The Best Therapy I Ever Gave Myself: What Happened When I Stopped Reading and Started Writing
By Severen “Sevy” Henderson
People always ask me where Bleed came from. Like most things in my life, it didn’t start as a plan. It started as a conversation between my best friend Troy and me. It was the same conversation we’d been having for years.
We were supposed to write a screenplay.
Life did what it does, and started to life. We grew, our families grew, and our interests shifted.
But the idea never stopped tapping us on the shoulder.
Back in the early 2000s, we heard The Notorious B.I.G.’s N!&&@$ Bleed, and it grabbed us. That song isn’t just a song; it plays like a whole movie packed into three verses. A masterclass in storytelling. We said we wanted to build something off that one day. Something gritty and cinematic. Something real.
Then years later, Troy sent me a clip of some guys in a barbershop breaking down that same song. They were calling it a masterpiece, dissecting the story beat by beat. Troy messaged me: “Bro… we got to get on this before somebody else does.”
And I felt it immediately.
Territorial.
Violated, even.
I know people come up with ideas all the time. Hell, the song is Biggie’s idea. But the story that came from it? That was mine. That was ours. And I’d be damned if I let someone beat me to it.
By then, I’d already written Hey New Guy! and Zoë Is Going To Be A Fire Engine!, so I understood the grind it took to finish a book. I knew the process—the drafts, the editing, the lonely days when nobody knows what you’re working on. And I’d read enough fiction, watched enough movies, lived enough life to know I could build a world from scratch.
So I told Troy, “What’s stopping me?”
He said, “Do it.”
And I did.
I wrote the whole thing myself. I gave Troy a writing credit because the idea’s soul originated with us. The story lived between us for years before it lived on paper.
But here’s the part I didn’t expect:
Writing Bleed taught me more about myself than any self-help book I’ve ever read.
The Mirror I Didn’t Know I Needed
Frank “Big” Wright is fiction… but parts of him are absolutely me.
His loyalty. His conflict. He needs to protect his family even when it costs him. His fear of letting people down. His willingness to do whatever it takes to stay afloat.
Same with Arizona Ron.
His attention to detail.
His rage.
His distrust.
You don’t write characters like that unless you’ve lived some of it.
And here’s where it got real:
There’s a scene in Bleed where Frank’s mother, Mama J, tells him he looks terrible. Whatever he’s doing with his life isn’t working. He needs to stop running himself into the ground.
I had that exact conversation with my own mother.
But I didn’t hear her then.
I heard it when I wrote it. I put those words in Mama J’s mouth and had to sit with what Frank—what I—was ignoring.
Writing that scene forced me to see what I couldn’t see in real life. I was running on near empty. Getting up daily when everything in me wanted to shut down. Doing what I had to do to stay afloat, just like Frank.
That’s when I realized: I wasn’t just writing a character. I was building a mirror. One I didn’t ask for, but clearly needed.
The Therapy Was in the Doing
The breakthrough wasn’t a dramatic moment.
It wasn’t an emotional meltdown.
It wasn’t some big discovery.
It was the simple fact that I finished.
The process involved many elements. The long nights, the fun scenes, the world-building, and the twists all filled me up. They did so more than any morning routine or affirmation ever has. I realized I don’t always need another lesson. Sometimes I need a creative outlet. Sometimes I need to build something. Sometimes I need to stop “self-helping” and actually self-do.
And honestly? There was no cost.
The time I spent writing wasn’t a loss. It was nourishment.
It felt good.
It felt necessary.
It made me want to create again immediately.
Why This Matters
I’m not writing this to tell anyone that Bleed is better than a self-help book.
I’m writing this because creating Bleed was better for me than reading another self-help book.
Sometimes the most healing thing you can do is stop reading and start doing.
Stop consuming and start creating.
Stop searching for advice and start acting on your own intuition.
You don’t always need more guidance. Sometimes you just need to listen to the thing inside you that’s been tapping you on the shoulder for years.
That thing matters.
That thing is calling you for a reason.
The version of you after doing it is better than any self-help book could ever describe. It will surpass expectations.
What’s Next
Right now, I’m sitting with momentum.
Part of me wants to let Bleed breathe. Let it find its readers. Let it stand on its own.
But another part of me knows I need to use this energy. I need to keep creating. I want to write the sequel and improve my craft.
So that’s what I’m doing.
The story always tells me what’s next.
And right now, it’s telling me to keep building.
Want More Championized Insights?
You’re building something that matters. Keep that momentum going with more stories, strategies, and lessons created to fuel your discipline, creativity, and purpose. Dive into more posts below.
- • The Best Therapy I Ever Gave Myself: What Happened When I Stopped Reading and Started Writing
- • The Moment You Decide You’re Worth Showing Up For
- • The Art of Staying Consistent When Motivation Dies
- • Champion Your Mind: Mental Health for Creatives Who Never Stop Creating
- • The 5-Minute Test That Reveals Why You’re Stuck (and the Free Tools That Fix It)
- • When Pain Goes Public: The Line Between Empathy and Accountability
- • Discipline Without Burnout: Boost Productivity Sustainably
