We
live in a hectic, non stop world. As much as we may want to stop and
smell the roses, we are not always able to find the time. Just over
two years ago I was go, go, go, I had a hard job which paid great
money, with no children my husband and I could splurge on anything we
wanted, without worrying about monetary consequences. Inevitably the
long hours and stress caught up with me. I kept telling people I
would find a new career, but when you are working fifty plus hours a
week there is no time to do anything much more than work, eat and
sleep.
So
there I was, full of inner turmoil, and yet, still unwilling to stop
and look at what I was doing to my mental, emotional and physical
health. I started going to doctors looking for them to tell me what
was wrong, why couldn't I get to sleep, but also why once asleep I
couldn't wake up? Why did I always seem to be suffering stomach and
digestive upsets? Why was I suffering permanent tension headaches and
frequent migraines?
Finally
a doctor told me it was, very mild anxiety, nothing to worry about,
just meditate more often and things will be fine. So I meditated, and
meditated, I tried mindfulness, guided mediation, hypnosis, floating
in water. If it was said to help anxiety I tried it. I kept on
ignoring the increasingly obvious warning signs, as long as I showed
up and did my job, no one else seemed to care anyway. I fell into the
trap waiting for many of us with "high functioning" chronic
or mental illness. I didn't look sick, so nobody, not even myself
realised how sick I was.
So
after about two years of being told not to worry by doctors, and
racking up sick days I couldn′t explain properly even to myself I
ended up in a very dark place. You see, there was nothing very mild
about my anxiety (which we now know followed me from childhood), and
to make it an extra big ball of no fun at all, major depression
decided to join my very morbid party. I went from high functioning to
an almost comatose mess practically over night.
Watching
Netflix on my laptop, or playing games on my phone became my daily
crutch, an escape from a reality I wanted nothing to do with. As the
days went on I became more and more despondent, and a greater danger
to self. Eventually I found myself being admitted to the Cairns
Mental Health Unit, a place which saved my life by starting me on a
two year long quest to find my self acceptance and inner peace.
My
first moment in the MHU was traumatic, I had to give up all devices
with cameras, goodbye laptop, so long phone.
How
would I live without internet and text messages?
One
of the nurses suggested I could be old fashioned and write by hand.
So I began putting my thoughts down in blue ink on blank printer
paper. My husband and friends all caught on quick and brought me
notepads, journals and pens. So I wrote, in blue, black, red, purple
and green. I wrote poems, thoughts, and how my day progressed. I
wrote letters to my loved ones which I never shared. I started
writing in different journals for different things.
I
had a recovery journal, to write about my treatment and diagnoses, a
daily journal to write about mundane boring things, a dream journal,
a spiritual and emotional journal, a shadow journal, and a journal to
write about my childhood and past traumas. So many books and so many
colours, but I really did begin to feel so much better. The more I
wrote, and the more my hand held the pens, the more at peace I began
to feel. There is something utterly cathartic about the physical act
of releasing your thoughts.
As
time went on and medications kicked in, I dropped the number of
journals down and also decreased the fervid scribbling which filled
every moment of my days.
Nowadays
I keep a dream journal, a shadow work journal, and a regular journal.
I don't write in them every day, but it is a regular occurrence to
find me sitting outside with a cup of tea and my journal. It is a
calming experience, and one which brings a great sense of inner peace
and relief to my soul. The benefits of journaling are easily
garnered, the very the act of connecting mind to pen and pen to paper
brings a deep sense of harmony. A busy mind accepts the ime you need
it to quiet down as long as it knows it has regular moments to get
the crazy thoughts out.
Today,
journaling is quite a fashion statement and if you are the creative
type you can get some pretty fancy pages going. Writing for emotional
health or inner peace however, is not about how pretty you make it
rather, it is about telling your truth, and letting your soul have a
voice. Your journal is a place you can write how you are feeling
everyday and over time be able to track personal patterns and
behaviours.
Writing
honest accounts about how you feel and where your life is going can
be a great way to solve problems and discover your soul's purpose.
Looking back at months gone past is an invaluable way to track your
progress through challenging times and see how far you have come. It
does not matter how neat or messy the pages become, at times I can
not even read my own writing and that is perfectly okay. Its not
about having a show piece to brag about, rather an inner peace
journal is about getting the emotional baggage out of your head,
which keeps us in turmoil out.
Journaling
is a way to tell someone (even if is just ourselves and the divine)
our fears and secrets. It helps us feel heard in a world which is
increasingly deaf to our pain and suffering. It is so much better to
get festering thoughts out and onto paper where we can read them back
to ourselves and steal the destructive power they have over our
psyche. Picking up those pens was the best thing I ever did and I
promise if you grab pen and paper and start writing it will be the
best thing you ever did to find your own inner peace as well.
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