It is well documented that writing can be extremely therapeutic, and I have always personally found this to be the case. In this slightly longer than usual article, I explore the impact that writing has had on my life, and I also chat with two other memoir authors about their own experiences.
I started writing a diary in 1980 when I was sixteen years old, although my love of writing goes back as far as I can remember. For thirty years, I kept a daily diary, recording events and feelings of the day. Some years I had a whole page to fill, others just a few lines. In any case, I often spilled out of the diary pages if I had something that I needed to write. For instance when my mother died over thirty years ago, I wrote her a series of very long letters. Initially, I expressed just how angry I was at her for leaving me. As I gradually began to accept that she was gone, and to mature a bit, the letters became more chatty and philosophical; I filled her in on what was going on in my life and shared my innermost thoughts with her, as I did when she was alive.
Baikie and Wilhelm (2005) offer a fascinating read about the benefits of writing. Specifically, they confirm that "writing about traumatic, stressful or emotional events has been found to result in improvements in both physical and psychological health, in non-clinical and clinical populations." Writing really helps. On the occasions when I have had therapy for my mental health issues, I have been encouraged to write as part of the healing process. Writing for my mental health can take various forms. Sometimes it simply means writing out words that mean something to me personally and then looking for themes and how these connect to my thinking. I am prone to catastrophic thinking, and writing things down helps to ground me in reality, and to organise my thoughts in a more productive way. Sometimes I do exercises, either set by my therapist or when I am doing an online course. When I am at my most depressed, doing some task-focused writing makes me feel I have achieved at least something with my day. And sometimes I write letters that will never be sent. In these, I absolutely let rip, saying exactly what I am thinking, and how I am feeling. I wrote one last year to a close family member who was extremely rude about me, not realising I could hear what they were saying. Boy, it felt good to swear and rant at them on paper, in private. That letter was written using old fashioned pen and paper. It felt good to let the pen flow across the page as I raged away. Others I have written on the laptop; it just depends how I feel on the day.
Having written all my life in both a professional and personal capacity, I was still somewhat daunted at the prospect of writing a book. This was the first time that I would write something personal that was for anyone to see. It took a year to research, write and publish it and during that time, I went through an unexpected roller-coaster of emotions. I thoroughly enjoyed researching for the commentary sections on LGBT+ culture and history, and I was thoroughly moved conducting and writing up the interviews with 24 LGBT+ people. Tears of joy and pain were had by me and some of the people I interviewed and I was simply blown away by their honesty and bravery.
When it came to writing my own story though, at first I wasn't quite so brave. While I did speak about my mental health and the experiences I had as a child and young person that deeply affected me, I didn't delve too far, skimming over the details. What I wrote in my draft manuscript was, as a result, a little vanilla, a little bland. I didn't think anyone would be interested, and anyway, I didn't really want to go there. It was my editor who encouraged, nudged and gently coerced me to delve deeper and expose myself more. They said it would be difficult but that it would make my book better. They were right on both counts. Writing in detail about what a severe panic attack feels like and about my suicide attempt was very hard to do, and was emotionally draining. Baikie and Wilhelm point out that this is a normal response: the initial reaction to writing about traumatic events can be distressing, even causing physical symptoms. This was certainly the case for me; I found it very difficult and it triggered my anxiety.
What happened next was for me nothing short of cathartic. My words made my editor cry, in a good way they said. I had done it; I had revealed my inner self, taking off the mask of being alright that I hid behind. And it was OK. It was more than OK, It felt bloody wonderful. This was me coming out once and for all about my mental health issues. Since my book has been published, I've been gobsmacked at the positive feedback I have had, and where it's come from. It's been enriching and affirming to experience. I've been called brave. I didn't feel particularly brave, more terrified, about the prospect of exposing myself through being published, but on balance, it's been such a good thing to do. I still have severe anxiety and depression, but I am not ashamed of my mental health anymore; I accept anxiety and depression as part of me. I can't say I embrace having them, as it's exhausting and debilitating at times, but I refuse to keep pretending they don't exist. My demons.
I met Nin when I offered to beta read her manuscript after seeing a post of hers in a Facebook writers' group. When I say "met," we have never met face to face, but we have bonded over our shared experiences of writing and having mental health issues. While I was beta reading her manuscript, she was reading my just published book. Unlike me, who has had anxiety and depression for as long as I remember, Nin had no experience of mental health issues before her illness, and mental health was not something she had ever even thought about. She was a successful career woman and mother and life was predictable and stable, just how she liked it. Then, she experienced a sudden onset illness called labyrinthitis which left her permanently deaf in one ear and dizzy. She went overnight from boardroom to bedroom, unable to move without being violently ill. At first, it took all her energy and focus just to deal with her physical condition. Her mental health issues crept up on her six months later. She has no idea what changed to trigger her to begin struggling mentally, but guesses that when the dust settled, she had time to become introspective. One day, she was scrolling on her phone calmly, when out of the blue, she had a panic attack. Having no idea what was happening, she went to the emergency department where she was diagnosed. From then on she continued to have crippling anxiety and panic attacks.
"My body changed state as if to say, Okay, the initial threat is over, let's be vigilant and scan for if it ever comes back." It was as if her mind was looking for potential threats that could affect her, like the illness had, And when it found what it perceived to be a threat, she would suffer with an acute burst of panic and fear.
"I felt out of control and lost. I did not understand why my body was behaving this way. Without an understanding, I felt powerless against it."
This, alongside her physical disabilities, meant that life became very mundane; they went out less as a family, travelled less, and had fewer social events. There was a constant low-grade anxious feeling that was always there waiting to grow. Also, Nin was unable to return to work, which was a huge blow for her.
Nin did not want medication or therapy,
"I wasn’t interested at all. Mainly, because I was only interested in getting the life I lost back. I had not accepted my situation and remained hopeful that my situation would reverse itself someway somehow. And those who could not help me get my hearing and balance back, I dismissed as not helpful. At the time, I did not need someone to talk to me about what I lost, I needed someone to bring it back."
Instead of seeking therapy, Nin started researching mental health. Arming herself with knowledge, she realised that she could identify her triggers and learn to manage them by sitting with them and training her body not to perceive them as threats.
Over time, Nin's mental health improved as a result of her self-educating about anxiety and how to manage it, and through acceptance of her physical health situation. Writing a book was part of this process. It gave her something to think about and something to look forward to. Nin's sense of purpose had always come from her career. Writing gave her a clear purpose to charge towards again, which did wonders for her mental health.
"It made me feel I was alive and engaging with life again."
By writing down all the bad things that had happened to her, she did not need to hold onto them anymore. It also helped her to clarify her jumbled thoughts and make sense of the mess she was in.
Nin's wonderful memoir Suddenly Silent and Still is being edited and she will begin the querying process soon. Since her illness, her confidence has been affected, but she approaches the onerous task of seeking a publisher as she does everything - with drive and purpose. She now accepts how crippling mental illness can be having been very sceptical about it, And she has learnt how important it is to redefine your life and your abilities within the context of the experiences you are now living, in order to be able to view your world as safe again.
Andy and I also met in the virtual world of Facebook author groups. I was impressed by the marketing that he was doing for his just-released memoir Who's Wally? and was eager to learn what he was up to. We bought each-other's books, kept in touch, and he invited me to be a guest on his podcast.
Like Nin, Andy had no experience of or knowledge about mental health issues until he realised that he was struggling. He was aware that he would withdraw and that he was in a pattern of losing lots of relationships, ended by him when he would close down and shut off. It was a partner who helped him look into why this kept happening, as she thought it might be related to the fact that he was adopted as a baby. Andy read what she had been reading and he came to the same conclusion - he had issues with attachment. He would enter a spiral of negative thinking which in turn led to depression and withdrawal.
Andy now realises that he has struggled with mental health issues for about the last ten years - it suddenly became really obvious to him. He decided to take matters into his own hands. Like Nin, he did not want to resort to medication. I wonder if the difference between Andy and Nin and myself is that their mental health issues manifested in adulthood, whereas mine started as a child, and by the time I was seventeen, I was already on heaps of medication. Andy did try some talking therapy but feels that it was like putting a sticking plaster over the issue rather than finding out what was underneath. Andy started researching more deeply, and this research prompted him to start writing. At first, his writing was just for himself. After about eight thousand words, he ran out of things to say, but he wanted to carry on writing, because like Nin, it gave him a purpose, a project; that's when he decided to write a book. He'd discovered that there aren't many mental health or adoptee memoirs written by men, and this made him think there was room for his voice. He wrote a series of blogs, breaking down his ideas into manageable chunks. This helped him make sense of all the thoughts racing around in his head.
"The first blog post I put up, I was shitting myself - it was a really big deal. When I shut off, I would close down all my social media - now I couldn't as I was writing the blog."
Andy found the experience of writing to be a bit of a roller-coaster, just as I did. He was writing to find a way out of the dark place he was in. He'd start writing and not really know where it was going, and would have to go back and change the beginning once his writing had taken him somewhere he wasn't anticipating. I can completely relate to this - my writing takes on a life of its own too. Like Andy, I find it completely immersive. Andy says it consumed him, and he loved it. He even found the time to gain a mental health awareness qualification during the process. But then about half way through the book, he became bogged down and the writing took its toll. He persevered, giving himself a deadline for publishing. Andy calls his negative mind Brian. "I give him space to have a name. Brian can be ignored. If I imagine it as part of me, it’s more difficult to shrug it off. I’m not going to ignore everything else, I am just going to ignore Brian."
He decided to self-publish and enjoyed learning how to do this. That was the next project, the next stage. Three months after he started writing, the time came. He's a fast worker! Facebook author groups are full of people getting excited and elated about their publishing day. I dreaded mine as I had massive doses of imposter syndrome. This wasn't the case for Andy though. He knew he'd written something of worth. He had a different problem.
"When I clicked the button to publish, I didn't feel anything. It was really odd. It was just another day. I was going through the motions. I knew I should feel happy, but I just couldn't get it. When it comes to things related to myself, I struggle to raise emotion for it." The writing seems to have been the most important aspect for Andy; the publishing much less so. It marked the end of that immersive emotional experience. And he'd loved that ride.
It's five months since Andy's book was published. As a result of his research and his writing, he has gained a much better understanding of mental health, and also of himself. He may take time to recognise when he's going downhill, but feels he is now much better equipped to deal with it in a mature way. A massive leap for him is that he's started talking about when something is not right - he finds the solutions that are best for him. Like me, he never stops analysing things and like me, finds it exhausting. But he's got some strategies now - he accepts that this is who he is and he's found himself some sensible solutions.
Who's Wally? is a great read: funny, engaging, poignant and brutally honest. I'm delighted that Andy is now writing his second book, immersing himself again.
My heartfelt thanks to Nin and Andy for their stories. We are three very different people who have never met in person, but we share a love of writing and we have all experienced the positive power that writing has on our mental health. We all found that writing a book about our mental health journeys was a journey in itself.
If you have been affected by anything in this article, please talk to someone, or contact one of the many mental health organisations. You are NOT alone.
Nin Mok:
Instagram/suddenlysilentandstill
Andy Wallis:
Facebook/Andy Wallis
Em Buckman:
Instagram/embuckman2023
Facebook/ Em Buckman
Reference:
Baikie KA, Wilhelm K. Emotional and physical health benefits of expressive writing. Advances in Psychiatric Treatment. 2005;11(5):338-346. doi:10.1192/apt.11.5.338.
Published online January 2018 Emotional and physical health benefits of expressive writing | Advances in Psychiatric Treatment | Cambridge Core
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Well written post bringing to light the severity and complex nature of mental health issues. And also introducing a way to ease the symptoms through writing.