Writing as Healing
Here’s where the world comes to me and I rise to meet it. Hours each day are spent here, learning, exploring, questioning, expanding and frequently being humbled by how much I don’t know. It’s where I write and writing is how I attempt to build a larger inner life. Anne Frank understood it all. "I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn." She was correct.
Some fascinating research has emerged in just the last couple of years linking the practice of expressive writing with the improvement of health. The tests were performed almost exclusively on those who had suffered an emotional traumatic episode. Just the act of expressing their inner pain brought them into a place of physical healing. Doctors examining these test cases were surprised to discover that the immune system began to function better and that in everything from arthritis to asthma, from breast cancer to migraines, the healing effect of expressive writing was clear.
I believe that to be a wonderful discovery, but that’s not the kind of writing that has engaged me personally. For some, it is the larger, broader world that has healing effects – the inner life expands as the greater world becomes more engaging.
I returned from a trip overseas last week with a serious health issue, requiring hospitalization and series of blood transfusions. I felt awful, low in stamina, and the realization that with a heavy schedule ahead of me that I just wasn’t up to the many tasks. But after my wife and daughter drove me home from University Hospital, I found myself drawn to that corner of the living room where my desk was situated and the world waited to be explored, appreciated and fretted over.
The moment I began writing, I felt energized. Physically, healing will take time, but the link between inspiration and healing is so immediate and archived that I’m already feeling the quickened pace of recovery. It is no accident, nor trick of mind, but forms a well-chronicled symbiosis between the engagement of our ideals and physical health.
It is true, as Paulo Coelho put it: “Tears are words that need to be written.” But so are ideas, inspirations, the unknown. They draw us as opposed to propelling us from some inner urge. Artists are like that. Some, like Van Gogh, are driven by the chaos of inner turmoil. Others, say Da Vinci, are drawn by curiosity of things they don’t understand and wish to grasp.
When you think about it, there’s likely never been a better time to do some writing. Online platforms have invested millions and millions of dollars in creating free tools that once were only available through publishing firms. But the point is to write or else it’s all wasted. If you are propelled by personal experience to write, then someone like Margaret Atwood can be a guide: “Tears are words that need to be written.” But if you are drawn to larger issues, like me, then Albert Camus carries a lot of weight: “The purpose of a writer is to keep civilization from destroying itself.”
Now out of hospital for a few days, I feel my best, my strongest, when seated at the desk you see above. Healing comes with engagement, whether dealing with our own emotions or the broader dealings of humanity. If we don’t write, healing will take longer. The issue is not about selling or publicity, even vanity, but about personal growth. It’s just that simple. We write not to just to tell stories, but to understand them. That’s just the way Stephen King sees it: “We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.” If writing is akin to healing, either emotionally or physically, it’s time we started putting pen to paper.