mental-health | ENG 5020: Writing Theory & Practice

In “Expressive Writing, Emotional Upheavals, and Health,” James W. Pennebaker and Cindy K. Chung discuss the health benefits of writing, specifically writing in order to help people work through trauma. They write, “The problem of capturing an experience with language is comparable to the engineering difficulty of defining an analog signal using digital technology,” and I’m very inclined to agree (Pennebaker and Chung 26). I believe that when writing about traumatic experiences especially, people may be initially resistant to put pen to page, making the transference from experience to written word a bit difficult for some. Maybe I just have trouble finding the words, but when it comes to my own journaling, I spend a lot of time trying to get as close as I can to describing or emulating the emotions I felt during the time I’m trying to record; I feel like focusing on doing so is a huge part of what helps an individual process these events in the first place, but the writing of the event often comes after I’ve processed the event to a certain degree. Pennebaker and Chung don’t seem to agree, as they continue, “Once an experience is translated into language, however, it can be processed in a conceptual manner. In language format, the individual can assign meaning, coherence, and structure. This would allow for the event to be assimilated and, ultimately, resolved and/or forgotten, thereby alleviating the maladaptive effects of incomplete emotional processing on health” (Pennebaker and Chung 27). In my own experience, the writing and processing aren’t so clean cut; I believe the act of writing helps with processing, but there is a lot of overlap between the two. I can’t write down my experience until I acknowledge my experience, but in order to do so I need to process it, even in part. I do believe that the strange zone between “experience” and “written” is where healing starts to begin, similar to how acknowledging a change is needed can help facilitate change.

All this being said, I definitely believe there are positive benefits to writing about these traumatic events. I do think that having them committed to writing can help signify a sort of moving on, or at the very least, it gives the writer space to organize and reframe their experience in order to find closure. Additionally, the fact that the health benefits of writing are being studied is something that fills me with hope and gladness, as it verifies the feeling I’ve had for years that writing is a positive, healing force in my life.

This blog post was written while listening to Charlie Parker’s 1951 album The Magnificent Charlie Parker. I went to a jazz bar with some friends this past weekend named Ornithology, and its name made me want to listen to some Charlie Parker for the rest of the weekend.

Writing our emotions certainly sounds easier said than done, at least to me. I was told once that when writing, specifically poems, to not write about something that you are currently going through, such as any kind of hardship; you should wait until it passes to write about it. In the moment, it made sense to me. When something is actively happening, you are automatically too close to the emotions that you might not be able to see the situation and what it will leave you with clearly.

Despite the article somewhat proving this point, I find that writing about your emotions, no matter the time relativity of a specific stressful event to the time you begin to write about it, may help. What struck me was the very first study mentioned in the article, which lasted for four days, where the participants were asked to write for 15-30 minutes each day. Thus, at the minimum of 60 minutes or the maximum 120 minutes, participants reaped physical benefits. In a combined total of one or two hours per week of writing, participants felt better in some kind of way. When described in this manner, it sounds much easier to do than originally expected. Though, it is important to remember this evidence was brought to light through ideal circumstances, and not everything one is going through will suddenly fix itself because of a few minutes of daily writing.

I also find the way in which the participants are asked to write are interesting as well. The writers reap better consequences when they are able to write about whatever they want. Pennebaker and Chung note, “Forcing individuals to write about a particular topic or in a particular way may cause them to focus on the writing itself rather than the topic and the role of their emotion in the overall story,” (14). I feel this statement applies to all kind of writing, not just personal writing. If we are given a set of constraints, we are locking some part of us away. Once the gates are down, we are able to fully emote and express our thoughts without certain filters that promote lack of identity or inhibit honesty.

The heightened success of engaging in expressive writing while also doing physical, cognitive work piqued my interest. As someone who has an abundance of knowledge regarding dance and its history, I find that the evidence showing students who engaged in movement that expressed their traumatic experience while also actively writing about reaped the most benefits. This is not surprising to hear, as dance is known to improve neural activity and overall connect all parts of the body (there is an innate sense in all of us to move!). When pairing writing and movement together, we are translating traumatic experiences through seemingly two different vessels, but in reality are helping the individual work express inhibited emotions without outward communication: writing and especially movement are different kinds of communication because you can do it in so many ways… talking always works the same way.

Not only does movement help, but those who change perspective, use positive emotion words, and construct a coherent story exhibit better health after engaging in expressive writing. By using these methods within the writing, it is possible to examine what life has looked like and what it may look like in the future (life course). Whether it is from taking the time to ponder about these things, or being able to see it on a page and freeing some space in the mind, it allows people to feel better. Though from my understanding, it seems that the emotional state may not be bettered or worsened, the improvement of the physical state caused by the expressive writing may act as a catalyst for mindfulness and healing.

Thus, it seems I must take the advice of those who have been recommending active journaling. I should also get myself in some kind of movement class, too, because it has been a long time and my mind and body might enjoy it. It seems finger-writing may also be in my future (this observation drew me in as well – when I was a child, I would often write what I was thinking with my finger onto any surface that was near me, so maybe I have to lean into that childhood habit again to promote some healing?). In closing, I should write more about myself, but not in the way I have been doing, and especially eradicate all first person pronouns (too extreme?).