Athlone, Dublin & Galway

Creative Writing and Journaling is part of Counselling, Psychotherapy & Healing


I found an old journal this morning and I opened the page and read the following “I don’t ever remember being so sick as I have been all over Christmas. My body is speaking as it does when I don’t listen to myself. I am overworked, overburdened, overweight, and overwhelmed with responsibility”.

A few weeks later I have written in my Journal again “I’m off to hospital today and so how do I feel? It is all a bit unreal. I finished my classes today, finished emails just now, and I am letting go of all my work. I step out of my roles, while I go to the hospital for an operation and then give myself some recovery time. I have a sense that my time in this role and my work is changing.”

In the hospital the next day, I wrote in my Journal again “I am a bit numb, with shock and some fear. I feel OK and at the same time terrified, trying to stay calm in this moment. I embrace this new opportunity to focus on me, on my health, on my relationship with myself and others. I sense there are challenges in the next few weeks. I hope to meet them with patience, kindness and compassionate presence and consciousness. There is no battle! A part of me has turned on me, I can love it all back to health, these cells have taken over and need now to let go and allow healing to occur. I have neglected myself and now I am back in charge, the conductor of my orchestra, my body mind and spirit. All will be well”.

Later that night before my operation, I wrote “Tomorrow begins another story, another chapter of my life, a new story and adventure. I ask all the energies of love and healing to surround me, to infuse me with light and bring me back to health and peace”.

I have used a journal for almost twenty-five years. In fact, I have written all my life. As a child I scribbled all the time, imagining and planning projects, keeping a diary as a teenager helped me figure out who and what it was and what I needed at times. Having pen pals in Africa and other places, and writing letters was a way of sharing myself with others and allowing their lives to impact me and my development. Writing has brought me great joy and solace and other less desirable feelings also, and I have always enjoyed the experience of writing and I have always appreciated the power, influence, and healing properties of the written word.

During the time of this short illness, and recovery I wrote the following poems or creative writing pieces and they helped me through a journey, a process. I have since recovered and each day I am challenged to take better care of myself. I know they are not in any specific format and probably do not meet the criteria for what is recognised as poetry. I do not care. They give me a license to express myself from the inside out. I share them in the hope that you might give yourself permission to express yourself and tell your stories in ways that support your healing and wellbeing.


I feel the tremble of trembling
as my body reverberates in fear
In preparation for an operation
that has recently been agreed.

Now braving the wilderness
with strength and vulnerability
I come into the silence and
sit with the priestess of my heart.

Old Bones
Old bones cry loudest without sound
Frightened deep within
Afraid of what tomorrow will bring
Proud of staying in the moment
No need to worry yet.

Life has brought me here today
I trust that all is well, whatever.
Nothing to do, nowhere to go,
I Breathe
I hope, I rest.

As I lay under the big lights
her kind words her soft voice
saying we will take care of you
was nearly my undoing.
As I received the anaesthetic a tear ran down my cheek.
I have no attachment to anyone or anything in this moment
I only have the feeling of
this is what freedom feels like,
I drifted.
I was gone.

A realisation,
I am here for something!
Is this serious?
When were you diagnosed, she asked?

Their delight to see me,
their care and warmth
These Angels and givers of care
doing their best to give me health.

Family and friends support me
Visits and surprises bring me comfort and joy
My husband’s genuine happiness of having me home
warms my heart and soothes my soul.

Loss and Gain
My body cries for its lost part tonight,
It weeps through the twinges as the nerves tingle readjust and regenerate.

My body cries for its lost part tonight,
in shock, she moves out, withdraws as she moans her soft laments, too raw to touch.

My body cries for its lost part tonight,
It grieves and says goodbye.
A healing glow wraps what is left in a tenderness that is almost too much to bear.
Too shocked, too shaken, too sudden, too soon, in one month from then to now

I sit and wait, I do not want to wonder, I said what will be, will be.
Now, I want to know, and I am not so brave, I am little me.
Who, what do I pray to, as night becomes day
The Earth, the Sky, the Moon, how it was, as it is, and what it may be.