The Catharsis of Writing—The Journey Begins

“Catharsis” coined by Aristotle in the rise of the Greek Tragedy

I love that word cathartic. Catharsis—the emotional release after having gone through some crisis or tension (my definition). Aristotle coined the word catharsis (see I still love that word! Catharsis, cathartic, catharsis…has it broken down into its sounds and lost its meaning yet?) during the rise of the ancient tragic Greek plays. During those plays, a somewhat perfect hero with only one flaw—the tragic flaw—leads himself and everyone else into—you guessed it, tragedy! Which means death for everyone.  Sounds depressing. And it is. And that’s the point. He discovered that afterwards people felt better, more enlivened. Relieving an emotional burden through false pretense still releases pent up emotion. And there you have catharsis.

My book, “Motherhood: The Crucible of Love,” was a cathartic endeavor for me and I hope it is to all who read it, mom, dad, child-care worker, whomever. In the particular collection of poetry, the emotive energy brings the narrator through her angst about not recognizing herself anymore—seeing only “mom” in the mirror pushes her through into a state of acceptance. I’ll do another blog post about the book, but it is is about my personal catharsis and I strive diligently to bring the reader along with me. It was the writing of the thing that released my energy and showed me the beauty of my pain and hope despite frustration. It’s the writing or creating, art, music, building things—the works of your hands—that puts the emotions into something other than yourself, and when that emotive energy no longer binds up your brain, then suddenly there is clarification.

Below is a journal entry, actually the first journal entry in a long time—when I started writing again way back in 2018. It was from this start that my first, and yet unpublished collection of poetry began to develop as I struggled through post-partum depression and questions about my own life-choices, failures and faith, bringing me through some darkness and to the Healer-of-broken hearts. This one journaling is a perfect example of starting at one emotional point and arriving at some clarity. Who among us doesn’t have some internal struggle and pain? Try writing about it.

Have you tried writing a journal? How did it work out for you? Have you tried writing down the burdens of your heart? Even bullets. Did it make you feel any better? Do you have another creative outlet that helps bring you through catharsis? Leave a comment and let us know!

28 January, 2018 (First journal entry in six years)

Someone recently asked me if I’d been writing, I think my brother or my mom, and I said, “Sort of why?” and they said, “You’re always happier when you are writing.”

Hummmm—no—because it’s my angst usually that causes me to write but maybe I’m more centered when I write—more apt to be honest with myself and life…maybe more aware of what I’m really thinking and feeling—more in tune with myself.

I feel like it’s so long since I’ve been myself. Maybe the core of “myself” has changed. I can no longer identify the creative, strong enigmatic self of my past. I am a fat old dumpy mom now, somewhat bitter and angry—but over who knows what? I blame everything on my husband—my scapegoat. And that’s not fair.

But what of my circumstances now? Would I undo all of the last four years or the two beautiful lives that are my flesh and blood? Of course not!

I think children are the safeguard against regret—because once you have them you can’t wish away the circumstances that brought them to you—so you can’t look back or be sorry. You must move forward.

But have I moved forward? Have I wholeheartedly given myself to this life? Honestly, no, I haven’t.

…But after some thought I wonder when I have ever totally given myself to anything without some reservation.

So, am I even capable of it?

Why do I hold back?

Can I not trust?

I need to empty myself—to make myself a desert—for thoughts, for enlightenment—such that I call it.

I have been consuming and now I am fat—both in body, spirit and mind. The concerning thing is that although it bothers me, it seems not to truly grieve me—for so far nothing has changed. It demonstrates a laziness inherent to my personality—something very grieving to me but yet again—not enough to change my behavior…or maybe my consuming has made me numb to the greater things of life and if I can allow my paralysis to fade, I might be able to be free to be empty again.

The thing about emptiness is that it is empty, lonely, full of quiet and waiting—and maybe part of the reason why I am much “happier” when I am writing is because I am not consuming but creating. Which is work in the image of God, isn’t it? It is part of God’s character to create and if we’re made in His likeness then when we create, we are operating according to our true nature.

Our true nature is to create.

Maybe that is the devil’s scheme—to create brain dead consumers…

There is a place for consuming—but maybe consuming is different than appreciating—or else who would appreciate the thing created—but then again maybe that’s a consuming concept. Maybe the point isn’t the audience’s reception of the creation but the very act of creation itself.

But to be honest, God made a beautiful world for us to enjoy so I don’t think we can completely remove the appreciation of the thing away from the equation. So, what is the difference then? What makes a consumer slothful in mind, body and spirit? Maybe it is the extent of indulgence.

I enjoy the delving into ideas. It has been so long since I’ve done this, with myself or with someone else. I feel I resent having lost this.

A friend once told me that tension between two points of view is what creates the space for music. Can I create that tension in my new life without puling too hard and toppling it over? Can I create that with my husband so what we can create music instead of discord? Right now, we sound like a screeching violin—terrible but is there hope of music? Something beautiful and moving? Is there? I hope there is.

Beautiful and moving.

Let our hearts be turned to you,

Every single day,

To think like you and

Act like you

In every single way.