Words That Heart
Words That Heart
My name is Meriel, counsellor, writer and now writing for wellbeing workshop leader. June saw the end of ‘Words That Heart’’s initial projects: webinars and workshops for childless not by choice people to explore their stories and journeys through writing. We have run three webinars and two workshops, and been interviewed for Lapidus, the Words for Wellbeing organisation which champions the power of words to enhance and transform lives. Next year, we will run another workshop and are offering monthly writing prompts
Sharing my words
But this isn’t an advertisement for us. As part of the workshops, we did all the writing exercises we were inviting participants to do, ourselves, and I would like to share my words with you.
I started by saying,
Like you all, I am childless not by choice. I tried to have children for seven years and although not being able to just about broke my heart,writing has helped me to mend it. It helps me to do so many things - get perspective, enter other worlds, make sense of the seemingly incomprehensible and reach out to others, bringing an end to loneliness when someone says, ‘you too? I thought I was the only one’. It has also been something enjoyable and escapist when everything else seemed dark and grim and I felt trapped in my own life. I write something every day and just that practice in itself has been a healing experience.
Next, I wrote about the people and things that were in the lifeboat I had relied upon to save my life, and still called upon when needed:
I have struggled to be alone in this journey and need my allies by my side. In my lifeboat are my childless friends who I have done courses with over the years, particularly in 2013 and 2017, they’ve got the map for when I get lost . Some of my friends with children are here too, those who have made an effort to understand me along the way and listened when I felt I had nowhere to turn. Many writers of all kinds sit behind me giving me strength. Ahead of me in the bow of the boat are all the childless people who have led the way, who show me that my life has meaning as it is, and needs nothing else. A sense of gratitude fills the boat and I feel I know where I am going now.
Next, I imagined a future for myself, this activity was based on a blog I wrote in October 2019 and before that, on an experience I had in Scotland in 2018:
My life stretches out in front of me and now it doesn't feel barren or bleak, but rich and full of colour. I can see every square simultaneously, and in great detail. In one, I see a woman tending a garden, she looks up to wave and smile at me. In another, there is a tower with a room at the top full of maps and books and paper of many colours and a comfortable chair and desk. A boat is tied up to a jetty nearby. I can go anywhere I like and so many things are possible. I have not left my sadness behind, in the garden I can see plants that hold memories of people and things gone forever, but it is manageable now and I can move forward with it. I get to my feet. It is time to begin the journey down the mountain, The summit was hard to reach, but the way down will be easier. My first small step is to climb the tower and gaze at the maps, choosing where I might go first when I can, my second to sit at the desk and put my pen to the paper, seeing what words come to me and later there will be seeds to plant.
What writing does for me
It’s powerful to read what I have written, it’s even more powerful to know that it is all true. I do have a life now when part of me feared I never would, it’s a good one and it’s what I’ve made it. Writing about it helps me to think about it, recognise it and celebrate it and then, ultimately, to keep living it and loving it.