Welcome to the (actually) powerful art of making mental space

This is no temporary fix – a simple tool for mental peace and resilience

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Magic happens when we engage with our inner worlds in a particular way. All those horrible human tangles of anxiety, doubt, resentment and other pain can start to unravel when we learn to either think through, talk through or journal about our experiences in a certain way. The problem is that we don't use this trick naturally, which can be a problem. Some worsen their issues after exploring their darker experiences, because they find reliving their pain… well, painful. If we engage in the wrong way, in other words, emotional exploration can harm rather than heal. 

What is expressive writing?

The skill I'm talking about can be used in lots of different ways – we can apply it to our self-talk, visualisations, conversations with people and in various other creative ways, too, but I think it's best learned in writing, so that's what I'm going to talk about here. Before I explain the all-important trick, let me give you an outline of how to write for personal change.

Expressive writing (sometimes called emotional writing) is a form of writing used as a therapeutic tool. While some may go on to share their musings (usually after a lot of editing), in its essence, this expressive writing is not about publication. Rather, it’s a personal tool for developing self-awareness, self-compassion and self-command because something really quite magical can happen when pen meets paper in the spirit of enquiry.

In their book "Romancing the Shadow", Connie Zweig and Steven Wolf share some beautiful pieces of writing done by their psychotherapy clients as part of their treatment. There are a number of reasons to do this, but the big one is that by putting our emotions into writing – that is, into language – we force the brain to process those feelings and the experiences that evoked them in a new and different way. 

Essentially, because the language centres of the brain are in the cortex (that's the more recently developed, outer part of the brain) as opposed to the areas that deal with raw emotion, which are in the limbic system or reptilian brain, writing can coax us out of our knee-jerk emotional reactions and help us to take a more evolved perspective.

Before I go on, an important note: please don't attempt to use any of the techniques I'm sharing here on trauma memories unless advised to do so by your therapist or doctor. 

How to write

Let me break down the practice of expressive writing with some simple dos and don'ts so you can give this a try. 

1. Pleeeease don't worry about "quality"

First of all, what we're talking about here is communication at its freest. This practice pays no regard to writing conventions like spelling, grammar, punctuation or style. The only rule is that the words be real, curious, emotional and, of course, expressive. So, it's important to write as if no one will ever read what you put down. You can decide to burn your writing after you're done if that's what you need to do in order that you write honestly. 

2. It's best to focus on your reaction to past events, rather than the events themselves 

While writing, most people focus on specific events: heartbreak, conflict, failure, childhood memories. But what they write is less about these events than it is about their response to them. The point is not to pinpoint why an experience was so upsetting, but to observe the ways in which you did your upset – what, specifically, did you think? Which emotions did you feel? What did you say or do while in the grip of those emotions? 

3. Repeatedly zoom out and make connections

The most effective expressive writing tends to create connections. It links events from the past and present with future projections. It explores the thoughts, feelings and behaviours that repeat over the course of our lives. This big-picture approach helps to develop a wider web of self-understanding and a deeper awareness of the meaning that we can take from our struggles, so don't be afraid of the odd tangent. In fact, the more of these, the better.

4. Get curious and make genuine self-awareness your ultimate goal 

Importantly, expressive writing is not about finding The Answers. It's not about being able to say “I do X because Y happened to me as a child,” because that can actually be quite limiting. Instead, this is more about observing the associations made by the mind as they appear on the page (or the screen; you don't have to do this on paper, obviously). When we write in this way, we simply follow the stream of consciousness as it downloads. And we do so with the intention of expanding self-awareness, rather than pigeonholing our experience. Curiosity is key.

5. Start with 20 mins of writing, for four days in a row

Some people, of course, make this kind of writing into a long-term practice, but you absolutely don't need to start with such a big, daunting goal. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of studies out there on the therapeutic benefits of expressive writing and many of these show significant effects after just four 20-minute daily sessions of writing. I suggest you start there. 

6. Pay attention to your patterns 

One of the biggest benefits of this kind of reflection is that it helps you to know your patterns. If you choose to do some writing, keep an eye out for anything – certain thoughts, feelings, behaviours or combinations of those things – that repeat themselves. Those with awareness of their patterns can learn to catch themselves mid-panic, mid-outburst or while in the grip of a destructive habit. 

More importantly, they learn how to take a step back at those times. The awareness developed by the practice of writing opens up valuable windows of opportunity, within which we can take a different action – it’s as if a lightbulb flickers on and we find ourselves thinking, “Wait. This is how I always see things under pressure.” Now, that knowledge can really help to put you back in the driving seat. 

7. Look out for the stories you tell

Similarly, ready awareness of the scripts used by our inner critics and other scared, doubtful or otherwise negative parts of the personality is invaluable. These, of course, are also a kind of pattern, and it's only when we know that a fear or doubt is a pattern can we recognise that it isn’t necessarily an accurate reflection of the present-moment reality. Without this awareness – whether we find ourselves questioning our worth, ability, likeability or anything else – our limiting stories feel like truth each and every time they crop up. We need to know our monsters in order to know that they are made of fiction.

But not just any writing will grant us these benefits. The vital tool that makes the difference between writing that harms and writing that can heal is self-distancing. 

Self-distancing – the magic that makes the difference 

Self-distancing is the ability to take a step back and create some space between yourself and your emotional experiences. There is a subtle but potent magic to this skill, which is, according to the studies, one of the most effective tools for emotion regulation because it can help you to create a sense of freedom and control even when you're exploring your most disempowering experiences. 

What it comes down to is this: 

If you write as if you’re locked into your story – as if you're reliving the more painful experiences of your life right from their centre – then you may write yourself into a place of increased rumination, anxiety, depression and the rest. 

Write from a place where you can see the bigger picture, however, and you may improve your emotional and physical health as well as making it possible to take control of negative behaviours and habits.

Learn how to self-distance in three simple steps  

I'm going to go into self-distancing – both how and why it works – in a little more detail in the next post. For now, here's a simple thought experiment to get you started: 

Step 1: Think of a recent (minor) challenge

Think of something challenging that's happened to you lately. Nothing big, though. I'm talking about a minor argument, tiny disappointment or slightly scary presentation at work. 

Step 2: Step back into that memory, as if you're there all over again, and write an account of the event

Spend one or two minutes writing a description of that experience as if you are reliving it – see what you see with your own eyes, hear what you heard all over again, feel what you felt and think what you thought. Get it all down on paper.

Step 3: Take a step back, and view the same event as if you are a fly on the wall. 

Now, take a big step back and observe that experience as if you are a fly on the wall – observe yourself reacting to the situation, and write about who you see and how that person is responding to their challenge. Again, only for a minute or two. 

When you've done that, compare the two passages. How are they different? Do they feel different? Do they pick up on different details? Please let me know in the comments. As always, I hope this helps, and if you liked this piece, stay tuned for the next one, when we’ll really delve into self-distancing.

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Thank you for reading!

We’re Hazel (ex boxer, therapist and author) and Ellie (ex psychology science writer). We left our jobs to build an interactive narrative app for self-awareness and emotion regulation (Betwixt), which you can try on Android here and on iOS here.

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