When we say that words have the power to heal, it is not merely another cliched statement. I am thoroughly convinced of this realization. I have always enjoyed reading more than writing until lately when writing has turned my source of catharsis. During my childhood, writing even an essay caused a frown on my face for I always lacked expression and my words failed to gather any attention. I did write at times but they were meant for a diary. It was used to vent out my frustration whenever I secured low marks or the homely anguish troubled me. Other than that, writing didn’t come naturally to me. However, it is an irony that today I find both pleasure and solace in writing.
Just like many others, I resorted to writing when depression struck me and I felt no one could understand me better. It was like there was an earnest need to get things out of me as I felt that I was growing hollow day by day. Blogging has actually been the best decision of my life since the support I got from the writing world has been amazing. I don’t mean assistance in literal terms of flowering comments and appreciation but their consistent presence that asserted I am not alone helped me to recover soon.
Pouring my heart out clears the toxins out of my chaotic mind and lightens my soul. The best part is that writing gives full liberty to create an illusionary world where I can not only dream anything fancy but can also fly. Earlier it was difficult for me to think positive and maybe even today my poems end on a sad note most of the times. However, I can say my sufferings have reduced substantially for writing actually works as a therapy. It has even enabled me to see the beauty in things which made no sense a few years back. When the ink bleeds, it actually breaks the walls that we build around us to avoid further hurt from penetrating. For writing brings along the gift of acceptance melting the heart to even perceive others’ sorrows.
Initially, I wrote about my pain, my miseries, and my preferences. However, when nature around started affecting me positively, my words gradually drifted towards the colours beyond white and black, reflecting joy. My writings are evolving day by day as now I have developed linking the observations beyond my personal experiences thereby empathising with others’ circumstances. Every element of nature be it living or non-living has now meaning for me as if it all symbolizes something ethereal. It is certainly a fact that our words can create an impact only when they are poignant enough to affect us deeply and we are fully convinced.
Whether we write about the demons scaring us or the fairies in heaven, it reflects the exquisite mental state and our position of the heart. Whenever we articulate the stories or poems depicting verity wrapped in ornamental words, it becomes more appealing. Just like the words have the power to rescue us from the chaotic world, they also have the potential to strike the reality hard on the face. Writing has always driven me forward while helping me to reminisce the bad times like a good memory. No sooner than our words start leaving footprints than we realize that this talent needs to be utilized for healing than reminding people of their scars. With this, I conclude by saying that writing actually helps our own selves before acting as a support system for others. Thus, we need not be mindful of what we write for it is actually necessary to vent it out before we fill rivers with our tears!