How to find healing through writing

It began simply enough. A tool to reach someone with whom I had no other means of communicating. That first letter, handwritten, like I was a pioneer woman, perhaps contained 100 words, at most. What followed was an ongoing practice correspondence, albeit one way, but correspondence, nonetheless. Daily letters capturing my feelings and thoughts and through those words, I discovered a love for writing. Because, through writing I was able to communicate that which I often failed to find the words to vocalize. Through writing, I found my voice and surprisingly, healing.

But why writing?

Do you recall writing term papers in high school or college? I was a Political Science major, yes, I know, why??? Going into it, I could not imagine the amount of writing required. Turns out, term papers were the norm. And not one or two pages, it’s as though I slowly compiled my own textbook. Looking back on those years, I realize I was a procrastinator, I’d roll around the ideas in my head for the paper and not put my fingers to the typewriter – yes, I’m old – until days before it was due. I do the same today. Words would flow effortless onto the pages and I’d easily finish it on time, well, on time by college standards.

Unbeknownst to me, or maybe it was obvious if I’d been paying attention, writing was a passion. In recent years, I’ve blogged with hopes of gaining an audience for other work passions I have, but I think more so for myself. Not until I was on the launch team for Allison Fallon’s book The Power of Writing it Down did I fully realize that through writing, we “metabolize our life.” No wonder it hold power in my life.

Healing through writing

Go figure that the skill we’re taught in kindergarten, or preschool if you’re Baby Einstein, could lead to healing. We struggle through those early skills books. Perfecting the art of first print and later cursive so that we can use it later in life. Looking back nearly 50 years ago to my writing curriculum, who would have know that cursive is all but dead – I question if they teach it in school anymore.

Neuroscientists have found that writing increases neural activity in and activates specific, large, regions of the brain – those responsible for thinking, language, healing and working memory. Handwriting can evoke in the brain similar sensations to meditation. The smooth flow of the hand putting pen to paper stimulates the frontal lobe, also responsible for movement, reasoning, judgement, planning, and problem solving. Handwriting also helps our brain develop a stronger learning capacity.

Why we should reclaim the power of writing

My grown children mock me, on the regular, for how slowly I text. Or that I choose to use voice to text more often than they’d like, often with disastrous results. How Siri translates what I’ve said into words I’d never say in writing is a mystery. But then again, she’s always listening. The children of the digital age, which began swinging into full gear in the 80’s, are often introduced to screens, texting, computers at a young age, and they’re losing the benefits of writing by hand. Honestly, even I’ve tapered in recent years. And while typing out these words is cathartic, it’s not the same as time spent with pen to paper.

I say cathartic because that’s what writing is. Truly a way to “metabolize our lives” as Ally shared in her book. Spending time writing without forethought, but simply letting words flow will lead you to unexpected places. In The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron, morning pages are introduced. The exercise is to write without stopping for three full pages. And though it will help you become a better writer it’ll also help you clear out the junk that clutters your mind. When adopted on a regular basis, the impact may be surprising.

So, why do I write?

Back to the beginning, in those letters, I found a way to express myself. Honestly, I struggle at times to communicate what I’m thinking or feeling. I have plenty to say when it comes to matters outside myself, such as at work, but in matters of the heart. I become tongue-tied or am unable to grasp the words from my foggy mind. I become flooded with adrenaline in a stress response and unable to think clearly. I know, bananas. And though I work at it, my inner self doesn’t want to rock the boat, leaving me paralyzed.

But writing is freeing, because the words don’t fail me when I’m silent as I speak them. The pathway to communication opens in front of me. And the benefits come, sometimes, as I’ve found, unexpectedly. The truth is, 50% or more of what I write isn’t for human consumption. You’re welcome. It’s purely digesting my life. Sometimes into a journal, and others, into the fire. Hidden, or not so hidden, in each of us are slices of life remaining undigested. Writing is a tool to free us of those parts. And you may say “I’m not a writer,” and the truth is, we’re all writers. I encourage you to use the tool you were taught in kindergarten. Maybe learning to write cursive isn’t a lost skill after all. Use it on your journey.

Be brave my friends. Lisa

This year was not about presents, it’s about presence

Do you remember making a Christmas list as a child? I recently took a gander at my 11 year-old nieces’ lists. Let me tell you, things have changed. Here’s a sample: Air pod pros (real – code for ‘don’t cheap out mom and dad’ – my words, not hers), Lululemon leggings, blankets, James Charles eyeshadow palette (I’m a 53 year old woman and don’t know who that is?!?), pretty necklaces, mascara, new comfy pillows, shaving cream. While my list at 11 was probably starting to include clothes, I couldn’t help but laugh, especially when I got to shaving cream. When you’re young, a big part of Christmas is presents. I don’t recall when it happened but there comes a point when Christmas is no longer about presents, it’s about presence.

Families coming together

When I inherited boxes of pictures from my Grandmother, looking through the family history captured by her Kodak 110 camera made me smile. Particularly those of Christmas. Our family would gather in a cramped living room and open presents on Christmas Eve. Grandparents, Great Grandparents, Aunts, my Uncle. There was the year I threw up all over assorted relatives. Convinced I’d been poisoned by a marshmallow chocolate, I swore them off for years. I’m pretty sure though it was just the flu. We all have memories of family gatherings, some more eclectic than others. But at a young age, I cared about presents, it wasn’t about presence.

Before I got savvy to Santa, he made an appearance each year…right around the time my Dad would go missing. I lived in Yosemite Village and my neighbor would also dress up as Santa each year. Parents would leave their ‘Santa gifts’ outside the front door, which he would deliver as he made his way through the Village on Christmas Eve. Traditions those of us raised in that magical setting continue to reminisce about.

Reminiscing this year

If it were not 2020, I would have already jumped on a plane travelling to visit family in Florida. But it is. Families are scattered across the country and unable to gather. Our ‘people’ might be far away, or may be close, but in the name of the greater good, Christmas looks different. Gatherings are reduced, if held at all. My house will have my two grown boys and me. Christmas, party of three.

And although the skirted floor beneath my tree is littered with presents, I’m wishing for more presence. Grateful that I can be with my boys, yes, and missing extended family. Because, contrary to time spent at holidays when we were young, in this phase of life, presence is more important than presents.

Creating a new type of presence

While we may be tired of looking at screens, one positive outcome of 2020 is more face time. Previously, our extended family may have received a phone call every few weeks, but 2020 has invoked a sense of urgency to physically laying our eyes on our people. Early in the pandemic, my Florida family and those of us in California had a weekly Zoom call. After a few months it tapered off, but we still gather online for birthdays or celebrations.

The desire to connect has become stronger in 2020, not only for my family, but for everyone as we’re all impacted by the pandemic. Doing that safely has made physical visits rare. In the early part of 2020, the increase in video app downloads had increased 90% over 2019. It’s our new normal. The ‘present’ we all crave is presence, which we achieve via video chat. Does it allow me to hug my parents, my grandpa, my siblings, nieces and nephews? It does not. But it allows us to be present with each other and see expressions and feel connected.

The path forward

We’re all asking ourselves if next Christmas will be different, if it will be back to normal. My two cents are that what we considered ‘normal’ no longer exists. And, the truth is, normal is not the same for all. While many families have complicated relationships, some have trauma and dysfunction that this year may have provided a break from…or amplified. Normal is subjective. Will next Christmas return to what each of us have experienced in the past, whatever shape or form that took? I can not predict, and for some, that is a relief.

What I do know is that presence will remain more important than presents. You may find that connection with family, or with friends who are family. My hope is that we’ll continue to work collectively be safe, and to improve the ways we gather. In the meantime, continue to schedule your video calls and let your people see your face when you tell them how much they mean to you and I love you. That’s the type of present we all need. Be Brave my friends. Lisa

The messy middle – it’s unavoidable

Pancakes and a girlfriend, is there a better combo for Saturday morning breakfast? No. Because while lingering over gluten free pancakes and eating ‘just one more bite,’ I’m fairly certain we solve the world’s problems. At least our world. During a recent breakfast, at the end of a particularly windy trail of topics, she made a comment,

“I’m not who I was then.”

Bam, Elvis has left the building. We paused for a moment realizing all the work we’d done from starting points that were ugly at best, but we wouldn’t have gotten there without the messy middle.

The part we want to skip

Already on my mind, the messy middle poked me earlier in the week during a book launch call. I’m on a team helping author Allison Fallon launch her upcoming book, The Power of Writing it Down. Honestly, being on the team is a gift because we spend an hour each week with Allison talking about the book, one chapter at a time. And the questions that arise are powerful. This week, we spoke about the question authors pose at the onset of a book that keeps the reader turning the pages, waiting for the answer, which doesn’t come until the end. Answer the question any sooner, you lack a compelling reason for the reader to continue.

But that middle part, it’s where all the juicy stuff happens. While I am not one of these people, I know there are some who skip ahead to the last page, jumping past the building suspense because they want the answer now. If only we could follow achieve answers that easily in our own lives.

The middle is where we narrate the answers

Thinking back to four years ago when my girlfriend and I began our pancake ritual (not every week mind you, we’d be diabetic by now from the syrup), our lives were like a yard sale after a tornado. I’d reached a point where tough choices needed to made and although painful, they launched me into a phase of self-discovery. Otherwise known as reaching midlife. Believe me, if I could have read a book or downloaded the answers that came to me during that phase, I would have. I was smack in the messy middle. The tears, heartache, learning, discovering, growth, joy, struggling, heartache… all brought me to today.

You see, the messy middle, or, the middle space, is where we think it through. At the onset, like the beginning of a book, we don’t have the answers yet. Experience is the road to the answers. The middle space is where we have time to examine and learn so that we can have a different answer. We’ve had time to think, process, feel the shift in our bodies and hearts and understand what our intuition is telling us.

It takes time

Depending on your reading speed, a day, a week, a month later, you reach the end of the book, and get your answer. Hopefully, if the author has done their job, it’s one that satisfies you, or perhaps provokes you – both are reasonable outcomes. If only we could zip through life’s lessons like we would a compelling novel. But we can’t. And if that’s not enough, we can’t project plan it out, setting the end date where we’ll put down our pen and be done. We cannot predict the duration of the messy middle. And truthfully, if we took a shortcut, we’d miss necessary lessons.

And then one day…

You have a situation, one which brings back the familiar guttural feelings from the beginning. But this time, you choose differently. Instead of listening to your thoughts as though they are truth, you ask yourself questions. You have new skills. You’ve developed new insights you understand yourself more completely. So, when you feel your throat tightening (in my case), or your stomach knotting (also in my case), you ask why. And you make a decision that reflects who you are today.

If you think about your own life and who you were four years ago compared to who you are today, are you the same person? Change is part of life and in fact, if we’re not changing, we’re stagnating. And the people around us, especially the ones who’ve been there awhile, they’ve had the privilege of witnessing our change. But I’d be remiss not to acknowledge that you might lose some of those people along the way because they aren’t comfortable with your change. That’s ok. Hard, but ok. Borrowing from Glennon Doyle in her newest book Untamed, we can do hard things, you can do hard things because, “You’re a goddamn cheetah.”

You have to go through the messy middle and know that I’m in it with you. One day, you’ll wake up and think, “I’m not who I was then,” and you’ll know it was worth it. Be brave my friends. Lisa