Words are a way through

I never know how to respond when people ask if I find writing therapeutic. I usually say no. When I think of things that people tend to find therapeutic, I imagine pleasant activities to do in one’s spare time. I remember taking a workshop with a writer who warned us at the beginning of class, ‘If you’re looking for a hobby, take up knitting.’

Writing is work. I don’t find it relaxing. I rarely find it cathartic. I nearly always find it stressful. When I looked up therapeutic in the dictionary, I was surprised to learn that there was no mention of relaxation. It turns out that the definition of therapeutic is, ‘of, for, or contributing to the cure of disease.’ In this sense of the word, writing is the most therapeutic thing in my life. It’s not easy, but it is my anchor to the world. I don’t know where I would be without it.

I’m going to tell a story I’ve told so many times that I’m not sure what part