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How Writing Helps Me "Heal"

Writer's picture: LucyLucy

How Writing is Helping Me in “Healing”


I’m not entirely convinced by the word “healing”. It has a connotation that you’re supposed to be “fixed” in healing, back to how you were before, but that’s unrealistic. Perhaps a better understanding of healing is moving towards a sense of calm and contentment, but even this interpretation requires a consistent re-centering with the calmness. When Googling the definition, it tells me that healing is ‘the process of making or becoming sound or healthy again’.


I think the meaning of healing can be different for each person. A big part of it for me is living authentically with the truth. The truth of who I am and what has happened. I can move in and out of healing, it’s not linear, but in general, I want to accept how things are right now. I want to be able to live with what is without feeling I have to avoid things or cover shit up. Of course, this fluctuates.


When it comes to healing from rape, it also involves a lot of work on the body and recovering from the trauma. In all honesty, I’m not entirely sure how my body has healed from rape. I had been in long-term relationships ever since and I had a lot of traumatising sex (because of panic, flashbacks, PTSD). Over time, in exposure to safe sex, with trustworthy partners, and being reminded of my safety, choice, and control, I think my body has learned not to become tense with fear and panic; lowering the defense from triggers. This took time and communication, and it got better when I developed an understanding of trauma. Today, my partner’s acceptance and enthusiasm to communicate has been hugely significant in my healing. Maybe in this context, healing takes on a new meaning which is not feeling restricted by fear.


But how has writing helped me? Writing has provided a person-free outlet, a mirror, and empowering validation. When my thoughts are on a page and out of my head, there is no longer this critical voice, judging and undermining my worth and my experience. Writing has brought me opportunities to process and reflect many thoughts and feelings, as well as bringing a sense of achievement and purpose.


For those of you that don’t know me, I have a degree in Creative Writing (first class, I might add), from which I graduated in July last year (2019). In the final year of my degree, I specialized in writing poetry, creating two collections of self-aware, sometimes funny, spoken word-y poetry. One of which I called Searching Outside.


Searching Outside was a project in which I set out to explore spirituality, self, the soul - god, even - and various scientific interpretations of these concepts. I was brought up without religion or faith, so this project was very much about testing the waters, asking questions, and using the writing as a way to document my experiences and reactions to the research. I didn’t have expectations, I didn't know how the project would turn out. I knew concepts I wanted to explore so I did a lot of research into quantum physics theories and experiments and wondered what these could mean for life and “spirit”.


I went to Churches, I attended talks on Christianity and Physics, I went to a Mind, Body, Spirit festival and met a priest, I interviewed this priest, I went to his services, I read his book on exploring Paganism and having his path “shaken”; I had conversations about quantum physics, I watched documentaries, I read so many books that drew parallels between modern science and spirituality, I came across a lot of pseudoscience, I got mad, I got sad, and, I got totally lost. When writing the third section of the collection I had stopped researching and searching outside of myself, and paused to reflect on how I felt, what was inside me, and listened to the quiet.


After I was raped at 17 years old, I denied being “raped”, declared that what happened wasn’t a big deal, and pushed away any suggestion of needing help. It wasn’t until three and a half years later, in this sudden quiet, that it rose to the surface that it may have affected me. I created an abstract poem using a join the dots format in the shape of a lightbulb where I, for the first time, correlated anxiety, panic attacks, needing to stop in the middle of sex, with ‘the event I’m reluctant to call rape’. Joining the dots together, I had a lightbulb moment (I know, hilarious).


Being free to write whatever came into my head meant I was able to process and work through things that would have previously been stocked up, cycling in my subconscious. After searching outside myself to find chaos and contradiction, I was able to listen to what was calling out to be heard from inside.

Writing all of it down also enabled me to zoom out and look at myself on a page; instead of trying to avoid pain or distract myself, I could see myself with a more objective point of view; a perspective desiring authenticity. I think with this poetry collection, without really feeling restricted by rhythm or rhyme, I was able to express most of what came up from the research I was doing. Although I was also starting to have conversations with selected friends about what had happened and how it affected me, writing really enabled me to see it. After handing in this assignment was when I first reported the rape to the police.


I’m currently studying Songwriting for a Master's degree. Songwriting is a different school of fish for me (lol is that even a thing people say?). For a while, I didn’t write directly about the rape or the aftermath of it, but when given the assignment to write about a significant life event, I thought it was time. To be honest, I thought the song was shit. I think I was disgusted and hurt but still unsure how to deal with those feelings, so the lyric was limited and it didn’t feel like a “song” song,


I can’t find a word that’s violent enough. I hope you know. I’m not alone. I am brave.


The writing process began with these lyrics. They came to me vividly so this is what I stayed with. I didn’t want this creative process to be directed or restricted by form; I wanted it to come freely to itself. Then, I picked up an instrument to help me create harmony and melody, which was a ukulele (something I rarely use). It was slightly out of tune, as well, which made it feel pretty twisted. I think it was appropriately out of tune, since the uke is typically a jolly instrument, combining it with a pretty un-jolly incident is jarring.


Only two chords felt acceptable when creating, and I started singing lightly over. I was definitely hesitant, as though I were discovering the meaning and embodiment of these words as I was singing them. The song developed into a couple of different sections and I ended up recording it acapella, using the harsh T consonants in the first line as punctuation and percussion, and some of the softer vowel sounds in the lyric as supportive chordal harmonies (‘aaaa’, ‘iiiii’). In the final section, ‘I am brave’, the ‘i am’ was isolated and then the word brave extended, and this repeated, with layering vocals and gently discordant harmonies. It was still held back since I was still learning how to validate what I went through, but this was, I think, one of the first times I’d expressed being brave. I did submit the song for a musical language module and it did really well getting 86 marks or something.


In recent weeks I have begun writing about my journey in “healing”, which has been cathartic and validating and I can’t wait to share some of my creations. When I sing loudly, I feel the emotion pouring out of me, sometimes I just sob through a powerful chorus. It’s pretty fucking epic.


Creating Getting Loose started in June as a solo project for validating and processing what happened and how it’s affected me. Then, I became motivated to create change and serve others like my seventeen-year-old self. I wanted to provide pieces of writing which would help others to accept what had happened to them and take steps to get support and begin dealing with it, living in truth (which is such a big part of my healing). Writing in article/blog format meant taking shit seriously, and it prioritised the words and discussion over anything else. In writing for Getting Loose, I have become stronger and braver in myself; I am more assured and equipped to move forward in “healing”. I am more self-aware, and I have an immense sense of purpose in helping others. Writing this has meant I’m not alone because, by sharing my writing, I am reaching out with an understanding that it’s not an isolated experience.


Crucially, writing is different from conversations. When I sit down with a pen and paper, or a laptop and keyboard, I am free to put what is in my head onto a page; I am not restricted by trying to be palatable or trying to avoid judgment. I am free to express myself and get out what is circling in my head. Afterward, I get to look at what I’ve expressed with a new perspective; I can observe, reflect, and move forward with new conclusions and lessons.

Writing is helping me to allow and validate emotions. When I see my thoughts on a page, I no longer look at them with the nasty critic inside me who undermines me and questions my worth. Additionally, if I’m in a less-than-good mood and decide to write about it in a song or whatever, I can process shit and then feel good that I have produced something! There is a sense of achievement and purpose, as well as feeling lighter and usually less shit. This goes for non-rape things too - I do have other stuff going on in my life lmao.


Not everything I write will be of great value to others. Some of the songs I write might be for me to process something I’m angry about and I don’t really know how valuable that is for other people to hear. I want my music and my writing to be of value since it is a service I provide. However, that being said, it is primarily a service to myself… This is something I’ll continue to weigh up when sharing what I create.


If I do decide to share this too, I hope it is of value to you (yes, you, hello!) in your healing.


Luce x


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