fine, i’ll write something. i don’t know what, exactly. but something.
May 6, 2008
As some of you know, I have started doing cognitive-behavioral therapy. Today’s session was interesting, like one of those moments straight out of “In Treatment” in which Paul causes his patient to have a truly breakthrough moment, then he feels all good about being an effective therapist and the patient leaves feeling a glimmer of hope about his or her life turning into something better.
Here’s what went down: My therapist asked me what my typical day was like when I got home from work. I started listing all the things I do, such as eating, bathing and doing chores around the house. When I was finished with my list, she pointed out that there wasn’t anything fulfilling there — simply a list of tasks that need to be done, but nothing I want to do or am driven to do.
I jumped in and told her that it hasn’t always been like that. I brought up the content of my last post — how I feel like I can’t do any of the things I love because I am so ill. How, essentially, I feel as if my life is on hold unless and until my health improves. She then asked me to describe my typical day before I became ill. Reading and writing poetry, blogging, and communicating with other poets and writers both online and in the real world ranked high on that list.
Of course you know where this is going. My therapist told me I have to reconnect with all those things I love doing, and that being ill is no reason to put my life on hold. She asked me to describe my poetry writing in detail. After hearing me talk about it, she said it sounds like writing is essential to my well-being in that it allows me to connect with myself and others in a very deep way — to recognize and confront what is at my core and to create something meaningful, perhaps even beautiful, from that recognition. (That last bit is my phrasing, not hers, but it’s essentially what she was saying.)
I know all this. I know. I know. I know. I have long argued that the act of writing poetry changes a person, the effect is so profound. I know writing has had a tremendous impact* on my life in the past few years. I know I must write in order to thrive, but I don’t quite know how to start up again.
My therapist said to start with any kind of writing or wordplay as opposed to jumping right back into trying to write poetry. I guess this blog is a good place to start. I should probably commit to writing on it every day, or several times a day, like I used to. We’ll see where things lead from there.
I also need to go to readings again and reach out to the poets I know in this area. I’ve been avoiding any kind of interaction, thinking I would feel better soon and then I’d be able to get out in the local community again. Since “better” seems to be avoiding me, I need to stop waiting for it to come knocking on my door.
Finally, I need to connect with poets online again. I’m going to start by participating in Read Write Poem every week. I also have an idea for a Poet Interview that I would like to write for RWP.
It’s not much, but it’s a start. And we all have to start somewhere.
In other news, I have an MRI tomorrow and an EEG next week. Tests, tests, tests … oh the joy.
In other other news, an editor approached me about submitting work to the literary journal she runs. How excellent is that?
* Impact used in this way is jargon. Don’t go there in your own writing, people. Take the time to find the word you are really looking for instead of being a language lame-o like me.
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This work is licensed under Creative Commons.
If you don’t credit Dana (by using her full name and preferably by linking back to the appropriate post) for however you copy, distribute, transmit or adapt her words, you are being bad. And naughty. And she will have her servant monkeys hunt you down and cut your hands off so you can never copy, distribute, transmit or adapt anyone’s work again and call it your own.
(Unless, of course, you were to use your butt cheeks to manipulate your keyboard with the copying, distributing, transmitting, adapting and whatnot, but Dana fortunately has only met one person whose butt cheeks are that talented. He could play a major third on a piano using nothing but his ass. She kids you not.).
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Welcome back! Unless you find some other way to reconnect with your writing, that is. In which case, I hope it brings you joy anyway, even though we won’t have the pleasure of reading it.
I love your therapist.
And I love that the editor approached you. (Holy crap, that is sweet on 18-levels.)
Catherine, hi. The thought of trying to write again ~ anything, not just poetry ~ has me feeling a little nauseated. And warm. Nauseated and warm is an interesting combination.
…deb, at least I am getting something for my money, right? I don’t want to get a bunch of therapy and have nothing to show for it.
I am just happy for you; and by happy happenstance, for me too because I get to read your wonderful writing again …
:) 
This is great news, Dana. It makes sense. I’ll be seeing you out there. Looking forward to reading your poems, and anything else you write.
I’ve been kind of doing the same thing - putting my life on hold because of my health problems - partially because whenever I do anything that I enjoy, it seems to make my health problems worse (i.e. going out with friends and laughing and talking = jaw seizing up and migraines for four days straight.) But this post reminds me that I have to start finding passion in my life, even in baby steps, or I’m not going to get healthy.
Here’s hoping we can both make it happen. Health and happiness - we deserve both.