Healing Words
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” —Maya Angelou
photo by Abdullah Alam
There were many untold stories in my family. Most of my story remained untold until I discovered the comfort of writing, all of it in a journal until I began to get published in my late twenties. There were descriptions of things I had kept secret, a rape, excessive drinking, my suffering as a child of an adored father who had black, drunken rages, my own alcoholism, the heartbreak of falling in love and then out, my own shame until I stopped drinking and believed someone who told me my writing had power.
When my eldest sister was killed by a drunk driver, after spinning out of control and then, finally returning to the truth that my life had value, I started writing one of those stories, a novel but thinly veiled truth, an unattainable father, a murdered sister, and a youngest child on the edge of suicide. I think that writing was the scream of grief and rage that stayed inside until therapy, sobriety and writing allowed it to escape. Reading books helped me so much as a lonely child. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, The Member of the Wedding, Jane Eyre, girls who struggled to belong, to find meaning in life and who refused to stop hoping.
As a writing coach, a teacher, and a survivor I see writing as a tool that can help release buried pain, trace patterns of behavior and, as a bonus, create value in a world of not very good writers. Working with teenagers on their essays, research papers, college personal statement, stories, and poetry, plays and writing prompts has increased my belief that writing is an important tool in recovery, in articulating a better future and moving away from self-hatred that can be fatal.
Writing taught me how to reflect, how to bear witness and how to create a happier present. When I wrote poetry to my unborn child those words helped alleviate anxiety about the birth and my own fears of being a mother. They helped celebrate the present and look towards the future with wonder instead of trepidation.
Writing will not cure depression, anxiety, or fear. But the naming of things certainly helps diminish their power and possibly offer insight into things that might be possible, dreams and goals that are insubstantial until articulated. I work with adolescents who are finding life difficult, overwhelming, and scary, helping them to create new narratives while not ignoring their own experiences. And, in doing so, strengthen their ability to write so their future is improved.
—Molly Moynahan, author and writing coach