How writing our stories helps us process trauma
The Ache Beneath the Silence
Trauma has a way of silencing us. We carry experiences in our bodies, in our nervous systems, in our hearts, long before we find words. Sometimes we bury them so deep that we begin to believe silence is safer than speaking.
But silence is heavy. It presses down on the soul, convincing us that our stories are too much, too messy, too broken to be shared. And yet, the very thing we fear—speaking our story—often becomes the doorway to healing.
Storytelling is not just about words on paper. It is about giving shape to what has lived unspoken within us. It is about naming the pain so it no longer owns us in secret.
Storytelling as Meaning-Making
When something painful happens, especially in childhood or in a vulnerable season, it often feels senseless. We ask ourselves: Why me? Why then? What did it mean? Trauma disrupts the thread of meaning that usually weaves life together.
By writing our stories, we begin to stitch those threads again. We create a beginning, middle, and end where life once felt like a blur of chaos. The act of writing doesn’t erase what happened—but it places the events inside a frame. And in that frame, we begin to discover meaning.
Meaning-making is not about “everything happens for a reason.” It’s about allowing ourselves to look back and see how God’s presence remained, even in the shadows. It’s about realizing that the worst thing about us is not the truest thing about us.
The Third-Person Gift
One of the most surprising tools in storytelling is the choice to write in third person. Instead of “I was hurt,” we write “She was hurt.” Instead of “I couldn’t find my way,” we write “He wandered, searching for something solid to stand on.”
This shift might feel small, but it offers a powerful layer of compassion. Writing about ourselves in the third person allows us to see our younger selves with tenderness, as if they were a friend or child we long to protect.
Many trauma survivors find that third-person writing helps them bypass the inner critic that whispers, You’re exaggerating. You’re making this up. You deserved it. By writing about “Sarah” instead of “me,” we create enough distance to let the truth emerge.
And often, once the truth is spoken in third person, the heart finds the courage to whisper it in first person: I was hurt. I was silenced. I am healing.
A Biblical Echo of Storytelling
The Bible itself is a collection of stories. God could have given us a list of commands, a manual of doctrines, or a neat philosophy book. Instead, He gave us a library of narratives: shepherd boys becoming kings, prophets wrestling with despair, women at wells whose lives were transformed by encounters with Jesus.
Storytelling is God’s chosen way of communicating truth. He meets us in stories because stories are how we make sense of life. When we write our own, we echo this divine pattern. We join a long line of people who dared to tell what happened and how God showed up in the middle of it.
The Slow Work of Writing
Healing through storytelling does not happen in one sitting. Sometimes it begins with a single sentence, scribbled in a notebook or typed into a phone: She felt the weight of rejection again today.
That one sentence may open a floodgate. Or it may sit quietly, waiting for another sentence to join it tomorrow. Both are sacred.
Writing our story is a slow work, because healing is a slow work. Each word becomes a stepping stone across the river of memory. And some days, it may feel like we’ve stepped backward instead of forward. That’s okay. Progress is not always linear, but every attempt to write is a declaration: I am more than what happened to me. My story matters.
Storytelling as Resistance
There is something deeply resistant about telling the truth. Trauma, abuse, and toxic relationships thrive on silence. Abusers depend on secrecy. Systems of power often pressure victims to stay quiet.
When we tell our stories, we resist those forces. We reclaim the narrative from those who tried to rewrite it. We declare that what happened is not hidden, and that we refuse to carry shame that does not belong to us.
Storytelling says, I will not let darkness define me. I will speak light into what once seemed unspeakable.
Storytelling as Connection
One of the most profound aspects of storytelling is that it reminds us we are not alone. When we read another person’s story, we often see reflections of our own. We realize the very feelings we thought no one could understand are, in fact, shared by many.
This is why community storytelling matters so deeply. Your story might be the one that gives someone else language for their hidden wounds. Your honesty might unlock someone else’s courage. And in that exchange, healing flows both ways.
Practical Ways to Begin
If the idea of writing your story feels overwhelming, here are a few gentle ways to start:
- Write in fragments. You don’t need to begin with the whole narrative. Write one memory, one feeling, one moment.
- Use third person. Write about “her” or “him” instead of “I.” Let the distance create space for compassion.
- Choose a safe time and place. Writing about trauma can be activating. Set aside time when you feel grounded, and allow yourself to stop when it feels heavy.
- Write with honesty, not perfection. This is not about grammar or style. It’s about truth.
- Share if you’re ready. Sometimes the act of writing is enough. Other times, you may feel led to share with a trusted friend, counselor, or community.
A Gentle Closing Thought
Telling our stories is not about reliving the past; it is about reclaiming our future. Each word we put on the page is a seed of healing. Some seeds sprout quickly. Others take time. But each one matters.
Your story is sacred. Your voice carries weight. Even if the world never hears it, the act of telling it reshapes you.
And perhaps, in the telling, you will discover what so many before you have found: that God was never absent, that your pain does not have the final word, and that healing is possible—even here, even now.
TOMFAW – Trusting Our Maker Finding A Way
- On storytelling and trauma recovery (psychological lens):
- On expressive writing as therapy (academic study):
- On the power of narrative and resilience (faith + healing blend):