GriefPerspectives | The Power of Writing

We have long recognized the power of journaling for bereaved people. Twenty years ago, the Encyclopedia of Life Writing included an article on the role of writing through bereavement as an autobiographical bereavement tool and catalogs a couple of dozen famous autobiographical works that include—or are even primarily focused on—the author’s experience with loss. Well-known classics like Robert Graves’ Goodbye to All That, C.S. Lewis’ A Grief Observed and Elie Wiesel’s Night are themselves reflections of the authors’ experiences with loss. Grief shows up in the pages of many other classic works, however, as we find the authors trying to cope with unimaginable sorrow. Some have suggested that part of Augustine’s at-times torturous Confessions revolves around disappointment with himself that he grieves when he believes he should have experienced hope (Pearson, 2001). Fortunately, most contemporary people of faith would not see bereavement and hope as mutually exclusive.
Pearson (2001) goes on to explain, “Driven by the modern preoccupation with authenticity, much recent life writing on bereavement displays a frankness about the deceased and the survivor's emotions that would have shocked an earlier readership. The influence of a psychotherapeutic ethic of truth to one's innermost feelings is especially marked in mid-life memoirs of the death of a parent. Self-exploration is as much the goal here as memorialization of the dead; biographic and autobiographic impulses conjoin under the stimulus of parental death…(n.p.). My colleagues who have taught personal autobiography classes in university senior adult extension programs attest to the presence of grief autobiography in these writings, often noting that a recent death was what drove some of their class participants to the course in the first place.
Why does this kind of autobiographical writing seem to help bereaved people? In the first place, if kept contemporaneously with the events, these recollections provide a personal travelogue of the bereavement experience. With bereaved patients, I have often prescribed the use of a journal, asking them to bring their journal to session. It was fascinating for them to read selections from their writings a few months further on to see how far they had come. I have had the same experience in reading what I wrote in the weeks and months after the car crash I was involved in four years ago that killed my friends and caused the brain and orthopedic injuries with which I now contend. I don’t know about other bereaved people but re-reading those early entries evokes in me profound gratitude for the people who were around me and the progress I have made. Sadly, they remind me of the magnitude of loss but I happen to think that is healthy to note.
In the second place, and perhaps this is even more important, is that writing down our thoughts, feelings, misgivings, frustrations, and hurts actually help clarify them. Some bereaved individuals with whom I have worked have resisted writing about their grief, they say, because writing will make the experience real and concrete, almost as if it solidifies it in their mind and prevents any escape from it. I think that is exactly the point.
The act of writing down experiences does not fix them in memory so that they cannot be forgotten. Instead, writing them down seems more often to have an “emptying effect” of allowing us to place these often-random thoughts on paper (or computer file) so that we can tuck them away until later. If you have ever written a to-do list before going to bed, you know the power of this exercise. Writing such a list empties it from our minds so we can concentrate on other things (i.e. sleep). So it seems to be with bereavement experiences; writing them down helps physically move them from active memory to long-term memory where they can be stored for future reference and action. I liken what I write in a journal to the act of moving a file from the desktop of my computer screen to a file folder; it is there for reference when I need it but it isn’t cluttering my field of vision every time I start the computer.
There are some simple ways to get the folks for whom we care started in this activity. First, buy a book. I have used Moleskine journals for a number of years because the “classic size” measures 5 x 8.25” and includes 240 pages, often enough for a full year for me (link here). While these are a bit more pricey than some journals at around US $20 each, I like the feel of the paper and the off-white color is easier on my eyes.
Second, use a “journal starter” to get going:

Today, I felt the saddest when (or the most angry, or the most regret, or the deepest hurt…)
I wish that I could have/would have done this differently…
Today I thought most about the time we…
One of the highlights of my experience so far is…
The hardest time of the day for me seems to be…

People who are unaccustomed to reflective writing need some extra help getting started. Encourage your clients, your patients, your congregants…or yourself…to be patient, to write a little at a time, and to not forget to take time to read back over the journey at the end of a week or a month. I think we will all be grateful for the travelogue a journal provides.

Reference.
Pearson, A. (2001). Loss, bereavement, and life writing. In M. Jolly (Ed.), Encyclopedia of life writing: autobiographical and biographical forms. Routledge.

The Power of Writing by William G. Hoy

The Power of Writing
by William G. Hoy