Therapy

They say writing is therapeutic. I’m not really sure who “they” are and I can’t say for certain that “they” have actually ever said that to me specifically. However, when I tell people that’s what they say, they seem to agree. Personally, I believe reading is therapeutic. I have read several pieces throughout my life by various artists (books, poems, short stories, fiction, nonfiction, biographical works) that capture with near-perfection the experiences of my life and emotions I’ve felt as a result of those experiences.

It occurred to me not long ago that, while we may be individuals living very different lives, the events in our lives are really not that different. If you take that a step further, we are bound to have similar reactions and feelings regarding the things we experience. If this were not the case, I wouldn’t be able to identify so exactly with the writings of others that, ultimately (or basically?), have nothing to do with me.

(I suppose this line of thinking [even before I realized it was a line of thinking] is what encouraged me to begin writing from a personal perspective. I’ve tried, infrequently, to put a few thoughts down over the years and I have a handful of pieces I’ve even managed to complete [literally, a handful] which I intend to share and add to.)

I wish that I could say I had experienced a major breakthrough as a result of something I had read and thought to myself, “Wow! I bet if I wrote about my experiences, I could help someone else this same way! There have to be others going through these same things and maybe, just maybe, I can shed some light.” Unfortunately, I haven’t had a breakthrough and I don’t think that. Mostly, while reading, what I find myself thinking is, “Hah! I can totally relate to that!”

I’m a problem solver. I like to look at the facts, reason out the course of events, determine the how and why and then neatly store it all away in the “I Get It Now” file. As time goes on, I find this increasingly difficult to do. And, so, I’m attempting to change my way of thinking. Perhaps, there are situations that are just too convoluted to be so neatly dissected. In which case, maybe the best I can hope for is that I’ll come in contact with another person who understands what I’m going through, a common thread that binds us together.

That is what brings me to this exact place. Looking back at my life, I think I’ve had some interesting experiences, nothing extreme or out of the ordinary, but interesting. If you read about things that have happened to me and hope to gain insight into your own life, I can’t promise you will find that. I have little insight to offer and even fewer answers. But, hopefully, if you relate to my experiences, you’ll remember that, even if we can’t solve all the hows and whys and neatly tuck it all away, you’re not alone.

And, so, it begins…