They say writing is draining for the soul.
Perhaps I need to write more. Perhaps I need to drain my soul of all the negativity and darkness. Perhaps I need to talk about my memories. Perhaps I need to open Pandora's box.
I used to talk about memories in this blog and then I stopped. It seemed to be construed as a preoccupation with the past. Maybe if I talk about them they will stop coming to me. I used to think that if I mentioned something I would not have to mention it again, it would simply be a matter of 'see this blog post' or 'I have already written on this issue'. I do this with academic matters.
Perhaps I need to write about memories, how memories relate to my present, and try to understand why they are coming back.
I had a flash of anger just a moment ago. I was reminded of when I was so angry after I got out of the mental hospital that I threw all my books down from the shelf. I left the books on the floor for a week or so to my recollection. Perhaps it was a few weeks. I was so angry I just threw things and left it there. It was seen as the ulti9mate expression to throw things. I learned from that experience that I could throw things but I wouldn't stop getting angry, and whatever I threw. I would eventually have to pick it up.
To express anger at my indignity of my experiences at the mental ward was shewn by throwing my beloved books, and saying angry words at people to whom it was not worth directing to. Perhaps the start of my healing process was to realise metaphorically and literally that the books I had thrown would have to be picked up. All the relationships that I ruined had to be built up again, some of them couldn't be recovered. This lesson was sobering and this sobriety is the essence of why I try to be calm. Whatever I throw, whatever words, or plates, or books, or chairs, would have to be picked up again.
I hope this is how catharsis feels.
Perhaps I need to write more. Perhaps I need to drain my soul of all the negativity and darkness. Perhaps I need to talk about my memories. Perhaps I need to open Pandora's box.
I used to talk about memories in this blog and then I stopped. It seemed to be construed as a preoccupation with the past. Maybe if I talk about them they will stop coming to me. I used to think that if I mentioned something I would not have to mention it again, it would simply be a matter of 'see this blog post' or 'I have already written on this issue'. I do this with academic matters.
Perhaps I need to write about memories, how memories relate to my present, and try to understand why they are coming back.
I had a flash of anger just a moment ago. I was reminded of when I was so angry after I got out of the mental hospital that I threw all my books down from the shelf. I left the books on the floor for a week or so to my recollection. Perhaps it was a few weeks. I was so angry I just threw things and left it there. It was seen as the ulti9mate expression to throw things. I learned from that experience that I could throw things but I wouldn't stop getting angry, and whatever I threw. I would eventually have to pick it up.
To express anger at my indignity of my experiences at the mental ward was shewn by throwing my beloved books, and saying angry words at people to whom it was not worth directing to. Perhaps the start of my healing process was to realise metaphorically and literally that the books I had thrown would have to be picked up. All the relationships that I ruined had to be built up again, some of them couldn't be recovered. This lesson was sobering and this sobriety is the essence of why I try to be calm. Whatever I throw, whatever words, or plates, or books, or chairs, would have to be picked up again.
I hope this is how catharsis feels.
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