Holding onto Good Memories in Depression - Is it An Emotion or A Disease?
The Midweek Muse... A little inspiration to get you over the hump
Are you guys ready for another Midweek Musing?
The theme for this week: "Memories"
I just wrote a post about going into my attic and rummaging through the boxes and bags and the emotional catharsis that this brought to me. I think it can be good to periodically hold your memories in hand...all the tangible objects you collect and see where they take you. I have a little creative exercise for you if you care to partake in it.
Find an object from your past. It can be anything. It is almost better to find something which will not provoke too much emotion because you might not be ready to deal with it. Only do what you feel emotionally comfortable doing. Look at your memory object and set a timer for 5-15 minutes depending upon how long you wish to write. Just write whatever comes to mind. This is not an exercise to be checking spelling or grammar. Just write. Don't stop to second judge your thoughts...just let them pour onto the paper. This is called automatic writing and it can be a very powerful and healing tool.
I will go first to show you an example of how this works. For my memory object I have chosen my mother's doll from when she was a child.
Here is my automatic writing for this doll:
When I look at my mother's doll I immediately think of my grandmother's basement where I first found her when I was a little girl. I remember the wooden stairs leading down and I was scared of them and the darkness. Yet the allure was great. I knew there were treasures down there like my mother's doll. The face, still cherubic, but the hair, still in braids was sparce. My mother told me that rats had eaten the hair. That frightful image invaded my young mind and the visual still lingers with me today.
Somehow I still have this doll. The matted braids have misplaced probably in the process of many moves. But there she sits, one of her legs unattached, sitting way up high on my bookcase. Beside her sits my Raggedy Andy doll from my childhood. Two refugees from less than perfect worlds. What happened to Raggedy Anne I do not know. Perhaps she is clutching my mother's doll's braids.
What becomes of memories when we can no longer see them or feel them? My grandmother's house is long gone, alone with her mysterious basement. My memories now have holes and are gauzy at best. If I were to hold the dolls perhaps those memories would sharpen and become clear.
Do dolls cry for their mothers? We can't tell. Their gaze is fixed and their mouths are permanently silent.
Please feel free to share your memories or automatic writings here or with a sharepost. I believe that creative expression is a wonderful healing tool to combat depression. Don't worry about being a "good" writer. Just write. Let the words come. The words will lead you to paths you have either forgotten or don't even know about. Discover the mystery of you through writing.