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Art Therapy

I’ve recently been organising and re-decorating my room and I found quite a few of my old diaries. Diaries of a time where I appeared to be pretty dejected; I almost seemed like a different person. The inner thoughts I expressed in my past diaries made me appreciate how much I had grown.
I was going to throw them away, but before I did, I wanted to acknowledge how I felt and really appreciate my progress. I wrote words of encouragement, scribbled over my sadness and doodled pictures on my pages of grief.
I found an extract of something I wrote a few years ago and turned it into poetry:
I didn’t give up hope. I grabbed my notepad and pen from beside me and started to write the words ‘things that make me happy’. I sat there in silence for a while, staring atthe words on the blank page in front of me. I thought about my family, friends and hobbies, and although I knew these things bought me joy, I felt nothing. I felt my chest sink as I stared at the words on the page: ‘things that make me happy’. I took a deep breath and shut my eyes tightly but I could feel the lump forming in my throat, and as soon as I opened them again, tears were rolling downmy cheeks and onto the empty page in front of me. All I could think was the worst. And I guess the worst thing about being depressed is you don’t even know what makes you happy anymore.
I hope.
My notepad and pen
And words
Make me happy.
I sat there
In words
In front of me
My family, friends and hobbies
Bought me joy
I felt the words on the page: happy
I took the lump in my throat
And I opened my cheeks
Onto the page in front of me,
All I could think was happy.

I sat at my desk for hours jotting down new things and crossing the old words out. And I’m so glad I did because I remember feeling so low. I remember feeling completely engulfed in my sadness that I didn’t think things could get any better, but I’m here now and things are better. This also means there is huge possibility that things may get better than this, and that thought alone, is enough to keep me going.

– peace and love, Emily ox

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