Creating Meaning

One of the most challenging aspects of my mental health struggles has been overcoming my belief that my life was meaningless and therefore had no value. It became a self-perpetuating cycle: mental illness made me believe my life had no meaning and prevented me from doing anything which would give it meaning, which became evidence that my life was destined to be meaningless. I never realised I had the ability to create meaning in my life as it was, even during the worst times.

Apple blossom and sky

Choose your own path.

The first realisation was an obvious one: people create meaningful lives in different ways. Sometimes they focus on one aspect, such as having children or a specific career path. Many people create meaning “on the side” through art or charity work. There is no standard method of creating meaning, although there are many well-trodden paths.

Think about what you want — if I could grant all your wishes right now, what would your life look like? Choose what works for you: the values you prioritise, activities you enjoy, the goals you most want to achieve.

Creating meaning is about the process, not results, so don’t worry about whether you will be able to accomplish everything. Be open to changing direction as you learn more about yourself. At this stage, you are just beginning to explore how you find and create meaning.

 

 Create a meaningful narrative.

Storytelling is a fantastic way of creating meaning and making sense of your life. What narrative do you want to tell? What do you want to rewrite or edit? You get to decide. You can’t change your past, but you can choose the stories you tell about it.

Forming a clear narrative from the chaos of life is empowering. You can use your story to guide your decisions and create meaning. For example, I decided the story I want to tell is about using my suffering to connect with others through my writing, whether blogging or fiction. Along the way, I want to support, encourage and inspire other people who have mental health issues.

Think about the stories other people tell about their own lives, especially those who have overcome adversity and create positive outcomes. Do any of them resonate with you? Again, don’t stress about whether you can live up to the ending you want. Your story will change many times, even if the core narrative remains the same, often in amazing and unforeseen ways.

 

The mosaic approach.

If you are struggling to find a narrative thread, try thinking of your life as a mosaic: you can create meaning from discrete activities and relationships, without needing to tie it all together. For instance, you may enjoy running and create meaning by occasionally fundraising when you participate in longer races. Maybe you volunteer for your church and find meaning in helping meet others’ spiritual needs (as well as your own). Perhaps you are an infrequent traveller and find meaning in exploring new cultures when you are able to get away. You could do all of these or a combination of different things.

There doesn’t need to be a single, overarching meaning across all aspects of your life. Yes, some people seem to have it, but you don’t need to. In fact, there might already be a predominant meaning which you haven’t yet identified, or perhaps never will. Your life isn’t a business proposal: you don’t need to reduce it to an elevator pitch.

 

Make it personal.

Creating meaning is extremely individual. You don’t need to do anything “Important” or “Selfless”. If you don’t follow your own values and preferences, you will find it very difficult to create a life which is meaningful to you. Copying other people won’t work.

You don’t need to save the world to live a meaningful life. You can create meaning in small, precious ways: crafting a beautiful piece of furniture, growing roses, reading to your child.

 

Mine your past and present.

Where can you already find meaning in your life? Everyone can find meaning, so “nowhere” is not a valid answer. Do you create stuff? Cook for your family? Blog? Study? Spend time with people you love? Look after a pet? Read? Walk outside? You can find meaning in all of these activities.

Check your definition of “meaning” — remember, you don’t need to save the world — and think about how other people and yourself benefit from what you do/have done. Small acts of kindness, chatting with someone, hobbies you enjoy… these have a positive impact in themselves, but can also cause a ripple effect.

Simple tasks can have meaningful outcomes which emerge much later. For example, I started spending a lot of time watching films during the worst phases of depression (well, second worst — I did nothing during the very worst points), which reignited my love of film and eventually led to a Film Studies BA. Going to university helped my confidence a lot and I would be living a very different (worse) life without it. I stayed on to study for a Creative Writing MA and continue to pursue a career in writing fiction. I didn’t know any of this when I first started watching more films and 12 years later, I think I’m only beginning to recognise its impact.

Mining your life for meaning can be slow and you may have to chip away for ages before you find a vein of gold, but it’s invaluable. Time spent searching for meaning and experimenting with ways of creating meaning is never wasted.

 

Consider alternative perspectives.

Ask other people about what gives their life meaning. What makes them smile? What makes their lives a little easier? You might be surprised by their answers.

How can you look at your life in different ways? For example, if you work in a supermarket and don’t find the work interesting or enjoyable (I’ve been there!), there are several perspectives which demonstrate how it can be meaningful. Perhaps the money you earn supports your family or allows you to pursue your goals. You might be the only person some people talk to all week, therefore your work helps them feel less lonely. You are developing customer service skills which will serve you well in a future job or starting your own business. The hours might enable you to spend more time with your children or pets. Maybe you take pride in doing the best job you can, for its own sake, which increases your confidence and self-esteem.

There are advantages to most situations, even if they are outweighed by the negative aspects, and they can be used to create meaning. Experiencing mental health problems is horrible and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, but I have learnt many lessons from the pain and challenges. I would never go as far as to say mental illness has made my life better, but it has led to positive outcomes.

Creating meaning is an ongoing process.

Life is ever-changing, so our ways of interpreting it need to continually adapt. We may discover something which we thought would be meaningful turns out not to be. Often, we can be surprised by where we find meaning. Sometimes meaning emerges only with hindsight. As I said, creating meaning is more about the process than results.

Keep experimenting. Ask other people how they create meaning. Google it. Read for inspiration — start with Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl, which is impossible to recommend highly enough. Don’t judge yourself for finding meaning in stuff which other people deem superficial or unimportant. Avoid pressuring yourself to find all the answers straightaway. Don’t compare your path to other people’s, especially if their values differ from yours.

Start small. You are already doing many meaningful things every day, even if it’s just getting through the day. 

Getting The Message

I had a strange experience last week. Back in January/February, I booked an Arvon course called Editing Fiction. My plan was to use the opportunity to finish my novel and start submitting it to agents. The course was last week and it was amazing — I learnt a lot and felt inspired. However, by the end of the week, I had decided to abandon my novel.

Notebook

To say I hadn’t expected this outcome would be an understatement. One of my 2018 goals was to get The Novel up to a decent standard, making it the best I could. I was persuaded to read the opening chapter to my writing group and got encouraging feedback. I had redrafted it 4 times since I wrote the first draft 3/4 years ago. I was sure that working on this novel was what I should be doing.

And that was the problem. I was no longer enthusiastic about The Novel. Had fallen out of love with it.

The realisation came during a tutorial with one of my favourite writers. I went in babbling about not knowing whether I should be prioritising The Novel and feeling like an utter idiot. Luckily, the tutor is an excellent teacher and reader of humans: she saw something I hadn’t yet realised. She recounted her experience of writing a novel and losing it when her laptop was stolen. After the initial shock, she was relieved.

She asked me how I would feel if the same happened to me. My answer? Free.

Permission

The Novel isn’t right for me. Not at the moment, anyway. As the course tutor pointed out, if it had been right for me to keep working on it, I would have been offended and defensive when she suggested I quit. Instead, I was delighted to receive permission to stop.

I have thought a lot about permission in relation to writing. Like many other writers, I struggle with confidence and the paradox of assuming my work isn’t good enough and being arrogant enough to want people to read my stories. However, I had never considered seeking permission not to write — to abandon something in which I have invested a lot of time, effort and even (thanks to an online course on plot) money.

I don’t think twice about casting aside short stories that aren’t working for me, but The Novel felt different. I have never written a novel which is good enough to publish; perhaps I thought I had to prove myself. A lot of the writing advice I came across said to keep going, to finish projects, so I felt obliged to continue. To keep redrafting, even when I was no longer motivated.

Quitting feeds into a lot of my fears and negative beliefs: that I’m a failure, lazy, simply not good enough. Yet what is the point of pursuing a goal which I no longer want to achieve?

Lessons

The tutor reassured me that I hadn’t wasted my time on The Novel. It’s  an experience which has improved my writing and will help me to clarify my goals as a writer. I have learnt a lot through writing it, from the fact that spending 3/4 years on a project probably means I’m not lazy, to the Writers HQ course which developed my plotting skills. I’m not upset about giving up on it; I’m happier, lighter.

Although it’s early days, I believe that I will learn a lot from putting The Novel aside. It has made me wonder what else I’m clinging to in my life.

Signposts

The strangest part of this experience has been finding evidence that I knew — unconsciously — I should abandon The Novel before it was pointed out to me. In my lists of current goals, I have not prioritised The Novel. I was reluctant to show the other course tutor, an editor, my synopsis because I thought it was crap, which I now translate as knowing I didn’t believe in it, since it would have been sensible to ask her how to make the synopsis less crap. In my tutorial with the editor, she asked me questions about The Novel which I hadn’t considered. Why hadn’t I considered them? Because I didn’t care.

Other people on my course talked about their projects with enthusiasm, but I didn’t enjoy talking about The Novel. I was too ashamed to show it to the writer I admire — instead of my first chapter, I submitted a short story which I actually quite like.

With hindsight, it is clear I shouldn’t be working on The Novel. Yet I ignored the signs for months.

Again, it makes me wonder what else I’m overlooking. I am trying to trust my intuition, but I get swayed by what I “should” be doing. I “should” finish The Novel. I “should” focus on The Novel because its premise is commercial. I “should” be better at promoting myself and my work.

When I act on my intuition, the outcome is usually good. I can’t think of a time when I have regretted following my intuition; just loads of times I wish I had, but didn’t.

Doing

Forget what I “should” do. That’s the main lesson I took from the Arvon course. I can’t waste time and energy trying to be a different kind of writer, a different kind of person.

I’m not sure why I fight against my intuition so much — or why I fail to see the signs which point me towards what I really want. I think I’m getting better at recognising what I need to do, but this experience has taught me that I’m far more likely to listen to people I admire than to myself. It’s something I need to change.

Another issue which was mentioned in my tutorial is confidence. The self-doubt will never go away, says the writer whose books I buy as soon as I can (in print, no less). And it can be a good thing, because the best writers are those who are continually trying to improve, not the ones who believe their work is perfect.

Again, this is something I kind of knew, but it was reassuring to hear from one of my favourite writers. If I wait to feel confident before doing anything, especially writing/submitting stories, it won’t happen. I need to take action despite lacking confidence, to make it a habit.

When I take action towards goals which are important to me, I feel energised. Even if I was exhausted and demotivated before doing anything. I stopped feeling energised by The Novel long ago. I just needed someone else to give me the message.

Reconnecting with Goals

February is a great time to reconnect with your goals, because the “new year, new you” hype is subsiding and you can gauge which of your New Year Resolutions are actually important to you. You have over a month’s feedback on how you have approached your goals. You might have made huge progress on some, while others have fallen by the wayside — and now is the time to figure out why.

Stepping stones

How do your goals make you feel?

Are you excited by them? Scared of them? Frustrated that you haven’t made more progress? Feeling any emotion at all is a good sign, because it means you care about the goal. It’s not something you have chosen arbitrarily.

Examine these emotions. Ask yourself why you are feeling each particular emotion. Sometimes this will be straightforward: you might be excited by your goal to start a particular course because it’s something you have wanted to do for a long time and you are passionate about te subject. Sometimes you will have to pick apart the thoughts and beliefs you hold about a particular goal to figure out why you are feeling an emotion.

Here is an example of a more complex process of unpacking an emotion: you feel angry about your goal to lose weight. You want to lose weight to be healthier and aren’t feeling pressured by anyone else, so why are you angry? What does the goal say about you? It says you are carrying excess weight (in your opinion), so what beliefs do you hold about this excess weight? You might think it means you have been lazy or greedy. You used to be slim and fit, but you have let yourself down. You are angry because you gained weight and now you have to make an effort to lose it.

If you are experiencing negative emotions in relation to your goals, see if you can reframe your feelings. Anger, in the above example, could be channelled into determination if you make an effort to be more compassionate towards yourself and stop focusing on the weight gain. Fear is often mixed with excitement — they share a lot of symptoms, like an increased heartbeat and feeling jittery — so practice telling yourself you are excited when you feel scared. It’s a different way of interpreting the uncertainty of what will happen when you work towards your goal.

 

Why did you choose your goals?

It’s easy to set goals which don’t really matter to you. We all get influenced by the people in our lives and society in general. We convince ourselves that achieving a particular goal will make us happy, because that’s how it’s sold to us.

Think about why you selected your goals. Are you hoping it will have potential side effects, such as making you more confident or assertive? If so, why not choose a goal to work on these side effects? It would give you a greater chance of success. Focus on guaranteed results (or as close as you can get): losing weight might or might not improve your confidence, but it will make you healthier if you choose an appropriate target and methods. Finishing writing your novel probably won’t result in a fantasy publishing deal, but it will help you develop your craft and increase your chances of success.

Having a clear vision for why you chose each goal will help you to stay on track when your motivation slips. If it’s someone else’s vision or a vision you know is a lie, it ain’t going to work.

 

Recommit, adapt, sideline or drop.

Use the information you gathered from asking yourself the above questions to decide whether to keep pursuing your goals. There is no shame in dropping goals if they are not what you want. It’s fine to sideline goals which you would like to tackle in future, but can’t or don’t want to prioritise now. Adapting goals isn’t cheating; it’s about refining them so they resemble what you want and how you want to approach them.

Rewrite your goals, even if you haven’t changed them, and recommit to working towards them. Reconnect with your whys. Visualise both working towards and achieving your goals. Be motivated by them. Imagine how you will feel when you achieve your goals.

Don’t judge your goals. So what if they might seem too big or too small to other people? These are your goals and they should be all about you,.

A goal is simply something you want. It can be exotic or mundane. Easy or difficult. Safe or adventurous. Try not to care about what other people think (I know, easier said than done…) and remember, you don’t need to share your goals with anyone who might be unsupportive. You are changing your life — you’re the person who gets the final say on what you want.

 

Sort out your steps.

You don’t need to plan every stage of working towards your goal, but it helps. If nothing else, have a broad idea of the route. There will be inevitable detours and obstacles, but mapping the terrain will help you stay on track.

The most important thing is to plan your first steps. Make them small and easy, so you can cut through your excuses. If you need money to achieve your goal, your first step could be arranging a few extra hours at work or cutting a couple of nonessentials from your budget. Once you complete the first few steps, figure out the next few.

Take action and keep taking action. It’s simple, but it’s not easy.

When you feel demotivated, remind yourself of your whys and keep taking action. Even if it feels pointless. Keep moving. You might not feel like you are making progress, but simply working towards your goal is an achievement in itself. There will be setbacks and times when you feel like you haven’t made progress for weeks or months. You will get angry, frustrated and disappointed from time to time. No matter — just keep breaking down your goal into tiny steps and don’t stop.

 

Cut through your own bullshit.

We are brilliant at lying to ourselves. We say we are working towards our goals when we haven’t made progress in ages. We tell ourselves we haven’t achieved our goals because we lack money, time or good mental health. We give up on goals because believing they are too hard is easier than giving them a fair shot.

Be aware of your favourite excuses and be ready to knock them down whenever they crop up. If your goals have fallen to the wayside, be honest with yourself as to why that is. Have your priorities changed? Are you scared of failure or success? Have you psyched yourself out because your goal seems too complicated?

Stop kidding yourself. If you think you need more time/money/better health to achieve your goal, incorporate those mini-goals into your ultimate goal. Or figure out a way to achieve your goal without getting those things. Seriously. There are millions of examples of people who have achieved goals without having access to resources we view as necessary. Why shouldn’t you do the same?

If you no longer want to pursue your goal — and you’re being honest with yourself about it — have the courage to admit it. Don’t keep saying you want it when you have generated more excuses than action steps. You are allowed to stop, even if you have invested a lot of time, money and energy. Even if other people have sacrificed a lot. Spending more time, money and energy on a goal you no longer want to achieve is pointless, more likely to lead to failure and soul-destroying.

Bullshitting yourself uses up a lot of energy, so save that energy for the stuff you really want to do.

 

Choose your own path.

Setting and working towards goals is a personal endeavour. That’s why it’s important to connect with your goals and stay connected. If your heart isn’t in it, don’t waste your time — choose to do something you will actually enjoy and find fulfilling.

If you are choosing to abandon your New Year Resolutions now it’s February, examine why. Have you honestly stopped wanting to achieve your goals in the past five weeks? Did you choose a goal based on what you thought you should want? Or are you trying to convince yourself you don’t really want to achieve your goals because they involve a lot of hard work and potential failure?

Everyone is scared of failure, even those of us who try to embrace it. I know it’s a cliché to say the only sure way to fail is to never try, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. Another cliché that’s true: we tend to regret the stuff we never tried, not the stuff we tried and failed to do. I try to celebrate failure nowadays, because it’s a sign that I’m trying to change my life — after years of being resigned to misery and despair, it’s refreshing.

So set forth and follow your own path, because you can’t live your life in the constant maelstrom of paying more attention to other people’s opinions and judgements than your own goals and desires. And have you noticed that people who ridicule failure the most, tend to be those who are too scared to work towards significant goals?

Turning Points

I have been thinking about turning points a lot lately — blame the new year! Everyone seems to be talking about their goals or how they have already broken their resolutions. I like talking about goals and how to achieve them, but so much of the discussion is polarising: people tend to be either super-motivated, insisting we can all transform our lives in a millisecond, or pessimistic and resigned to never being able to change. It’s frustrating, because the healthiest attitude, especially for those of us with mental health issues, falls between these black and white views.

Signpost

Turning points are decisions.

Whether you are trying to change your life or your day, getting the desired outcome starts with making a decision. The decision doesn’t guarantee a certain consequence, but it does mean there is a chance of success. It’s more effective than waiting for things to change on their own.

For example, if you are having a bad day and feeling more depressed than usual, you have a choice. You can wait and see how the day plays out, whether something will happen to improve your mood. Or you can decide to do something which might improve your mood.

What you do will vary, depending on your current abilities and access to activities. You might feel better if you could jet off to somewhere sunny, but that isn’t an option for most people — even if you have the money, work and other commitments get in the way. Going for a walk is one of my go-to options, but sometimes anxiety prevents me from going out. Watching a favourite film or TV programme is a good option for accessibility — though others include reading, listening to music and baking.

You might feel no better after trying to change things, but the point is you tried — you took action instead of passively waiting and reacting to anything which happens.

 

How to create a turning point.

1. Decide what you want. What are your current goals? This could be something you have always wanted to do in life or simply changing the course of this week. It doesn’t matter — as long as it’s something you want.

2. Brainstorm ways to achieve what you want. Include everything which comes to mind, even if it seems stupid. If you get stuck, research ways other people have achieved similar goals.

3. Evaluate your options. Are they healthy? Realistic? Accessible? What would you need to fulfil each course of action? Don’t dismiss something just because it will be difficult, especially if it’s something you really want, but be aware of potential pitfalls.

4. Pick a course of action. Decide what to do and consider the steps involved. Your course of action may be single, consisting of a single step, or it could be complex. Again, research any aspects of your plan which you don’t know how to go about — fill in the blanks.

5. Take the first step. This is your turning point. No matter how small it seems, it could make a difference to you. Whatever the outcome, be proud of yourself.

 

Keep creating new turning points.

Improving your situation in the long term involves consistency and persistence. Success is more likely if you stick to your course of action and keep going. However, there will be setbacks and pitfalls. You will mess up. You will stray from the path you have chosen.

If this happens, don’t beat yourself up; just create a new turning point. No matter how many times you fail or let yourself down, you can always decide to change. Point yourself in the right direction, take the first step and don’t turn back.

Accumulating Expertise

Living with long term mental health problems involves a lot of trial and error. While some treatments and strategies have a high success rate in general, the only way to find out what works for you is experimentation – repeated experimentation. Strategies can vary in their effectiveness, both across time and in different situations. Some treatments are more difficult to access than others, such as talking therapies, which can be all but impossible to secure over long periods of time unless you can afford to pay for a private therapist or counsellor. Sometimes life gets in the way of your ability to implement strategies. During particularly bad episodes, nothing seems to work.

 

Capturing Information

One of the most challenging aspects of mental health is its pervasiveness. It affects every area of your life: career, finance, relationships, fitness, etc. – all of which also affect your mental health. Combined with fluctuations in symptoms, these factors make it difficult to assess the effectiveness of the various treatments and strategies you use to manage your mental health. Pinpointing correlations is difficult, let alone determining potential causes and effects.

Recording information about your symptoms, treatments and coping strategies presents more challenges. When you are experiencing a bad episode, symptoms saturate your everyday life and making notes is the last thing on your mind. When you feel relatively well, recording information seems like an unnecessary hassle. Achieving any level of consistency is improbable.

There are also benefits and disadvantages to different types of record keeping. Writing in a journal is my preferred method, because it helps me to process my thoughts and feelings. It captures a lot of rich, complex information and gives me insights into my mental health which would not otherwise be recorded. However, using a journal takes time to write and more time to review. Since the information is purely qualitative, it can be difficult to measure progress or decline.

Another popular method of tracking mental health is using a system which asks you to rate your mood and/or other symptoms at regular intervals. You can do this through using an app or one of the questionnaires used by mental health professionals, such as the Warwick-Edinburgh Mental Wellbeing Scale. Bear in mind that when an assessment tool is designed to be used by professionals, it may not be user-friendly or suitable for self-assessment. If you would like to try the Warwick-Edinburgh Mental Wellbeing Scale, the NHS has a handy guide for using it to assess yourself: http://www.nhs.uk/Tools/Documents/Wellbeing%20self-assessment.htm

The main drawback of using a quantitative rating or tracking system is that the information captured is reductive. It tells you nothing about the context of your symptoms, unless you make additional notes. These systems are best used in combination with qualitative information – at the very least, noting which treatments/strategies you are using and any major contextual factors, like whether you have been having family problems or have an important deadline looming. However, it provides measurements which you can evaluate over time to spot patterns and determine which treatments/strategies work for you.

Full disclosure: I think tracking your mental health with quantitative methods is a great idea in theory, but it hasn’t worked for me in practice. I used an app called Moodtrack for a while and it was useful – when I remembered and felt able to use it. It allows you to make notes when you assess your mood, so you can record other symptoms, any activities in which you are engaged, external influences, current preoccupations… anything which you think might have an impact on your mental health. The information is easy to review, but doesn’t give me the same insights as journaling. Neither does tracking my mood and symptoms improve my mood in the short term, whereas using a journal makes me immediately feel better.

 

Research and Development

Finding the strategies which work for you involves a vital first step: being aware of potential strategies. You can learn about what works for other people from a variety of sources, including books, forums, blogs, social media and chatting – just beware of people who portray a certain treatment or strategy as a miracle cure. Most people find they have to use a variety of treatments and strategies to manage their mental health, although one or two strategies may be at the core of their approach.

Try to keep an open mind when considering strategies; often, activities which seem insignificant or a little strange can have a big impact. For example, meditation is frequently dismissed as being too hippy-dippy or a waste of time, but scientific studies and anecdotal evidence testify to its efficacy. You may not realise the value of a strategy until you stop doing it, which is what happened when I failed to use my SAD lamp regularly last winter. It’s fine to give up on strategies if they are too time-consuming or otherwise impractical, but commit to giving them a fair shot first.

Choose one or two strategies at a time: trying to incorporate too many at once is tricky, puts you under too much pressure and makes it difficult to tell which strategies (if any) are having a positive effect. Start with the ones which you think might make the most difference to you, or which are easiest for you to implement. Activities which don’t need any special equipment, like walking and meditation, are good starting points. Strategies which can be done inside your home also tend to be more accessible, like mindfulness colouring and yoga.

Anything you can do to make it easier to try certain strategies is a great idea. This could mean exercising with a friend for support, joining a class to keep motivated or setting reminders on your phone for self-care activities. Think about what you need. What are your particular preferences and obstacles? Selecting strategies which you believe you will enjoy is a good way to ensure you keep doing them long enough to assess their effects. Think about how you can increase the enjoyment factor of specific strategies, such as listening to your favourite music when you run.

Keep reading about mental health, but remember that you can find strategies which can help you to manage your mental health in other fields. For example, I find that decluttering lifts my mood and helps reduce my anxiety. I also feel better when I watch films, read and study. You may discover that different strategies work at different time, so have another shot at strategies which previously haven’t worked for you to see if anything has changed. This was the case for me with running: I tried it in my late teens and hated it, but now use it (along with other types of exercise) as one of my core strategies.

 

Expectations and Judgments

Mental health problems can be unpredictable. Everything can be going well and then, without warning, your symptoms worsen and your mental health plummets. It isn’t fair and you think there must be a logical reason for the decline, so you blame yourself. Maybe you didn’t implement your strategies as well as you could have, or you think you should have done more. You expected your mental health to improve or remain constant, but it didn’t – so you judge yourself for failing to live up to your expectations.

In an ideal world, you would be full of self-compassion and never judge yourself, expecting nothing and accepting everything with gratitude. That obviously isn’t going to work in real life: it is normal and natural to feel frustrated, angry and disappointed when your mental health dips. We grow up with the myth that if we work hard, we will be rewarded. We don’t like to be reminded that this isn’t always true, especially when we are the ones disproving the myth. Mental illness sucks precisely because you can everything to the best of your ability, incorporating coping strategies and seeking treatment when needed, only to slide into another awful episode.

I haven’t found a solution which enables me to control my expectations and stop judging myself – but I’m better than I used to be. You have to keep reminding yourself that you are not to blame for your mental illness. You have to try to enjoy the relatively good episodes and appreciate them. Most of all, you have to keep hoping you will get the balance right.

 

Achieving Balance

Managing long term mental health conditions is a balancing act. There will be times when you wobble and times when you topple over; the trick is learning how to regain balance. Picking yourself up after a bad episode is horrible. It feels like all your hard work has been erased and you are back to square one. But this is never true.

Every time a bad episode knocks you off balance, you learn something. It can take a long time to realise what you have learnt, but it is true. Every time you dust yourself off and manage your mental health well enough to see infinitesimal improvements in your symptoms, you learn something. Maybe you learn that you are stronger and more resilient than you believe. Or perhaps you find support in unexpected places, from new friends or acquaintances who have always been at the periphery of your life but now step up to help. You might learn about which values contribute to your wellbeing, finding hope in creativity, generosity or nurturing.

I think experiencing long term mental health issues is a process of learning. You are accumulating expertise about yourself and your particular mental health problems. You learn about what feeling mentally well means for you and which strategies help you get there. You learn to notice when your symptoms worsen and you need to increase self-care activities. You learn when to ask for help and what help you need.

You learn a lot about other people, too. You learn that some people are insensitive bastards who spread negativity wherever they go. You learn that others are ignorant and have no idea what impact their words and behaviour have on vulnerable people. You learn that some people are spiteful and will use your mental illness as an excuse to bully and abuse you.

However, you also learn that a lot of people are kind and caring. There are people who dedicate huge amounts of their time to helping you, both in official capacities and through friendship. You learn that your true friends will listen without dismissing your problems or telling you about people who are worse off. You learn who you can rely on for support during the darkest times, when you can’t even trust yourself.

Most of all, you learn a great deal about yourself when you experience mental health problems. It forces you to examine your life and what you would like it to be. You learn that you can cope with more than you thought possible. You learn about true strength, courage and confidence, which are not about presenting yourself as imperturbable and indestructible, but are about following your own path even when you feel like giving up.

Accumulating expertise in your own life is hard work and difficult, but brings many rewards. It helps you deal with the bad times, but also helps you seize opportunities during the good times. It helps you to recognise your vulnerability as strength and develop empathy for others. It helps you to live your life.

Refighting Battles

One of the most frustrating and exhausting aspects of having a long term mental illness is you have to fight the same battles again and again. It’s not like a video game, where you pass a level and never have to retake it. Just because you manage to do something one day doesn’t mean you can cope with it the next.


Winding lane

It’s like Groundhog Day without a clear learning curve.

Symptoms of mental illness can fluctuate a lot. I know I mention this a lot, but it’s one of the core truths that people who haven’t experienced mental health problems find difficult to grasp. Even on a “good” day, you have to battle symptoms. They may not be as intense as they are on “bad” days, but they are still present.

Today, for instance, I went for a walk on my own (well, with my dog) for the first time in a while. I haven’t been walking him in the daytime during the summer because it has been either far too hot or raining. People who aren’t familiar with mental health issues might think I found this easy: it has only been a couple of months since I last went for a walk alone, I walk the route with my parents all the time and my mental health has been gradually improving since spring. I should have no problems, right?

Actually, I felt anxious. It took me several hours to work up to doing it and my mind generated a plethora of excuses and unnecessary worries. I felt better when I started walking, but I was still nervous. I kept thinking something bad might happen, that I would get hit by a car or fall over. I worried about meeting other people and feeling incredibly awkward if they tried to make conversation. I ruminated on whether it was too hot for the dog to be out, because the sun started shining despite the low-ish temperature. I was bombarded by symptoms of anxiety.

I shall reiterate: today is a good day. I enjoyed my walk and managed to break out of my negative thought patterns several times. I felt better for tackling the challenge. The point is, I may always have to cope with my symptoms. There may be a day in the future when I can leave the house without planning in advance and feeling anxious, but I’m not counting on it. I have to refight the battle every time I go out alone.

 

And there are many battles to refight.

Many of the things I do on a daily basis take effort. By writing this blog post, I am battling against anxiety and depression: my mind is filled with thoughts like “Why bother writing? It’ll be terrible no matter how hard you try” and “nobody is going to read it anyway”. I battle through because a). I enjoy blogging and writing about mental health, and b). I know there is a chance that my experiences may help other people to understand mental health problems or, if they are experiencing mental health issues themselves, to feel less alone.

I have to accept that these battles need to be refought over and over. It’s annoying and frustrating. It makes me sad and angry. It’s a real bitch. But the alternative is doing nothing.

Refighting battles is hard, but necessary. Many of the battles seem ridiculous, like motivating myself to eat proper meals instead of crisps, but I have to keep fighting. I know each battle takes me closer to achieving my goals and leading a better life, but it doesn’t feel like that when you are out on the battlefield.

 

Yet every battle you win makes you a little stronger.

I certainly don’t feel stronger every time I get through a mundane challenge, but getting through each battle gives me a little confidence. There are times when I get so distressed that even if I win the battle it doesn’t seem worth it, but these comprise a small percentage of my battles. The learning curve might not be clear, but it’s there — hidden under all the fluctuating symptoms. Every battle won imparts a lesson.

Today’s lesson is this: sometimes it feels pointless to refight the same battles because there is no clear indication of progress, but like a character in a video game, you are gaining experience points. I just hope I level up soon!

Lessons from Machu Picchu

It’s just over 2 months since I completed my trek to Machu Picchu and I’ve only begun processing the experience. It still feels a little unreal, like a bizarre dream – only one which everyone knows about! I have been trying to make sense of it all and some lessons have emerged…

Machu Picchu view
  1. You get to decide what your goals are, but not how you achieve them.

If you had told me what I would have to battle in order to reach Machu Picchu, I doubt I would have tackled the challenge. I faced physical illness, a decline in my mental health and bereavement – and that was during the preparation. The trek itself brought the joys of constant rain, altitude sickness, a throat infection and panic attacks. It was worth it in the end, but I wouldn’t have chosen to go through any of those additional challenges.

I thought my toughest difficulties would be improving my physical fitness and social anxiety. These were factors in making the trek one of the biggest challenges of my life, but they were overshadowed by the ones mentioned above. Everyone knows that life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans (which is a phrase I always hear as John Lennon sings it, though I know he probably wasn’t the first to say it), but sometimes life throws so much crap at you that you think there must be a sadistic god somewhere, having a laugh as he hurls misfortunes your way.

Yet I still achieved my goal. I achieved it because I wanted it more than almost anything else in my life.

You get to define what you want out of life and the only way you will get what you want is by defining it; goals give you a target, something to drive towards. You don’t get to dictate exactly how you get what you want, because there will always be obstacles flung in your path, but you can try one way and change course when needed. As long as you keep trying, there is a chance you will get there in the end.

 

Peru mountain home
  1. Your limits are further away than you realise.

I felt like I was being pushed to my limit many times during both the trek itself and my preparations. On the last day of the trek, getting derailed every few minutes by panic attacks as I climbed the 3000 (apparently) steps to the Sun Gate, I thought I would never get there. I stumbled along, feeling utterly wretched. Yet I didn’t reach my limit – I wasn’t even as close as I’d felt at the time.

I was walking. Very slowly, but I was upright. If I had been close to my limit, I would have been crawling. And yes, I would have crawled before I quit.

I was stronger than I realised, though I felt weak. I think this is something I need to apply to the rest of my life, especially during worse episodes of mental illness. I think most people would be surprised at what they can achieve – if only they would set themselves bigger goals. Myself included.

 

  1. Most people want you to succeed.

Sure, there are some nasty, petty people in this world who take pleasure in other people’s failures and miseries, but the majority want others to do well. I have received a lot of support, encouragement and congratulations over the past year – some of it from unexpected sources. People like seeing others achieve their goals; especially when doing so helps others.

This makes a lot of sense: people are in a better position to help others when they are successful. By supporting others in achieving their goals, you might be helping yourself (and others) in the long run. Unfortunately, some people have a win-lose mentality, whereby they see someone else’s success as their own failure. This is nonsense in most circumstances, when people are not competing directly for a limited reward, but it’s an attitude to which some people cling. They view life as an individual race, not a team game.

Seeing others succeed can also inspire and motivate you. From the moment I signed up for the trek, I hoped that my experience would inspire other people – especially those with mental health problems – to follow their dreams. I have since found out that at least one person has done so as a result of seeing me achieve my goal, which makes every single moment of struggle and despair well worth the effort.

 

Winay Wayna ruins
  1. You can help yourself and others – there’s no need to choose.

Following on from my previous lesson, achieving your own goals can help others – even if the link isn’t apparent. I thought of my goal of trekking to Machu Picchu as inherently selfish, despite the fact that I was self-funding and raising money for Amnesty International, because I wanted first and foremost to do it for myself. I hoped to inspire others, but my main motivation was to prove to myself that I could realise a long-held dream.

I think this was symptomatic of my own version of the win-lose mentality. While my “winning” didn’t necessitate another person’s loss, I thought of the trek as an individual pursuit. In reality, it was a team game.

The obvious teammates were my fellow trekkers, guides and our group’s doctor, without whom I wouldn’t have reached my goal. We cheered each other on through the most miserable moments, when we were cold and soaked through, denied even a decent view by fog/low cloud.

Everyone’s support was incredible. There were so many kindnesses. My roommate lent me fresh socks and carried my bag and walking poles up the monkey steps near the end of the trek. Team B (who know who they are!), kept my spirits up when I wanted to collapse on the bloody mountain and stay there. My success is their success.

However, I also had a great support team at home. My parents lent me money, enabling the whole challenge. My dad drove me to Heathrow and back (partly as my birthday present, to be fair), so I wouldn’t have to deal with the added stress of coping with public transport. My mum walked miles – literally – up hills to help me train. My friends kept encouraging me through the darkest moments, when I didn’t know whether I could carry on living, let alone training. Again, my success is their success.

I also realised that everyone I just mentioned (and more besides) took pleasure in my success. Just as I am glad when my friends and family achieve their goals. There might not have been an obvious or direct link which benefits others, but that doesn’t mean others didn’t benefit in some small way.

In fact, assuming your goals don’t cause direct harm to others, I would go so far as to say that achieving your goals always benefits other people – if only because you are showing them it’s possible.

 

Machu Picchu view
  1. Every step is significant, though most of them feel insignificant.

As long as you are moving forward, you are getting closer to your goal. It might not feel like you are progressing fast enough, or like you are progressing at all, but taking any action is a vital step. Again, this is something I need to apply to my life in general – I often feel frustrated because I’m not achieving my goals as quickly as I’d like. Of course, if your goal involves walking to a destination, there is a clear path (or at least direction) which will lead you there. For less tangible goals, you need to keep faith that you will reach your destination as long as you keep taking action.

When I was trekking to Machu Picchu, the majority of my steps felt insignificant. Having a clear path and destination, not to mention guides, didn’t stop my mental battles from hindering my progress. Blind faith didn’t keep me going – stubbornness did.

You have to apply the same determination to working towards your goals, regardless of how insignificant each step seems. The only other option is giving up, which is the one sure way to failure. I think individual steps will always tend to feel insignificant and it’s only in hindsight that you can see how fully they contribute to achieving your goals. It’s part of the challenge, to keep taking action when it feels pointless.

 

As I said, I’m still processing everything.

These are the initial lessons I have learnt, but I feel like the challenge has changed me in ways that I’m yet to notice or appreciate. The changes aren’t exactly what I expected either – sure, I have more confidence and am determined to achieve more goals, but I am still dealing with anxiety and depression so they get in the way. I wasn’t anticipating a dramatic transformation, but part of me is disappointed that I didn’t get one.

I guess the main change is that I trust my intuition more. My instinct told me that trekking to Machu Picchu would be one of the best decisions I have ever made (as much as I dreaded it might turn out to be the worst) and I believe that’s true. It was an incredible experience. Trusting my intuition more has also brought me closer to my core values, making me think more deeply about how I want to live my life.

I guess I have to wait and see what the long-term effects of my Machu Picchu challenge will be. Perhaps the dramatic transformation will manifest in the future…

Mental Health and the Cult of Busyness

People seem to like being busy nowadays. If work doesn’t take up enough of their time, they schedule leisure and side projects with alarming rigidity. Even children have their “free” time segmented into extracurricular classes, clubs, groups and playdates. They then complain that they never have enough time – except it’s not complaining, because they detail their many activities in such a way that it’s showing off. Claiming “I don’t have the time” has become shorthand for “Look how busy and important I am.”


The implication is that if you don’t fill your days with a list of tasks longer than all of your limbs combined, you don’t matter. You’re not important. So where does that leave those of us with mental health problems?

I can’t schedule every minute of my day because I don’t know how my mental health will affect me on any given day. The best I can do is work around my mental illness. I can spend hours “doing nothing” – not out of choice, but because anxiety and depression paralyse me. I get trapped in negative thinking patterns and it drains my energy.
I would prefer to be able to fill my day to the brim, but I don’t think that’s particularly healthy. It places a lot of pressure on people, especially when things don’t go according to plan (which is inevitable at some point). If I try to live like this (and I have, in the past), I go into meltdown. My mental illness gets worse and I lose sight of what is truly important. Unfortunately, many people live like this without questioning its effects, because busyness has become the norm.

Busyness seems to be embedded in our culture. Whereas in past centuries people worked long hours to put food on the table, many people nowadays work to get more – more gadgets, more exotic holidays, more expensive cars, bigger houses. The problem is that a lot of this stuff is meaningless. It doesn’t make people happier and has a negative impact on their mental health. Is it a coincidence that mental illness appears to have increased as society has amassed more money and consumer goods?

Perhaps the cult of busyness wouldn’t be such a problem if it didn’t involve so much judgment.

People constantly judge how others spend their time. I know someone who when asked by a colleague whether she was doing overtime on a particular day, said no because she had things to do and was told “well, we all have things to do.” Yes, but it happened to be this person’s birthday – and her father had died suddenly 10 days before. I suggested she should have pointed this out, since funeral arrangements are pretty big priorities, but why should she? Nobody should have to justify how they spend their time.

Yet everyone seems to be clamouring to justify how they decide to spend their own time. How many times have you heard someone rattle off a list of reasons when asked whether they are doing something or attending an event? We feel obliged to explain ourselves when all that’s needed is a simple “no”.

We might feel the need to explain ourselves because other people are so judgmental. I have lost count of the number of times people have told me “I don’t have time to read” when they actually meant “I don’t consider reading a priority”, suggesting that I spend my time frivolously because I have always made time to read. Because reading isn’t important to them, they judge me for reading; they assume I don’t do anything else important, because their fuzzy logic dictates that anyone doing important things doesn’t have time to read. Actually, reading is essential for me because I am a writer. I also consider it vital for cultivating and maintaining good mental health. I think that’s pretty damned important. But why should I have to explain that reading is not just a hobby for me, but an integral part of my career and mental healthcare?

 

A major problem with the cult of busyness is its assumption of uniformity. It assumes we are all alike and have similar priorities which we address in similar ways. Mental health issues are not considered.

Mental illness has forced me to carve out my own path. I can’t fit the mould created by the cult of busyness. And people’s proselytization of the cult of busyness makes me feel worse, implying that I’m inadequate or unimportant. That because I don’t schedule every moment of my life, I don’t matter.

Must-do list

So here is my plea to everyone, whether or not you subscribe to the cult of busyness:

1. Please don’t ask other people to justify how they spend their time.

It’s none of your business. People are free to select their own priorities and organise their lives accordingly. They might be dealing with problems which make it difficult to live what you consider to be a conventional life. They might just have different goals and interests, which means they value activities which you consider worthless and vice versa. It doesn’t matter why they spend their time differently to how you spend yours – they don’t owe you an explanation.

2. Don’t judge how others spend their time.

What seems unimportant to you might be essential for them. You don’t know whether particular activities are coping strategies or simple pleasures in an otherwise difficult life. Many activities have varying purposes and levels of importance in different contexts. For example: cooking can be a decadent hobby for one person, a way to feed their family nutritious food for another and the means of earning a living for another person. Unless you fully understand someone’s situation (which might not be possible, even if you are close), you are in no position to judge how they live.

3. Stop using the phrase “I don’t have the time”.

It’s an excuse, not a reason, and implies judgement of people who choose to make time for whatever you claim not to have the time to do. Everyone has the same amount of time: 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Be honest and say “that’s not a priority for me at the moment” or, better still, stop trying to explain your choices. If someone invites you somewhere and you don’t want to go or have a prior engagement, say so briefly: “no, thank you” or “I’m already booked, but perhaps another time”. If someone asks you if you do something, just say yes or no. If they don’t ask and are just talking about an activity they enjoy, say nothing.

4. Stop showing off about being busy – especially through pseudo-complaints.

Some of us would love to be able to maintain your packed schedule. A successful career and vibrant social life? Yes, please! What you consider chores, others might consider to be components of a dream life. Next time you complain about having to ferry your kids around and clean the house, think about the people who would love to have children and their own home but are prevented from having them by circumstance.

5. Don’t make unsolicited comments about how other people spend their time.

I have a neighbour who thinks it’s amusing to say “all right for some!” when he sees other people sitting in their gardens. Regardless of whether they are also looking after children or have been at work all day. His thought process appears to be “they are relaxing and I am not, therefore I need to point out that I am busy”. I’m sure there is no malicious intent, but the implication, once again, is that he is more important than anyone who is not working or running errands.

Purple scream

This follows on from not judging how other people spend their time; you don’t know whether they have been relaxing all day or are snatching a quick break between tasks. Either way, it doesn’t matter. How they spend their time doesn’t affect you. The “all right for some” comment seems innocuous, but it can be hurtful and harmful. Someone (cough, my mum, cough) says it when she sees me watching TV, which makes me feel annoyed if I have spent most of the day working and upset if my mental health has prevented me from working. As a rule of thumb, don’t comment on how someone spends their time unless it has a direct impact on you – and be sensitive, because you never know what problems they are hiding.

6. Stop creating more work for yourself.

Most people are constantly busy through choice, not necessity. The trouble is, many convince themselves that the opposite is true. Your house will not fall down or turn into a hovel if you vacuum once a week, instead of every other day. If your evening classes have become chores which don’t contribute to your wellbeing or other priorities, they are not worth the sacrifice. Make work emails wait until morning if they are not urgent, instead of frantically answering them at midnight. Busywork can be as much of a time-suck as watching TV for hours – it yields similar results, with none of the pleasure.

7. Consider opting out.

A lot of people who buy into the cult of busyness seem to be stressed and unhappy. If this is the case for you, why not stop? You might be surprised to learn that you can cope with working fewer hours, even if it means only having one holiday a year or going without the latest iPhone, and be happier for doing so. You could discover you have more fun if you just hang out with your partner, instead of scheduling daytrips and dates every weekend. If you are already stressed and unhappy, what have you got to lose?

8. Finally, think about your mental health – and other people’s.

It’s frustrating when people make assumptions about what I can/can’t do, based on their own experiences and/or perceptions of me on good days. There are days when I can out-busy anyone, when I feel motivated, productive and full of energy. But they are few and far between. My mental health problems don’t let me act like a fully paid up member of the cult of busyness.

And that might be a good thing. While some people thrive under pressure (myself included), nobody benefits from constant stress with no respite. Even if you are coping well, consider how your lifestyle might affect your health in future – especially your mental health.

 

Mini Self-Care Strategies

We all know the importance of “big” methods of managing mental health, such as medication and exercise, but it’s easy to overlook the impact of “small” coping strategies. Mini self-care strategies typically take little time and effort, but make a significant impact. But because they seem so small, their importance is easy to downplay — you figure skipping them won’t really matter, ignoring the cumulative effect.

Journal

Acknowledging the importance of mini strategies is the first step.

It took me ages to figure out that the gaps in my journal were not only a symptom of my mental health declining, but also a contributing factor. When I write in my journal regularly, I feel better. Even if it’s just a few lines.Now I recognise how journalling helps me manage my mental illness, I know I need to prioritise it.

Observing patterns in your mental health is an effective way of working out which mini strategies work best for you. You can also experiment, trying new strategies and noting changes in your symptoms. Consider the impact of all your activities — even if it seems unlikely they affect your mental health.

 

Find ways of fitting mini strategies into your life.

Some people respond well to putting tasks on their to-do list (or must-do list), or scheduling them in their planner/calendar. Writing it down reminds you that these mini strategies are important and you should make time for them. However, some people can feel pressured by doing this, which may negate the benefits of the strategies.

The best way of making time for mini self-care strategies is to build them into your routine and make them a habit. For example, I write in my journal when I go to bed — it has become part of my routine, just like brushing my teeth. Piggybacking tasks onto established habits is very effective and easy to implement.

 

What counts as a mini self-care strategy?

Anything which makes you feel better in the long term and which can be done in a short amount of time. Note that these tasks could take much longer, if you choose, but it’s possible for them to have an advantageous effect in 5-10 minutes per day. Obviously, this will vary from person to person, but here are some examples:

• Journalling

• Listening to music

• Meditation

• Sketching

• Yoga

• Reading

• Knitting/crocheting

• Texting/calling a friend

• Gardening

 

Remember to do what works for you.

Perhaps your mini self-care strategies seem a little strange — or completely crazy — but it doesn’t matter, as long as they work for you. The crucial issue is developing the self-awareness to observe what works over a number of days or weeks; sometimes it will feel like your mini strategies aren’t helping, especially if your mental health symptoms fluctuate a lot, but it doesn’t mean they aren’t working in the long term. Stick with it and make notes.

Also keep track of how you feel before, during and after activities which you wouldn’t necessarily associate with self-care. I find that spot of decluttering is beneficial, for instance, although I wouldn’t consider tidying an activity I enjoy — at least, not while I’m doing it!

Don’t underestimate the effect of returning to activities you haven’t done for several weeks or months. Many of my self-care tasks were neglected over winter, when physical illness took its toll and caused a deterioration in my mental health, and I was surprised at how effective simple, little activites were in helping me feel better.

As always, there will be some trial and error involved to find what works for you. But once you find effective strategies, they are vital components in your self-care toolkit.

 

The Therapeutic Side of Writing Fiction

I’m always a little wary when someone asks me if I write as a form of therapy. They usually expect a yes or no, but the answer is complex…

First of all, I don’t want to give the impression that writing is a substitute for talking therapies or other kinds of mental health treatments. While using any kind of art as therapy can be helpful, I think it’s appropriate as a complementary strategy rather than a complete treatment for mental illness in itself. (Sidebar: in my experience, there is no such thing as a complete treatment, but medication and talking therapies come closest, in my opinion).

Secondly, I write for readers. If I write something just for me, it stays in my journal or folder. If I submit stories, I want other people to read and enjoy them. Regardless of whether a particular story has been therapeutic for me to write, the audience is one of my top considerations. This consideration always affects the story and may prevent it from being as therapeutic as it would be were the readers not taken into account.

With those caveats in mind, my answer is yes. I do write as a form of therapy, but there are also many other reasons why I write.

 

Not all writing is equally therapeutic.

To make things a little less complicated, I’m solely talking about writing fiction and specifically short stories, since they constitute the main body of my work to date. However, the therapeutic value of any given story varies a lot: many of my stories have had no therapeutic value, whereas some have been very helpful as therapy.

Can you tell the difference? I have no idea. I like to think I write to a high standard regardless of whether a story has been therapeutic to write, but that might not be the case! Do the more therapeutic stories have more emotional impact? Again, I can’t tell. I hope all my stories have some emotional impact, though the emotional effects depend on the individual story.

 

The raw material, whether it is inspired by life or not, is transformed.

When people hear “therapeutic” in regards to writing, they automatically think of memoir or autobiographical fiction. They assume that in order to be therapeutic, the story needs to bear a strong resemblance to the writer’s lived experience. Often, the opposite is true.

Amanda Palmer, in her excellent book The Art of Asking, talks about the transformation of life experience into art in terms of putting raw material into a blender. She typically uses a low blender setting when songwriting, such as level 3 on a scale of 1-10. In contrast, her husband (the author Neil Gaiman) uses a very high blender setting — often level 10.

I love this analogy. It’s a simple but effective way of demonstrating how two pieces of art can be equally as personal, but very different in terms of recognising the raw material from the finished work.

For me, the more therapeutic the story, the higher my blender setting. I know what raw material has gone into the story, but other people (even those who know me best) would find it all but impossible to tell.

 

The transformation of raw material is the most cathartic aspect of writing.

While pouring out my emotions in my journal can help me feel a little better, it’s the process of transformation that I find most therapeutic. I suppose it correlates with talking therapy: if you recount your experience to a therapist it usually provides a sense of relief, but venting your feelings is just the first step. The most useful part of therapy is questioning and evaluating. There is more value in learning to reframe your experiences and think about them in different ways. Ditto writing.

Transformation is crucial for the story itself, too. In order to be most effective, you need to select and adapt material (whether from life or another source).

You need to choose a focus for the story, to tease out a plot and create characters (even if they are heavily inspired by life) who serve the story. It doesn’t matter if, as many new writers complain, “that’s not how it happened!” Your task is to find the emotional truth at the core of your story and make it shine.

 

Writing is a constructive way of using your experiences — which can help you value them.

Many experiences are awful. Writing is one way I can find value in them — it almost gives them a purpose. This provides another way of helping me to reframe those experiences, so the therapeutic effect continues.

As I said at the beginning of this post, the therapeutic effects of writing fiction complement the other ways ai manage my mental health. If you would like to try writing — or any other art — as therapy, go for it. However, my main reasons for writing have nothing to do with my mental health (except indirectly) and when I approach writing fiction, therapy is never foremost in my mind.