in any manner that I pleased without being subjugated to the watchful eye of the education system. I soon realised that this wasn’t possible for everybody, simply not everyone wants to write frequently under a pseudonym and sometimes they do not need to write all the time. Out of this idea, the Torn Pages Project was born. The idea that anyone, anywhere could tell their story or stories completely anonymously.
As I began to talk to others more about my wellbeing and my project, I received many titbits of advice of what worked some admittedly less healthy than others: running, yoga, meditation, alcohol, cigarettes, CBD, aromatherapy, arts, crafts, music and any manner of other methods. When I mentioned writing many reacted with ‘makes sense’ in a way that implied ‘makes sense for you.’ For you, because you’re into writing, books and poems anyways. It got me thinking about the disparity between writing and other forms of art therapy.
Why was writing therapy something that was for me, but not others? With mental health as such an essential part of our zeitgeist, why are we reluctant to utilise a skill we are so familiar with? I began contemplating why this may be the case and came up with several theories, ways to overcome them and why they should be debunked.
Firstly, the association that writing equates to work and not pleasure. I’m sure the majority of us can remember being tormented at school with writing reams and reams of pages when we are not inspired to do so. Perhaps it was a subject that we loathed or a teacher who relied on extended writing tasks a little too frequently. Perhaps there is a perfectionist tendency within us that has been stoked from formal education: the idea of ‘doing it right’.
Oftentimes when I discuss the Torn Pages Project with people, they tell me of the fear of starting and the fact that they don’t want to get it wrong, a fear of failure so intense that it prevents people from trying to write in the first place. It is a fear I can relate to: nothing is more frustrating than having a blank page staring at you, or a cursor gloating as it blinks freely. My tip to overcome this, is simply to start. Write anything, whether it is nonsensical or not. Once you have got something on the page or screen, it feels much better than having this blank canvas looking back at you. Remember that what you are writing does not have to be the final draft and it is something you will never be assessed on, the pressure is more internal than real.
Another barrier to writing therapy may be the intimacy of autobiography. Simply it is difficult to write of our own experiences, especially if the wounds are still raw and as with many acts, it gets easier with time and practise. There is a an element of claiming ownership over events that have happened to you or that you have observed and the power that comes from that is extraordinary. You transform from the protagonist to the author, so not only does it allow you to heal from these events but it reminds you that you are capable of writing the next part of the story.
The next time you feel the need for an immediate purging of emotions, give writing a try. For instance if I have been angry about the state of the government or world events and I feel like I could scream, I have often crafted an angry poem or piece of prose out of this and have felt much better afterwards. This is not to say that you should necessarily do this in your personal or professional life: perhaps write the angry version of what you want to say in the notes app of your phone, rather than pressing send on that email or text simply because the red mist descended. You certainly do not have to dive into the deep end as well, as part of my behaviour activation therapy, I learned the practise of journaling and how helpful writing one’s intentions down can be. Eventually I grew my journaling practise to include a gratitude list and the monitoring of my emotions. Now it includes fun stuff such as memories, movies I’ve watched and books I’ve read.
There are numerous benefits to including writing therapy as part of your day-to-day wellbeing practise, including promising psychological studies indicating the relief of stress and trauma, simply through writing about one’s own experience. It is a practise that can be as private or as public as you wish for it to be, everything from journaling crafting a pseudonym or submitting to Torn Pages to blogging or speaking about your experiences publicly.
It is also a practise that can be honed without much expense, if you have a pen and some paper or a smartphone, you have a space to write. I am sure many of the writers for The Everyday will happily attest to the curative properties of picking up a pen and the confidence it brings. So what are you waiting for? Think about the story you want to tell and write it all out. It is after all, a great part of your cultural heritage, as a human being.
Written by J. V. Bates
Jocelyn Bates is an English teacher turned poet, writer and podcast host, taking a break from teaching after a mental health breakdown. She is the founder of the Torn Pages Project, a social media platform specialising in allowing participants to anonymously tell their story and is the researcher, writer and host of the Torn Pages Podcast, a podcast specialising in mental health discussions. You can find J.V. Bates on instagram at @jvbateswrites and the Torn Pages Project at @tornpagesproject