“Writing is a form of therapy; sometimes I wonder how all those who do not write, compose, or paint can manage to escape the madness, melancholia, the panic and fear which is inherent in a human situation.”
― Graham Greene, Ways of Escape
In the last edition of The Memo, I mentioned the sense of permanence that comes from writing. “Speaking the words means acknowledging reality,” I wrote. “Putting words on paper means accepting reality.”
Lately, and especially here on Substack, I’ve seen many references to the therapeutic value in writing, and far be it from me to contradict this. But, as a guy who has written all of his life, and who has spent more time on the proverbial couch than most people he knows, I cringe a little every time I hear the phrase “writing is therapy.” And, when I read the words, “writing is better than therapy,” the more obstinate voice from the committee in my head immediately weighs in, “no. It’s not.”
Now, anyone who knows me knows how I feel about journaling. I have benefitted from a writing practice for nearly 30 years. I encourage people to journal all the time. You can find a list of journaling prompts on the home page of The Manifest. I share a new one each time I publish this newsletter (scroll down).
For me, journaling is beyond cathartic. I discover things when I write - not only about myself, but about the world. I treasure it. That said, writing is only better than therapy for people who don’t need therapy.
Just as I find unique value in writing that I don’t find in therapy the opposite is also true. Therapy gave me something that writing every single day, for years on end, didn’t.
Peace.
Therapy has given me peace from the war waged against me by the darker, more brutal voices among the members of that committee I mentioned, the guerrillas. Whether sitting on that sofa and talking for years disarmed them entirely, or simply seized their ammunition, I don’t know. But I do know this. They can’t hurt me anymore.
I suffered my share of wounds and did my best to tend them on my own. At one point, I nearly died that way, because I needed help from other people. Not readers. I needed people who were in the room, looking me in the eye. Until I got that help, writing was like cataloguing the wounds; taking stock of the weaponry that remained in the enemy’s possession.
Therapy airlifted me to a safer place. On the ascent, I could look down at the battlefield and see how everything happened. Because of that, therapy not only made me a better writer. It made me a better person.
You know what is better than therapy? Not needing therapy.
You might argue that, had I not been wounded, I wouldn’t have become that better person. It’s true. I’m grateful to be who I am.
There was a time in my life when I would have rather been anyone but me. Now, there is no one I would rather be.
The one person I would have preferred to be is the person I might have been had I not been wounded. He didn’t survive the war.
That person would have escaped the madness, melancholia, the panic and fear of life; he would have reaped the therapeutic benefit from writing, the same way I do - by putting my creative work out into the ether, for all to see.
Maybe he could have said, “writing is better than therapy,” in earnest, but I can’t.
Restless (adjective)
lacking or denying rest : uneasy
characterized by or manifesting unrest especially of mind
Journaling Prompt for October 4, 2024
If you have been in therapy, how have you benefited from it? If you have not, how might you benefit from it?
Thanks for reading. Please like or comment. Let me know who and where you are.
Have a great weekend.
Tom, I always enjoy your perspective and this one really resonated with me. After my memoir was published some people said, writing it must have been so therapeutic. I felt the same, cringe inside. THat's not why I wrote it though I hoped it would be helpful for others. Where journaling was that for me, writing the memoir came after therapy and processing. I think in order to write things we send out into the world , they are best when we have done the work with ourselves already so the reader knows we are not necessarily sending it out for ourselves, but as a way to offer a story that might help them. While I discovered things in the process of writing it, it was more about how the work of writing, the craft, than the content (being childless). All this to say, I appreciate that you are sending your work out into the world in such a helpful/healthy way.
Powerful and true. I thought of the young man who had an office across from mine years ago. Patrice