I wasn’t ready to write a poem about my breast cancer until I finished all my treatments. During chemo and radiation, my energy was going into survival. It wasn’t until I was in recovery from the toxic, life-saving therapy that my pen began writing. And even then, I had to trick it.

copyright Robert Wilson

I went to a one-day writing retreat at a hotel in Central Jersey. I had been to this retreat before, so I thought I knew what to expect. The prompt was a complicated one, designed to distract the thinking mind so that the unconscious could emerge.

Write about a car. Go! Okay, I can do that. I had experienced a rock hitting my windshield, so I wrote about that.

Suddenly, I was that wounded car. My voice cracked and I was near tears when I read the draft to the other writers. I apologized, but of course, the group assured me no apology was necessary.

You can read that poem, “Pucker,” here.

The Healing Power of Narrative

At break time, one of the participants shared her own journey with ovarian cancer. She wanted to comfort me, to let me know I wasn’t alone. It worked; I was happy to have her validation.

The next spring, at another writing retreat, my poems were about the fluffy gray hair that had grown back under my wig. It was a weekend at the beach and my first wigless appearance. I wanted to feel the ocean breeze.

After I read my poem, a woman in the group shared her experience of having lost all her hair. She’d lost it not once but twice, once for brain surgery and once from chemotherapy. As she listened to my poem, she was like an unstruck crystal glass that vibrates and sings. The right frequency was sounded. Stories heal more than once, first for the teller, and then for the listeners.

The Healing Power of Writing

Two years ago, I became certified in facilitating writing groups using the Amherst Writers & Artists (AWA) method. This week, I facilitated my first small group for staff who work at the AtlantiCare HealthPlex. Over the next nine weeks, we will learn to know and trust one another through our writing; we will create a community as we hone our craft.

In my medical practice, life is hard for many of the patients. They live daily with food insecurity, homelessness, and stigma. As compassionate caregivers, our daily interactions with traumatized patients lead to stress and burnout from secondary trauma.

Writing is a proven way of healing from vicarious trauma. In keeping with my semi-retired status, I’ve found time to dedicate to writing. Half of my time is spent taking care of patients. The other half is spent in self-care and in caring for others: colleagues, family, friends.

The Science Behind the Practice

• In the 1980s, James Pennebaker, a psychologist, studied and wrote about Expressive Writing.
• In his first study, college students did 15 minutes of writing for four days in a row about the emotional impact of a traumatic experience.
• A control group wrote about a neutral topic.
• In the month after the study, those who had written about their experience showed a 50% drop in visits to the university health center when compared to the control group.
• The implication was that lowered emotional stress had a beneficial effect on the immune system and overall health of the students.

In the last 30 years, many researchers have confirmed these findings. The healing power of writing encompasses body, mind, and emotions. It’s a perfect antidote to stress and burnout.

Question: When have you told a story that helped someone who heard it? Leave a comment and tell me about it.