Uncovering Identity in Personal Writing

Your relationship with therapeutic writing can be quite intimate if you allow it to naturally function as it should. It’s relationship-like. Writing for personal healing is no new thing, because human beings are no new thing. We’ve been around for a while, and we’ve seen therapeutic writing used in various forms but probably never recognized it as writing for healing, per se.

Man, I can think back in the day about all kinds of personal writing that was used to get thoughts, feelings, and emotions down in words. But, never really thinking that these communications were forms of expressive writing to cope with inner struggles individuals were dealing with at the time.

I can recall, in my early childhood, about ways in which I either took part in expressive writing to feel better or to document my dreams for the future. For example . . .

I used to keep a diary as a child. And, I would just free-flow write in it (no prompting allowed) to air out how I felt on a given day. Sometimes, it was smooth sailing. And, I’d have one of those uneventful days, where nothing much happened out of the ordinary. So even though it was an unexciting 24 hours, it was a good 24 hours. (Oh, and there was plenty of exciting stuff chronicled, as well. After all, I was a child back then, so there was bound to be some juicy stuff to write about from time to time. You know . . . children being bundles of “interesting” and all.) Hee. Hee.

And then, there were those days that I might have had issues with that particular “special kid” who just didn’t know how to keep his/her negative words and actions to him/herself. Well, let’s just go ahead and call that “special kid” a bully. Needless to say, the bully would win on those hurtful days, injuring with words/actions that cut deep. And, the bully would find his/her way in my diary, along with a whole dissertation of how much the interaction with that individual messed up my day. Hence, “Today was a bad day.”

And, I’m not gonna lie . . . self-unacceptance can easily creep in at an early age if enough of the negative vibes others reflect on you (about you) have a chance to internally take root and grow.

Or, maybe my day went AWESOME, because I got to see the boy I was crushing on.

You know . . . little kids write out their life stories in other places (outside of diaries), as well.

Like on little pieces of paper while in the church pews during a service. And instead of paying attention to what was being said across the pulpit at the time, the little girl might have been writing down the name of her future husband, how many children her and her future husband would have, what kind of house they’d live in and where, what kind of jobs they’d have with salaries figured out and everything. And so forth and so on . . .

Hey, sounds like “positive affirmations” before “positive affirmations” were even a thing.

Oh, and I can’t forget the time I went to a girl scout “Wider Opportunities” event, where I got to horseback ride for two whole weeks in the scenic landscape of Ten Sleep, Wyoming.

Those were the days. Yeah, young and fancy-free, full of energy and exuding the wide-eyed innocence of a young girl, living off the land with a bunch of “friends” I’d never met until then.

Yeah, we became friends fast! After all, we were girl scouts you know. If girl scouts can’t get along, who can?

Plus, we had to rely so much on each other and teamwork to make the dream work out there in the rugged terrain, elements, wildlife, and just plain old nature with no filter. We were just out there.

So, no bullying by the girls. They were pretty cool I have to say. And, I’ll always have fond memories of the other girls scouts I met during that experience.

But . . .

And it’s a big “BUT.”

How is it that I managed to escape any issues with the girls that were there to have a good time just like me, BUT ended up finding my nemesis to be the very horse I was assigned to?

PUDGIE!

Yes, the horse’s name was Pudgie; and I should have known something was up with that horse by the name he was given.

When I tell you that Pudgie was the slowest horse at the riding camp, I’m not exaggerating. Well, maybe I’m exaggerating, but it didn’t seem like it at the time. I don’t REALLY know if he was the slowest or not. Never gave a survey to all the campers and officially asked them. But in my world, Pudgie just seemed to be the slowest horse I’d ever encountered.

And he was mine for the next two weeks!

It was so mortifying when we had to go on a trail and Pudgie and I’d be in the middle or front of the pack somewhere (instead of at the end), because we would always SLLLLLOOOOOWWWWW things down for everyone behind us. I hated that feeling, too. Piercing eyes from behind, wishing they could laser-evaporate us out of the way so the pack could get to the destination before high noon.

Seriously. Even though the girls were still my friends, they’d get a little frustrated at times with my handling of Pudgie. Which I didn’t do so well for the first week. And of course, it didn’t seem like anyone else had trouble with her horse but me.

Okay. Again, in my own little world, everything seemed so much worse than what it probably was in reality. I felt like everything was being done to me.

Why did they give ME the defective horse? And, why couldn’t I figure out how to make him move like a little wind-up toy horse? And why was this happening to me, because I signed up for “fun” at this horseback-riding camp, not misery.

My mom even said that the letters I wrote to her (while at camp) were some of the saddest she’d ever read. She said she felt so bad for me when reading them.

Yeah! I know she felt bad, because I FELT BAD; and I was simply writing out my woes just like I was feeling them at the time, just like I was internalizing all the emotions I was experiencing. I had to tell someone and it wasn’t going to be the camp leaders or the other girls I was going to unleash on. They wouldn’t understand.

It would have to be my Mom — my nurturer, my protector, the one who knows me and loves me, the one who could make me feel better just by letting her know how I felt in the written word.

But you know what?

My mom said that the letters that came later on (in the two weeks) got progressively better — not as sad. And, that definitely eased her mind about me being so far away, while feeling so miserable, where she couldn’t help me get through my pains.

But, it all worked out in the end.

Yes, Pudgie and I ended up being friends. We parted ways on good terms. And to be fair, it probably wasn’t all of Pudgie’s fault that everything seemed to go in slow motion every time I’d hop on his saddle. Some of that slowness was probably due to rider error.

Anyway, horseback riding camp turned out to be an overall GREAT experience. And, I think the letter writing to my Mom helped get me through. Because I had to dump, release, let go of the inner turmoil I was having at the time. I had to let it go somewhere.

Even though there was nothing humanly possible that my Mom could do to make things better at the time, the act of writing, in and of itself, is what actually did the trick. Probably would have been just as effective if I didn’t even send the letters to her. Just writing out how I was feeling is what brought me a little comfort and may have actually been one of the pivotal moments at camp that helped turn everything around.

Letter writing is great for that release of thoughts, feelings, and emotions when you just can’t seem to utter how you think and feel through verbalization. And like I said, the letters may not necessarily need to go anywhere. For instance, if you’re writing to yourself, you don’t need to send the letters off. They go directly to YOU.

And when I got back home and my Mom let me read the letters I’d sent to her, I really got a sense of who I was during that experience. My identity during that trip. I was real. Flawed. Strong. A survivor. I took a tough situation and got through it. Without my Mom, even. I overcame challenges and could even walk away saying it turned out to be a GREAT experience. And even made “nice” with my nemesis, Pudgie.

Identity. Identity.

Writing shows us a lot about ourselves.

I could go on and on about how writing my book, Playground Instruction for the Growing Adult, and about how this Degrees of Maternity blog has given me SO many priceless revelations about who I am.

(Yes, creating expressive content in all different forms can take on therapeutic properties. Wish I could have gotten into poetry, but that’s definitely not my forte.)

But more importantly, my writing all throughout my life has given me even more perspective on WHO I WANT TO BE (the identity I want to assume) and in what capacities I need to function in order to get better and better (self improve) in my life.

All I can say is that the lists we’ve created (over the last two weeks) are telling about who we are, but they’re also telling us who we need to be to move forward to bigger and better things that are waiting for us in life.

So, I want you to take your list and I want you to focus only on those areas of your personal makeup that you need to reduce the debilitating effects of — those limiting beliefs . . . negative, self-inflected thoughts about yourself . . . hurts inflected by others (onto you) that haven’t been appropriately addressed . . . and the like. And I want you to write down what a person who’s received healing (or is in the process of healing) from those things looks like.

In other words, this person is taking authority over those areas of life instead of letting those areas rule/take over his or her existence.

What’s the identity of that person?

How does he or she carry him- or herself? Alone? Around others?

What’s the mindset like? The character? The personality and demeanor?

What kind of outlook on life does this individual have? Goals and Ambitions? Fears?

What type of influences does this person surround him- or herself with?

And, what kinds of actions and direction does this person take?

How does this person handle stressors and difficult situations?

What’s the identity of this person who’s received or is receiving healing from the areas of life that have been holding him or her back from being the truest self that he or she can positively be?

What does he or she look like — this person you want to be when you grow up?

Write it down, my friend.