Psalm 9.1-2 – I’m thank you, God, from a full heart, I’m writing the book on your wonders. I’m whistling, laughing, and jumping for joy; I’m singing your song, High God. (The Message)
Everyone can write. Anyone can write if they put their pen to paper and just let the unconscious part of their mind take them into a world they never could have imagined. Writing was my most valuable therapy. It was a form of purging. I would gather all these emotions of grief inside of me, and they would consume me so much that I felt like I was suffocating. I knew from experience that the only way to get rid of all these emotions was to write them down, and write I did.
Writing became part of my daily life. I would write, and I would cry. I would purge myself from the intense emotions of grief. But it helped me. I have written so much in the last years, it is hard to imagine what life would be like without writing.
The point I am trying to make is, don’t be afraid to try and write down what you are feeling. Maybe it will help you. Maybe it won’t. Maybe if you write, you can scrunch the paper into a ball and throw it away. Often, I would write, and then delete, or save and not share it with anyone. Gradually, I started sharing some of my writing with the world, and so a book was formed.
I am not necessarily saying you should write a book about your experiences. All I am saying is: write something, paint something, do something with your grief, but don’t bottle it up. Don’t let it fester into this big, ugly wound. Let it go. Give it all to God. Surrender it to God. Set it all down at the foot of the cross, and He will heal you. And you will be free. You will become whole with time. This won’t happen overnight. It is a long drawn out process but worth it.
Sometimes I would write down prayer letters as a way of talking to God, afraid to use my voice because I was afraid I was going to be angry with him. Angry at him for taking away my son. But gradually, God’s love and compassion began seeping into my world, and I started healing.