An Exercise in Healing

Contents

nvariably, on this journey of ours, we are going to get hurt. A myriad of remorse and regrets, amassed from what people do to us, or what we do to ourselves, will bruise our souls somewhere down a line that is constantly being redrawn in today's fast-paced, ever-changing human society. This inevitability is in the very nature of things as they stand today.

But our mind is designed to be an effective problem solver, so how can it connect with the heart to solve matters painful to both? As discussed in the previous chapters, there are tools for healing. Writing is one of them. For example, I remember reading a BBC article five years ago headlined "Does poetry have the power to heal?" that focused on a man's firm belief in poetry's inherent feel-good factor. And although the report states that art's revitalising impact on those who are feeling down is not a new idea, it's a potent reminder of the effect words have on us.

The more pragmatic among us may scoff, but in a very real sense words are the stuff of magic. The very instruments with which we record our human history are also the tools of our childlike wonder. Our scribbles are a reflection of who we are.

Words are like us. Every word has its own story. Inside each word is a kernel of its development; it houses its own unique history in the very bones of its letters. Like us, they are alive. They make feelings breathe, they are subject to change, and they can die from neglect. And used for good, words have the potential to be an antidote to open wounds, and the medicine to help heal what ails you. They can make us truly feel what we feel, help us to connect, and reach out to others.

But, just as importantly, the process of writing aids us in reaching out to ourselves. This is where the real healing begins. In the past - and even in these enlightened times - you would be considered mad for talking to yourself, however, such an internal tête-à-tête has been recorded to carry emotional and mental benefits.

The Write Exercises for Healing

If we go down the academic route, one of the most immediate and accessible benefits of writing has been shown to be that it can provide a safe space to process thoughts and emotions. Feelings can feel intense, particularly when they are mixed up and difficult to describe. Writing helps us sort through those complicated feelings. When we write about our experiences (especially difficult ones) we give a voice to our inner world. This not only helps us understand our predicament, but it also reduces the emotional power of those experiences. In fact, studies have shown that expressive writing (writing about personal experiences) can significantly reduce stress and emotional distress.

Dr. James W. Pennebaker, an American author and psychology professor whose works have been advocating the power of words for decades, believes expressive writing, also known as emotional writing, is a path to healing. Pennebaker's assignment is this: We write down our innermost feelings about an emotional turmoil in our life for 15 or 20 minutes a day constantly for four days. Note that Dr. Pennebaker suggests to write down only manageable trauma. Although writing is an exercise in healing, it is still an "exposure” experience, which is normally done under the guidance of a therapist or counsellor.

Nevertheless, by journaling or free writing, we give ourselves permission to be honest without fear of judgment. That alone can be incredibly healing. In discussing sensory awareness, we already touched upon sensory journaling as a practical technique to help unlock our senses. This is a form of mindful writing, a practice that a large body of literature suggests uses elements of mindfulness, namely awareness and an impartial acceptance of our moment-to-moment experience, to allow our narrative to emerge and be as it is, and to respond with curiosity and kindness.

Self-compassion is thought to be essential to healing from trauma or adversity, and to untangle emotional knots. The thinking behind it is that mindful writing allows us to better relate to our traumatic experience, the act of writing, and our self without getting entangled in regret and rumination over what we wish could change. In the past decade, empirical studies have shown that mindfulness produces various positive psychological effects, including increased subjective wellbeing, reduced psychological symptoms and emotional reactivity, and improved behavioral regulation.

It might seem surprising, but writing promotes physical health, too. Research suggests its benefits extend beyond mental and emotional wellbeing into the physical realm. Several studies have found links between expressive writing and improved immune function, lower blood pressure, and even faster recovery from surgery. One study published in the journal Biopsychosocial Science and Medicine (previously known as Psychosomatic Medicine) found that participants who wrote about traumatic events experienced fewer doctor visits for illness in the months that followed. Another study showed that expressive writing reduced symptoms in people with chronic conditions like asthma and rheumatoid arthritis. The exact mechanisms are not fully understood, but scientists believe that writing reduces stress, which in turn boosts the body's natural healing systems.

Another key benefit to writing is that it builds self-awareness. The first step towards healing often begins with understanding, an understanding about what we feel, why we react the way we do, and what our needs really are. Writing helps foster this kind of self-awareness, allowing us to engage with the deepest and most immediate parts of ourselves. When we regularly write about our thoughts, we will see patterns begin to emerge. We might notice repeated themes like fear of abandonment, low self-esteem, or unresolved anger. These insights allow us to take proactive steps toward healing. We cannot change what we do not understand, and writing helps illuminate what lies beneath the surface.

Reflective writing, in particular, encourages self-examination and emotional insight. Over time, this builds a stronger sense of identity and emotional intelligence, which are key to long term healing. We have already mentioned using a third party narrative as a meditative technique to help distance us from or allow us to observe objectively a current emotional knot. Such narrative (or life) writing approaches are described as non-judgmental, non-pathological, and meaning-constructing activities. We give meaning to our experiences, and such meaning influences how we see ourselves, others, and the world around us. It is understood that because we communicate reality, in large part, by language, that a narrative is essential to maintaining and organising our lived experience.

The goal of narrative writing, therefore, is to "co-author" life narratives that transform self-expression and understanding into a writing practice, which helps a person to integrate, find coherence, and heal. For example, co-authoring the relationship I have built between my mind, body and spirit has helped me reach a greater understanding of all three. Studies have shown that this form of understanding, or "meaning-making" can decrease stress, increase well-being, improve academic performance, and make people more open to behaviour change. The most salient aspect of narrative or life writing is that in writing and, more specifically, should we wish to rewrite our stories, we retain authorship over our lives, even in challenging or injurious situations.

The Way to Heal: Write from the Heart

Expressing our deeper thoughts and feelings through these writing practices can result in significant mental health benefits, to transform emotional pain and re-author our lives. As we have seen, writing encourages mindfulness. When we focus on the act of writing, we are in fact practicing being present in the moment. Whether we employ sensory journaling, daily reflections, or even creative storytelling, we are giving our brain a break from its typical loop of worry and overthinking.

Writing can function almost like a pressure valve, allowing us to release stress and frustration that cause anxiety. When our thoughts are swirling, writing them down can create a sense of order and control. A study published in the Journal of Anxiety, Stress, and Coping found that writing about worries before a stressful task (like an exam or public speaking) helped people perform better and feel less anxious. Simply putting your fears on paper helps get them out of your head.

This leads to enhancing our emotional resilience, which is the ability to bounce back from life’s challenges. It is essential for healing and personal growth, and writing can help build this resilience by enabling us to reframe negative experiences. When we revisit painful memories through writing, we have a chance to see them from a new perspective. For instance, with a daily practice of narrative writing, we might begin to see our strength, learn important lessons, or uncover silver linings. This shift in narrative is crucial. Instead of seeing ourselves as victims, we begin to see ourselves as survivors. The stories we tell ourselves shape our realities. Writing gives us the power to rewrite those stories.

Our stories are the pathways to the poet, the writer, and all creatives, and such practices done with sensory awareness will undoubtedly foster creativity, but it will also fosters practice. The methods mentioned above, including Dr. Pennebaker's assignment, as with mindfulness techniques, need to be done regularly. As it is important to check in regularly with the self, we can only harness the power of writing when done regularly. Whether it be with pen and paper, on a digital device, or "in the body" (writing in your head), for our stories to heal us, we must keep telling them.

This "writing as a practice" or process-focused writing is based in the belief that the simple act of writing can be transformative for people in four key ways: First to remember who they were and reimagine who they are; second to discover and fulfill their deepest desire; three to accept pain, fear, and uncertainty, and at the same time find a place of safety, security, and serenity; and finally to claim their voice, tell their story, and share their work as a gift to others, and in so doing enrich and deepen understanding of the human condition.

The goal of process-focused writing is not to create a work of art, or to create something for publication, but rather to engage with the writing process over time in a way that allows us to discover strength, wisdom and creativity as important sources of health and wellness. Thus, the fundamental aspect of process-focused writing is for us to write regularly and with intention, and with commitment to bring that writing to completion, and to have unconditional acceptance of our desire to write, believing that the very act of writing will dispense curative benefits.

Another writing practice with curative benefits is scriptio divina (an extension of lectio divina (meaning "divine, or sacred, reading"), a technique handed down through millennia to help readers become immersed in a text. Similarly, scriptio divina considers the act of writing sacred, because it allows a person to engage slowly with what is deepest inside them and what is immediate for them. Its goal is to engage writing as a sacred practice that facilitates the mind-body-spirit interdependence and uses the substance of the heart as a source of revelation, inspiration, and healing. The most important aspect of scriptio divina is that it develops an authorial identity; it validates our role as author, and deepens our own experience of existential being.

For me, writing The Inner Sanctum manual incorporates both these practices, while sharing with readers the methods that helped me build my inner sanctum has been a healing process in itself. After caring for my mother for nearly nine years, her death wrenched my purpose and focus from me, and for two years, I lost my way to my inner sanctum. I was filled with a rage I had hitherto never experienced. My mind and body disconnected. I suffered imbalance. It was not until my therapist suggested that I return to my writing, and to completing this manual, that I finally started on the road to recovery. As always in my life, words became my saviour, and as I wrote, I slowly discovered that my sudden rages were rooted in an unspoken shame. I had promised my mother before she died that I would continue my writing, and to go on with my life. I had broken that promise. In my grief, I had abandoned what was most sacred to me, my words.

After I resumed my writing, however, I forgave myself for turning my back on life. I began all my usual activies; I engaged my senses and breathwork, returned to my gym, found joy in food and nature again, and the rage slipped away. My own personal experience showed me that writing is not only a way in to your inner sanctum, it is your inner sanctum; a narrative that combines mindfulness and self-awareness to re-engage with mind, body and spirit. I had found my way back, and my healing had began.

So, can stories really heal our hearts? I believe they can. Can writing our own stories heal us? Absolutely, as my own experience can attest. My mother was the gentlest soul, the kindest person I ever knew, and the strongest and most courageous, too. I understand now why I was so angry, and forgave my rage, and if the best way to let go of negative feelings is to give them a place to go, then putting them down on paper seems like the ideal solution. To go back to Dr. Pennebaker's writing exercise, academic features on his work write that many of those who followed his simple instructions have found their lives have changed. I would agree. If nothing else, the assignment is a good exercise in distracting the mind from the worries besting it, and helps keep it active, too.

There are other methods you could try, the age old tradition of keeping a diary is one that immediately springs to mind. Or in reference to that BBC article, you could try some medicinal poetry. Or if the upheaval in your life is heartbreak over another, you could write a letter to the person concerned. As you're never going to post the letter, you can pour all your pent up feelings on to paper without inhibition.

Go write to yourself. See what you find out. See what you can change, or what has changed you.

Published 18 December, 2010 5 March, 2026

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