Effects of Writing for Hub Pages on Our Daily Emotional Routine
Writing is a form of therapy. Sometimes I wonder how all those who don't write, compose, or paint can manage to escape the madness, melancholy, the panic and fear which is inherent to all humans.
-- Graham Green
Does Writing Go Deeper Than Merely Having a Hobby?
Contrary to some of your possible expectations, the following is not to be an advertisement for my particular niche here at Hub Pages -- having to do with "attempts of inspiring for life".
Rather, I am about to make my own little assessment of possible therapeutic effects that writing within our literary community may produce in the garden variety of our literary creators.
As we know by now, there are all kinds of us, by niche, by form, style, and productivity, and I won't try to categorize us into groups. But, when it comes to categorizing our personal motives, satisfaction, and possibly a mini-therapy that we are deriving from it, let's see what happens when we try to do something of that sort.
First come to mind those of us who in almost a selfless manner merely enjoy the process of creating, not thinking how it will be received by others. And, as it reaches its final form, we may almost wish to keep it for ourselves, as our "baby" -- not perfect, but ours.
I remember something exactly like that from my younger years when I was doing a lot of oil painting. Sometimes spending a whole night in my room filled with cigarette smoke, with beer bottles lined up beside my easel, like in a trance building up a deep sentiment for my creation.
Later on a friend would ask me if I would sell it to them, and, even though I needed money, I just couldn't part from it. I mean -- not easily, but I did it at the end.
Then, there are those who want to be recognized for more than the immediate folks of their life are able -- or willing -- to see in them. Those praises somehow hit deeper than some casual nicety.
And even though we know that our generous commenter maybe said that because they want us to return the compliment on their own creations -- it still means a lot. It's something that we don't receive from those in our life who are familiar with our talent, interest, skill -- but silent about it, somehow as if not attaching it to our image.
And I don't even have to say much about all those who are simply lonely, and to whom such an arrangement of writing within a community of writers means a lot.
As I am thinking of all types of writers at Hub Pages, it's almost impossible to sort them all by their mentality which could point to what intimate relief they may be finding in their writing. But there are some more who come to mind.
He knows nothing and thinks he knows everything. That points clearly to a political career.
-- George Bernard Shaw
Not Everyone Has Poetry in Mind
Quite a big group is made up of those who want to share a know-how, or a practical wisdom that worked in their own life. If they were the ones in a real life therapy group, you wouldn't hear anything personal coming out of them.
No way. They are more likely to quietly push to those around their business cards, with a whisper: "Call me if you need me". Maybe they would even offer one to the therapist on the way out of the room after the session is over.
O.K.,maybe a little exaggerated scenario, but you know who I am talking about -- those practical ones, not to make you admire their poem, and not to uplift your spirit. There must be some emotional payoff they are getting there, and when I find it out, I'll let you know.
Now, as much as I want to keep all this on a bright side -- just can't miss those normative types, mainly dealing with politics. Those that would topple their leader at a blink of an eye if they could, or, in another case, kiss his ass on the public television out of a sheer endearment.
They immensely love sharing their strong views of social order, literally living the life of their nation, and finding one hell (pun not intended) of a therapy in preaching to everyone how the country should be run.
They may, or may not coincide with the last group to be mentioned. When they don't, they are just some civil, intellectual, respectful, and objective narrators.
And when they do belong to this last group, they share some personality traits with those that are known as trolls. Fortunately, they are not too many. Such creators, due to some inner conflicts have this need to ease inner pressure by exteriorizing those inner conflicts, by bullying someone -- anyone.
So they write mostly for that purpose of starting a verbal altercation, to call someone a name, to disagree -- like some cowards feeling safe because protected by distance and anonymity. Insecure, some don't even come under real name, or by no name at all. (However, this is not to say that everybody coming under an artist's name falls in that category).
I do have friends. Maybe they live hundreds of miles away from me, and maybe I can only talk to them through a screen, but they're still my friends.
-- Francesca Zappia
Maybe it's time for me to stop beating around the bush and admit what I personally find therapeutic about writing.
For one thing, I am one of those mentioned earlier, who like seeing his thoughts take a form of an article, with paragraphs, subtitles, pictures, and quotes. I like the process of it, just like I enjoyed that mentioned oil painting.
And after I pass it to the public, I am curious, but far from being concerned, about how it may be received. Praises always feel good, but I am a little funny that way. Namely, while it is in process of my creating it -- it means something to me, and after I press that "publish" button, it a kinda doesn't matter how others want to experience it, it's up to them, it's their taste, their freedom, nothing to do with me anymore.
I don't know if you get it, but I can't explain it any better. Maybe if I say that what I do with that article is my own unique experience, and what they do with it is their unique experience -- while all along I am fully aware that words seldom sound the same between lips and in ears.
So, it's my great pleasure to write, and if a praise comes, it's good, but not something that I was hoping for while creating it.
My biggest of all therapeutic moments are those of sensing friendly vibes from someone whom I will never see in my life, at times so deep that I can't match it with expressions of closeness coming from my real life friends.
With my cyber-friends I could have an elegant, selective exchange of our personality displays, meaning that we don't bother each other with petty imperfections of our nature, like friends in personal contacts oftentimes do.
Like, I don't have to burden them with some aspects of my personality which are too prosaic as to contribute anything to the beauty of our exchange.
For example, take this little unsightly detail about me -- that my wife often has to use a begging voice while reminding me -- again, and again - to take the car for a wash. You see, I forget these things. I just wait for the "metro wash" -- meaning rain to do it for me.
Living in Ontario, Canada, I didn't have to learn to dance in front of my fireplace and chant the Native Americans' "call for a rainfall" ritual -- this is not Southern California, and rain more than "happens" here.
Now, you see, I find that therapeutic, having a smooth exchange with my cyber-friends, leaving out any depressing details having anything to do with car washes.
Make as many friends as you can, but don't build your life on them alone. It's an unstable foundation.
-- Sean Covey
Now, talking in terms of yin-and-yang principle, we also have to mention those effects of writing for Hub Pages which are far from being therapeutic. Actually, there are those who are probably laughing at the mention of therapy and Hub Pages in a same sentence.
Few good ones apparently left, and few keep leaving. To them it might have been a therapeutic moment when they found strength to leave, maybe even break an addiction, if it had come to that.
Somehow it reminds me of a silly joke. Silly or not, I'll share it -- it's not the first, nor the last time that I am sharing something silly.
A man is walking in a park, when he sees his friend approaching and limping.
"What's wrong? - he asks concerned.
"Why are you limping?"
Oh. it's O.K. You see, I put these tight shoes on, because I just love that feeling when I take them off."
Silly, like I told you, but you wouldn't believe how common it is, in one form or another. Torturous jobs, marriages, friendships...may go on and on for years, as if we are just prolonging it for sake of an additional pleasure, once when we'll finally terminate it.
So, every useful experience, especially one that's emotionally charged, can be seen as a school, or as a therapy. Isn't that funny how the same thing can be a therapy as we keep it, to some of us, but to others of us -- a therapy as we leave it.
All in all, "therapy" will always be something very individual. Isn't it so with everything else in life?
© 2020 Vladimir Karas