If you see someone with an opened notebook and pen in deep thought, you might think he or she is writing the next great novel. But the truth could be, the person is writing for health.
Writing for health? What does that mean?
When we suffer a loss --- either the death of a loved one, a broken relationship, a firing from a job, a financial crisis, or a diagnosis that is difficult --- our minds and bodies are affected. We often cry and want comfort.
As the situation continues, we look for ways to help us cope with the magnitude of our loss. We can feel isolated because no one understands the full picture of what we are going through. There are times we don't understand it all either. Our grief is unique and we are new to it. We know we have to manuever through, but how is this done? Our days feel sad and desperate.
This is when writing enters the scene.
Writing is a healthy way to unleash pent-up angry, sadness, and other emotions friends, family, and coworkers might not care to hear. The emotions have to go somewhere, and putting them onto paper is a lot healthier than yelling, slamming the door, or kicking the cat.
When we write about the heartaches, the pain flows from our hearts onto paper. This eases the anguish, even if only for a while. We've shared our emotions and ponderings with paper. The paper carries a portion of our sorrow for us.
Studies have shown the beneftis of writing for health. Dr. James Pennebaker conducted a study among students at the University of Texas that proved expressive writing lowers blood pressure, pulse rates, and provides better health all around.
So the next time you have to deal with a major---or even minor---sorrow in your life, get a good notebook and pick up your pen and write! You will be suprised at what your heart wants to convey and encouraged as clarity and calm spring forth through your written words. If you're smart, you'll spend ten to fifteen minutes each day writing. The important factors are to not worry about spelling, penmanship, or whether you will be judged by your emotions. No one has to see your words. The notebook is for you only. Discover how picking up your pen leads to a healhier life as you journey through your anguish.
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Join us for the Weep Boldly; Write Bravely Writing Workshop, Saturday, April 27th at the Hampton Inn in Raleigh, NC.
Monday, April 22, 2024
Monday, April 1, 2024
And Then I Met James
The older we grow as we travel this journey called Life, the more we realize we don't walk alone; many have influenced us. Friends, family, clergy, and others have provided guidance over the years.
After my son died, I filled journals with emotions, questions, woes----basically, lots of pain. Most of the pages were not ones I wished to share with anyone. Even though I felt I was losing my mind, fading from who I used to be, and finding the future scary, writing gave me comfort. Journaing brought clarity, and sometimes even solace. To help me on my rocky journey, I also devoured books about grief from memoirs to tomes on writing. It was in Louise DeSalvo's book that I met James Pennebaker.
Who is James? In a nutshell, he's a professor at the University of Texas at Austin whose studies have shown the value of expressive writing when dealing with turmoil. James' work piqued my interest.
In one six-week study, he had half his class write about trivial things and the other half write about wounds and the more sorrowful parts of life. At the end of the study, those who had written deeply were healthier. Pulse rates, heart rates, etc., were checked before and after the study to prove this.
James writes: “If keeping a secret about a trauma was unhealthy, it made sense that having people reveal the secret should improve health. As a social psychologist, I was concerned with having people talk about their secrets to another person because of the complicated social dynamics that would likely result. Consequently, I decided to have participants write about the most traumatic experience of their lives or, for those in a control condition, write about superficial topics.”
I knew writing worked, but because of James' studies, the value of writing as a tool for healing has become more "scientific" for me. The findings from his work are evidence I can use when I advocate for writing as a means of healing. It's not just me telling others writing works because it worked for me (and continues to do so), but there is research that validates how effective what I call "grief and loss writing" is.
My "After Daniel" journals were safe places to unleash all the feelings bottled in my heart. These tear-stained epistles now sit in my closet in a large canvas bag given to me by Sascha, a twice-bereaved mom, poet, and friend. These journals represent my journey of healing, and are one of the reasons, like James, I believe in the writing-health connection.
Writing through life's traumas is good therapy!
After my son died, I filled journals with emotions, questions, woes----basically, lots of pain. Most of the pages were not ones I wished to share with anyone. Even though I felt I was losing my mind, fading from who I used to be, and finding the future scary, writing gave me comfort. Journaing brought clarity, and sometimes even solace. To help me on my rocky journey, I also devoured books about grief from memoirs to tomes on writing. It was in Louise DeSalvo's book that I met James Pennebaker.
Who is James? In a nutshell, he's a professor at the University of Texas at Austin whose studies have shown the value of expressive writing when dealing with turmoil. James' work piqued my interest.
In one six-week study, he had half his class write about trivial things and the other half write about wounds and the more sorrowful parts of life. At the end of the study, those who had written deeply were healthier. Pulse rates, heart rates, etc., were checked before and after the study to prove this.
James writes: “If keeping a secret about a trauma was unhealthy, it made sense that having people reveal the secret should improve health. As a social psychologist, I was concerned with having people talk about their secrets to another person because of the complicated social dynamics that would likely result. Consequently, I decided to have participants write about the most traumatic experience of their lives or, for those in a control condition, write about superficial topics.”
I knew writing worked, but because of James' studies, the value of writing as a tool for healing has become more "scientific" for me. The findings from his work are evidence I can use when I advocate for writing as a means of healing. It's not just me telling others writing works because it worked for me (and continues to do so), but there is research that validates how effective what I call "grief and loss writing" is.
My "After Daniel" journals were safe places to unleash all the feelings bottled in my heart. These tear-stained epistles now sit in my closet in a large canvas bag given to me by Sascha, a twice-bereaved mom, poet, and friend. These journals represent my journey of healing, and are one of the reasons, like James, I believe in the writing-health connection.
Writing through life's traumas is good therapy!
Labels:
Alice Wisler,
bereavement,
James Pennebaker,
Journaling through grief,
Weep Boldly; Write Bravely,
Writing through grief and loss
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