How third-person writing brings clarity and courage

Stepping Back to See More Clearly

When we’ve been through trauma, writing about it can feel overwhelming. The words press against us, but the thought of putting “I” in front of them feels too raw, too close, too vulnerable. I was hurt. I was abandoned. I was betrayed.

Sometimes those sentences sit in our throats, refusing to come out. That is where the gift of third-person writing enters in. By shifting the story ever so slightly—She was hurt. He was abandoned. She was betrayed—we create a gentle distance. We step back, as if observing from across the room, and suddenly, the unbearable becomes writable.

Third-person storytelling does not dilute the truth; it makes it possible to hold. It gives us just enough space to tell the story we have been carrying, without being consumed by it.

Writing as Self-Compassion

Third-person writing has a way of softening our self-judgment. When we use “I,” the inner critic often rises quickly: I should have known better. I stayed too long. I let this happen. But when we write in third person, something shifts:

She stayed because she believed love was patient. She hoped things would change. She wanted to protect her children from more instability.

Suddenly, we see ourselves through gentler eyes. We treat ourselves as we would a friend. Writing in third person is, in many ways, an act of self-compassion.

We begin to say, Of course she stayed. Of course she was afraid. Of course he longed to be seen. And in that space, healing begins to take root.

Finding Courage Through Distance

Sometimes the hardest part of writing is not remembering the events—it’s facing them. Memories can feel jagged, like broken glass. We fear that if we touch them, they’ll cut us again.

Writing in third person acts like gloves that allow us to handle sharp pieces more safely. The events are still there. The emotions are still real. But the little bit of distance gives us courage to pick them up, to examine them, and to begin arranging them into a story that makes sense.

This distance doesn’t mean denial. It simply means we are wise about how much weight we can carry at once. God, after all, remembers that we are dust (Psalm 103:14). He knows our limits. Third-person writing honors those limits while still moving us toward truth.

A Biblical Reflection: Parables as Third-Person Stories

Jesus Himself often chose to tell stories in the third person. He could have confronted people directly with their failures. Instead, He said, “A man had two sons…” or “There was a woman who lost a coin…”

Why? Because story opens hearts. Third-person narratives allow us to see ourselves without immediate defensiveness. The Pharisees could hear about a vineyard owner and his tenants, and only later realize the story was about them. The disciples could hear of a widow’s persistence and only afterward recognize it was a model for their own prayers.

In the same way, writing in third person helps us sneak past our own defenses. It allows us to tell the truth without shutting down. And eventually, as the Spirit works, we may come to recognize: That story was me all along.

Naming the Inner Child

For many trauma survivors, third-person writing becomes a bridge to reconnect with the inner child—the younger self who endured what happened. Writing about “her” or “him” allows us to sit beside that version of ourselves, to listen without judgment, to finally offer the tenderness that was missing.

For example:

She was only seven when it happened. She didn’t know what it meant. She only knew that she felt small, powerless, and afraid.

Writing in this way opens a door to grieve what that child endured. It allows us to hold her hand, to say, I see you now. I believe you. I will not leave you.

This practice of third-person writing honors the younger self that still longs for comfort and truth.

Moving Toward First Person

Over time, something beautiful often happens. After pages and pages of “she” and “he,” the heart may find itself whispering, almost shyly: I.

I was the one who stayed. I was the one who longed for love. I was the one who suffered—and I am the one who is healing.

The shift back into first person is not forced. It happens gently, when the heart is ready. Third-person writing is like training wheels on a bicycle—it gives balance until we can ride freely again.

Practical Ways to Try Third-Person Writing

If you want to try writing your story in third person, here are some gentle practices to guide you:

Start with a character name. Give your third-person self a name, even if it’s your own. Begin: Sarah walked into the room, not knowing what would come next.
Describe feelings more than events. Focus on how she felt, what he longed for, what she believed in that moment.
Switch perspectives. If you feel comfortable, write a scene twice—once in third person, then in first person. Notice what changes.
Read aloud. Sometimes hearing the story spoken helps you feel compassion for the “character” in ways you can’t when reading silently.
Invite God into the story. After writing, pause to imagine God’s presence in that scene. How might He have looked at “her” in that moment? What might He say to “him” now?

A Gentle Closing Thought

Writing in third person is not about escaping reality. It is about creating a safe doorway into it. It gives us the courage to face what was too heavy before.

If writing in first person feels too raw, let “she” or “he” carry the weight for a while. Let them tell the story. In time, you may find that the distance grows smaller, until one day, you can look at the page and say: Yes. That was me. And I am healing.

Because the truth is this: your story matters, in whatever voice it is told. Whether whispered in third person or declared in first, it is worth telling. And in the telling, you will find both clarity and courage.

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Sarah's Story

The Gift of Writing in Third Person