Self-Care for Writing About Trauma and Other Difficult Experiences
Tips from a trauma practitioner and writer on how to turn your writing practice into a healing practice.
Your past can feel like a big tangle of cords and wires, each memory wound around another. In slowing down to write about them you can unwind them, and loosen tight couplings that don’t actually belong together. It is from that place of thoughtful introspection and new understanding that you can grow, shift, and heal in a manner that synthesizes emotional memory with critical thought. Writing about anything difficult from our past, as either a personal practice or for an audience can be an opportunity to process and heal — if done in a way that feels safe and honors your boundaries. By slowing down, staying present in your body, and putting language to thoughts, memories, and emotions that might otherwise be swirling around in your head, you can spend time examining and making meaning of the felt experience of moments, both big and small, that shaped you.
But like all healing work, writing about trauma thoughtfully isn’t easy and it needs to be done with intention.
In my book, Lifting Heavy Things: Healing Trauma One Rep at a Time I lead readers step-by-step through the process of creating an intentional, healing, embodied, and trauma-informed movement practice, just like I would with a private client. My approach comprises three parts — Conditions, Activation, and Recovery — that, when done in order, can be used to structure a trauma-sensitive movement and writing practice which will yield work that is healing to both read and write.
I recently published a story about writing Lifting Heavy Things with a trauma-informed approach. In “On (Not) Writing About Your Trauma,” I define trauma-informed writing as both a process and a product that tends to the nervous system of both writer and reader so that all parties are more likely to stay present for the experience of the written work. It is self-aware of both how the writer approaches their writing practice and in understanding how their words may impact their readers.
Conditions
Before you do any heavy lifting in the gym, you have to prepare. For me that means I review my program and collect my gear for the day. The same could be said before you write — you need to put a few conditions in place for the work to be fruitful. You will want to know why you are writing, because holding an intention can help you stay grounded, whether you’re writing for an assignment or free writing. Holding this intention can help you recognize if your writing begins to spiral out or you become overwhelmed. It also helps to gather what you need to make your writing practice supportive and sustainable. Literary coach and creator of the Narrative Healing program, Lisa Weinert, asks writers to consider things like time of day, type of environment, tools (specific pens, your favorite pillows, a comfy chair), and anything else that comes to mind.
For me, getting grounded involves a few particular practices and conditions. I honor that I need quiet to stay focused and I also need others close by to remind me that I am supported. This has looked like working in a co-working space, where I’m among dozens of others wearing noise-canceling headphones, or writing in my home office that shares a wall with my husband, who also works from home. I elect to work in places with natural light and often bring a cup of coffee, water, and sometimes a crystal. I also keep a clock nearby. All of these items bring me comfort, like a grown up’s security blanket.
If you are currently writing about something challenging from your past or present, I invite you to take stock of the conditions you need in place to feel supported as you write. Ask yourself what do you need to feel safe and comfortable in your environment and what helps you feel grounded or regulated when you begin to become overwhelmed?
Activation
The second section of Lifting Heavy Things is Activation. This is when we get moving and, specifically in my work, practice embodied or mindful movement. In the context of strength training, mindful movement may mean focusing on my bicep contracting and extending while doing a bicep curl, or noticing what my foot is doing while I challenge my standing balance. Intentionally bringing your attention to the felt experience of lifting heavy things while you train turns exercise into a moving meditation and also helps you move better. It also affords you the opportunity to practice staying in your body while under stress. Stress isn’t inherently bad and exercise is a stressor!
Just as staying embodied as you train, especially when it’s hard, makes for better form, staying embodied as you write, especially about trauma, can make for better writing. Trauma is not just an emotional experience, it is physiological. We feel our feelings in our body, we don’t think them. In order to bring your audience into the experience with you, you are going to want to capture the sensations of that moment. One of the hardest parts about writing about the past is that when we go back to memories in our mind our body conjures up the feelings we had then, now. So I pay special attention to things that remind me of being present, which goes hand-in-hand with self-awareness.
One of the aforementioned conditions I need for writing is to have a clock in my line of sight. I rely on it to stay aware of how much time has passed as I write. Some people use alarms or timers. For me keeping track of the time more passively with the occasional glance is enough of a cue for me to pause every twenty to thirty minutes to move my body a little bit and take in the sights, sounds, and smells around me. This reminds me that while I am visiting the past in writing, I am not actually there.
To better understand what I mean by this, I invite you to bring to mind a funny thing that happened recently. Really remember the moment: where you were, who you were with, and what was funny. Now notice what you feel in your body and what your body is doing right now. Are you smiling? Are you subtly mimicking the posture you take when you laugh? If I was a betting woman I would say you are. When I think about something funny my whole face feels brighter as if it lights up. I can feel it. My lips curl into a smile. My eyebrows raise and my brow wrinkles. I’m experiencing this memory in my body, as much as in my mind.
We can experience painful memories in our bodies in the same way when we call them up to write. But the difference is, those feelings are likely unpleasant to some degree — fear, grief, shame — and are harder to sit with.That’s why sense checks can be so supportive to remembering you are safe in the present moment. You do this by pausing periodically and taking in your environment.
I come into my body before I write and periodically throughout a writing session by noticing the seat below me and then by scanning my body to see what I feel. And if a sensation is too big to be with, I pause and come back to the present through my senses. If that is not enough, I get up and interact with another person. I don’t always disclose that I am discombobulated or upset. I just say, “Hi,” which is almost like an acknowledgment to myself — ”Hello, Laura, I am here and now, not in my memory.” And if and when I feel ready, I sit back down and continue getting curious about what it is like to go back to that moment.
Trauma-informed work spends small and tolerable amounts of time in small and tolerable amounts of the trauma experience, over time. When something was traumatic it was either too much process or happened too fast to process in the moment. Therefore in order to process it without retraumatizing yourself you need to go at a pace that is not too fast, and work with a small bit of the story that would otherwise be too much. In Lifting Heavy Things I invite the reader to pause and tend to themselves throughout the book the same way I program rests between sets in the gym.
Recovery
In the third and final section of Lifting Heavy Things, I write about recovery from exercise and what recovery from trauma can look like outside of the gym. As we recover from trauma, our relationships begin to shift and a lot of the time that is due to our increased capacity to be aware of and enforce our boundaries.
Knowing and honoring your boundaries when you write is a big part of producing trauma-informed written work. It is also important whenever you share parts of your life in your work. One reason I write is to feel seen and heard, which can feel good but can also be scary.
In order to respect your boundaries you must know where they are. You know them by feeling them. When I am asked in conversation to disclose something that I don’t want to, I know it because there is a sensation of armoring in my chest, the muscles of my face and neck tighten. I constrict. My body is holding onto that story for the moment. And that’s okay.
Are you curious as to how you might experience your boundaries? I invite you to feel your boundaries right now with this exercise:
Take a moment to settle in your seat wherever you are. Notice your body being supported by whatever is beneath your feet, seat, and back. Then bring to mind someone who you would rather not receive a hug from. Maybe they are someone you find annoying or they are stinky or sweaty. Now imagine them coming in to hug you. What does your body do? That reflex is your body feeling and demonstrating a boundary.
If you write personal narratives, next time you practice, consider checking in and noticing how your body is experiencing the moment. Is it constricted or resisting somewhere, or is it open? In noticing you are on your way to a more self-aware and powerful writing practice.
When you are done writing, close your practice. Maybe you have a ritual like closing all the programs on your computer or putting away your notebook in a drawer or on your shelf. Perhaps now you sit down to lunch. Whatever it is, engage in a ritual that tells your body you are done with your writing practice for now.
With these three considerations in mind, you can take care of yourself while writing from your more personal and tender places. This may ultimately turn your writing practice into a healing practice for you and your readers.
(originally published on Medium April 4, 2022)