The Tremendous Benefits of Writing It Out

Over the course of last few hours, I’ve just been writing nonstop. If you take a look at my latest posts, you’ll likely gather really quickly that I haven’t been feeling the greatest lately. I’ve decided to make this third story a little more candid than the poem I posted earlier this evening, which was… descriptive, yet vague.

You see, over the past several years, I have suffered from major depression and an increasingly serious dependency on alcohol. Both of these things seem to come and go from time to time, but they never fail to accompany one another. Things were going pretty well for me: I received a promotion at work, I was able to quit my other job that was a toxic environment… yada, yada… Then this past Friday happened.

It is a very rare occasion that I get a Friday off, and I had errands to run. “Errands” in my warped brain translates to “I’m gonna go do that thing but I might as well stop and have a drink or two first”. Well I’m sure you can gather what happened: I ended up going on a raging bender, getting politely walked down the stairs of my favorite bar, and waking up Saturday morning hating myself and every fuzzy memory from the night before.

Nonetheless, I collected myself as best I could and made my way to work, where I was completely useless the entire shift. I was not only feeling overwhelmingly sad, but also physically sick. I was sweating and felt weak and light-headed. The weather outside didn’t help much, as it was both humid and pouring copious amounts of rain.

Saturday evening, I made it home and went straight to bed, which is where I’ve spent nearly the entirety of my Sunday. I tried to remedy away my depression using several techniques, none of which were effective long-term…

Suddenly, just when I couldn’t take it any longer, I knew exactly what I had to do. I logged into Vocal, renewed my subscription to Vocal+, and started venting the best way I know: In poetry form.

The first poem was published so quickly that I was inspired to write another, and that one was immediately published as well. Suddenly I was overcome with a sense of satisfaction. An enormous weight had been lifted, enabling me to leave my sad little bed and exit my dark little room.

Thus brings me to this very moment: I’m sitting here, wrapping up THIS story, and it’s probably the most vulnerable I’ve ever presented myself on this particular platform. I do feel at least ten times better after all of the writing. I’m aware that it’s not a permanent solution and I’m definitely considering getting more help for my mental health, but I think it’s important to remember this moment and how much writing it out has made a difference.

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