Handwriting practice & mental training

My very first encounter with actively writing letters was in 1979 - first grade elementary school: I was overjoyed...learning to read, write, do math...I wanted to learn everything! I was totally motivated. In preparation for whole letters, we started out with wax crayons and practiced swinging individual sheets. Up to that point, I was still doing well. But when it came to complete letters, it was as if I was writing against resistance. I guided the pen with my hand, but something felt wrong. The capital letter I, for example: starting at the top left, then straight to the right, straight down and with a curve back to the left. The direction felt wrong. I should end on the left, but I wanted to go right. The letters, as they were given to me in cursive, literally went against the grain. It wasn't until many years later that I realized why.

Every day, the class teacher called three children to the front. They received a sticker and the long-awaited official permission to finally write with a fountain pen. Fountain pen! Fountain pen - the sign that you could already write! Fountain pen - I could hardly wait! There were 19 children in the class. Day 1 - The teacher called three children to the front. I wasn't there. How - I wasn't there! I was surprised. I was so motivated. "All right", I thought, "Tomorrow!". Day 2, day 3, day 4, day 5 - I wasn't there. Every day that I wasn't there, I felt my stomach getting emptier. It was as if someone had switched off my tailwind and was sucking the air out of me at the same time. Day 6 - There were four children left. The teacher called only three children to the front again. I wasn't there. I was left, the last one. I felt empty, lonely, sad. Day 7 - I stepped forward alone. The teacher handed me the sticker and said: "Well, it's still going quite slowly, but well, you're the last one now." I looked at her and turned to the class. All eyes were on me. The teacher's words, her face, the children's faces, the silence - I perceived everything as if in slow motion. I stood there as if at a crossroads: crumbling & being sad or shaking it off & feeling whole. And before I could grasp any thoughts, a force suddenly emerged in me that I had never felt before. Like a wave, it rose up inside me from the bottom to the top. The ground beneath my feet became firm again. My soft knees were stable again. My lower back was warm, my shoulders straight. And there was only one sentence in my head: "I'll show you!" I didn't know what the sentence meant. I was to find out many years later. I stood there and didn't say a word. My motivation was back: I was looking forward to my fountain pen! I took the sticker and started my way back to my seat. I suddenly stopped in the corridor in front of it and did a cartwheel. I had to get the energy out. The children looked, the teacher looked - all wide-eyed. No one said a word. I sat down. The teacher started to talk about the hiking day tomorrow and I quietly decided for myself: "From now on, I'm going to write the letters exactly as given, fluently, even if they go against the grain. Because I'm good at school!"

And with this decision I went through my entire school career, managed an excellent Abitur, began to study human medicine, switched to law (that's another story.). First state exam, LLM in New Zealand, second state exam...But my writing was never mine. I tried cursive, block letters - they felt wrong. I didn't like my handwriting. I especially hated the S s. I had no idea what this charged relationship between me and the letters was all about.

The wake-up call and starting signal for handwriting practice came in 2011, in the form of writer's block. I was living in Myanmar at the time, had a great job as a Partnership Specialist at UNOPS, but in my private life I was at the end of my rope. And suddenly I could no longer write with my hand. The letters no longer flowed through my hand from the pen onto the paper. Nothing worked anymore. In my distress, I came across the work of an American woman who had done pioneering work in the field of graphotherapy. I tried certain strokes. And the letters came back and slowly began to reappear. However, many questions remained unanswered.

I began to study handwriting intensively, researched and immersed myself in the world of letters. From then on, handwriting practice has been my daily companion until today. With my psychological knowledge and my experience as an alternative practitioner for psychotherapy, I developed my own practice routine and swings over the years and developed my own font. I also began to offer handwriting practice to my clients as a tool for mental training, personal development and self-regulation.

Handwriting practice is excellent for aligning ourselves in the best possible way in our daily interactions, for radiating power and for being loving in interpersonal relationships. Handwriting practice is a tool that helps us to develop ourselves: out of old, unhealthy patterns, entanglements and defense mechanisms that block us and prevent us from developing freely and fully.

Unfolding, developing - isn't that exactly what we humans have to do sooner or later in the course of our lives? Yes! We come into the world, experience circumstances, relationships, become entangled, react, protect ourselves as best we can and wrap further layers around ourselves. The inner pressure increases and physical symptoms often become noticeable. After all, we are up to our ears in it. Access to who we really are is blocked. We need to reconnect with who we really are: Love, loving and lovable! 

And this is exactly why handwriting practice is such a wonderful tool:

Handwriting practice helps us to take ourselves calmly, slowly and steadily into our own hands.

Handwriting practice gives us space and concrete action to develop.

Handwriting practice creates love.

Your handwriting, your life - LoveHandwriting. Let's get started!