Have you ever found yourself overwhelmed with all this personal growth talk about the things you can do to heal as an adult child of an alcoholic? Been there. But what if I told you that one of the most powerful tools at your disposal requires nothing more than a pen and paper? Or, if you prefer, a voice memo app?
Yes, I’m talking about writing. And no, it’s not just for the next Shakespeare or the future Hemingway. Writing, my friend, is for anyone who’s ever had a feeling. So, unless you’re a robot (hi, robot), writing can be a therapeutic journey for your personal growth and healing.
How writing can be the MVP of your healing
Writing is less intimidating and more available than therapy.
Let’s face it, remembering painful stuff that happened in the past can be difficult. While I’m not suggesting you replace professional help with a notebook, writing does provide a complimentary outlet for when your therapist is on vacation in the Bahamas and you’re knee-deep in family drama OR you’re just not ready for therapy.
Writing doesn’t talk back.
Ever try confiding to a friend who turns it into the Misery Olympics? With writing, there’s no competition. The paper won’t interrupt you to tell you about its cousin’s neighbor’s sister-in-law’s last shenanigans.
Writing is private.
Sometimes we censor ourselves in front of other people to protect our egos. Writing can be a private confessional where the truth pours out. It’s just you and the page, no judgments.
Writing can be your emotional dumpster.
Imagine taking all the emotional junk cluttering your mind and tossing it onto a page. It’s like a dumpster for the soul, only without the lingering smell of week-old chicken.
How to get started writing for healing
1. The Dear Diary Approach
Start a journal. It’s classic, it’s simple and it’s effective. Write like nobody’s watching—because, unless you have an incredibly nosy cat (shout out to you, Larry), nobody is.
2. The Word Vomit Method
Sit down and just write. Don’t worry about grammar, spelling or making sense. You’re not trying to win a Pulitzer; you’re trying to clear your head. The coherent thoughts can come later, after the mental purge. Just write what comes to mind. Let it all out.
3. The Letter That Never Gets Sent
Write a letter to your alcoholic parent, to yourself, to God or a Higher Power or even to the Universe. Pour everything into it. Then, tuck it away or, if you’re feeling dramatic, put it in the shredder.
4. The Blogging Odyssey
Start a blog. Share your journey. You’ll be surprised how many people resonate with your story and find comfort in knowing they’re not alone.
Back in the ancient days of 2009, when we all were younger, the internet was a bit less crowded, and finding a niche community felt like searching for a needle in a digital haystack. If you were an adult child of an alcoholic, scouring the web for shared experiences was like trying to find a sober moment at an open bar—pretty rare.
That’s when I decided to stop being an audience member in the theater of Google searches and take center stage by starting my own blog at JodyLamb.com. The spotlight was a little daunting, not gonna lie. There I was, typing away my journey, half-expecting to hear the digital chirping of crickets rather than human connection. But then something amazing happened.
People responded! Not just automated bots selling me cheap sunglasses or promises of a Nigerian prince’s inheritance, but real, live humans from across the globe. Just like that, my solo act became a chorus of voices, a community of people who grew up with alcoholic parents, a global tapestry of healing woven together with every shared story and supportive comment. I am so grateful to everyone I’ve connected with from around the world.
What to do if writing feels like a chore
Ah, I hear you. On days when picking up a pen feels like lifting a 100-pound weight, there’s another under-the-radar hero: voice memos. Chat it out. Record what you’re feeling, rant about the terrible things that happened in the past or verbalize those deep philosophical thoughts you have in the shower. It’s cathartic. It really, really is.
So, my fellow adult children of alcoholics, grab your writing tool of choice and let the healing begin. It’s time to make some sense of the chaos, one word—or spoken word—at a time.
Remember, whether it’s on paper or a recording, your story matters. Your healing matters.
Cheers to your journey—the pens (and mics) are raised in your honor. You deserve the life you want.
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