The storms of life are common to all of us. Whether the storm is mild or furious, the winds straight-line or spiraling wildly, the rain falling in torrents or hail thrashing everything around us, they can be intimidating. I know one woman who is so traumatized by past weather that if there is even a hint of rain coming, she refuses to go out.
And yet, storms can also bring beauty. Thunderheads can billow upwards of tens of thousands of feet. Snow can blanket the earth with pure tranquility. And the transparent hues in large overarching rainbows can inspire awe – and even sometimes stop traffic.
Then there are the in-between stages like when we’re unsure if the sun is starting to break through the clouds or just teasing us. Or when the meteorologist forecasts partly cloudy weather or a wintery mix of ice and snow.
I am especially fond of the aftermath of storms. I’m guessing you are too. You know, the day after the bad storm where it’s time to go out in the sunshine again or put on a coat, hat, and gloves to enjoy sledding.
It feels “new” after a storm has passed. Though there may be a mess of downed tree branches or worse to clean up, the relief of being able to move forward again can be exhilarating!
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What has been the biggest “storm” in your life? First, think about the weather. Once you have that in mind, turn your thoughts to stormy experiences. Was it a bad break-up of a relationship? The angst of losing a job? Did scenes of bloodshed torment you? Were you diagnosed with a serious or terminal illness? The loss of a spouse or loved one?
Many of life’s storms are overwhelming when they first hit. And some continue to be intense as they progress through all the subsequent stages. This is why it can be beneficial to process the storm or experience in small pieces.
Such a small piece might be the moment you learned your spouse was terminally ill. Writing about that will be hard, but not nearly as hard as writing about all the things that happened afterward in one sitting. The same might apply to losing your spouse when it happens. The moment they pass is incredibly hard. But the grief that comes up thereafter as you spend holidays without them and learn to live alone again may last for quite some time. To write everything isn’t possible in one sitting without re-traumatizing yourself. You don’t want to do that. Believe me. And I don’t want that for you either. So, writing in small chunks is advisable.
Ultimately the winds will slow down, the sun will begin to break through, and the rain will stop falling. You will be able to breathe more easily, start to make decisions about the future, and then move forward step-by-step.
The aftermath of the storm likely took – or will take – some time to experience. To write about it all at once would be difficult. So, I want to encourage you to think about–and if you choose to–write about the various stages of your traumatic experience in small bite-size chunks. Start with writing about how your life was before the experience. Then put your pen down for a while. Maybe for a few days or weeks. Then when you feel ready, write about the next piece – the day the storm hit. And then put your pen down.
Writing in small chunks will allow you time for reflection and–even more importantly–self-care. As you ponder after writing, insights may come to you. These epiphanies are important and should be recorded so you can remember them and thank the Lord for them. New insights into a tough situation can help us reframe our thinking about what happened. And reframing can sometimes help us move forward more confidently.
Your feelings as you wrote should also be recorded. Being vulnerable enough to put feelings on paper is hard for some of us. I am one of those who can write what happened in minute detail. But I get lost in the details and never get around to writing about how I feel about what happened.
Before you set your pen down after writing, evaluate whether you disclosed what you felt in your heart and soul. If you can find the words to describe those feelings, you are further down the road in your healing. But if you struggle to name your feelings, it could be an indication that your healing journey has yet to begin.
This may be a time to work with a professional counselor who can help you process your feelings – or to just start to recognize what they were. Identifying feelings and writing about them helps to get them to the surface so that they are not hiding deep within us causing illness, disease, or even worse.
The impact of feelings on physical and mental health has been well-documented. In the Resource section of WritingtoHealAcademy.com you will find some of what has been discovered and written. Turning loose old negative feelings or bringing to the surface previously suppressed feelings is a way to reduce their impact on your body, soul, and spirit. And I want that for you. I want it for you because I know from personal experience what a relief it is to let go of difficult feelings and emotions and how things improve when you do.
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Healing from the storms of life is a process. Cleaning up in the aftermath of a storm can take time, patience, and creativity. But once that milestone is behind us, we can start to look forward with hope for our future. We can rejoice that the storm didn’t last forever and that we lived through it.
As you write about the various stages of your storm, you will be better able to process the changes in your life. More importantly, you will connect more deeply with Jesus as you see his hand in all that has happened.
This, my friends, is the journey of writing to heal from trauma. It is why the storm metaphor is the basis for the masterclass Journaling with Jesus: Writing to Heal from Trauma. It’s not a masterclass experience that will leave you in the storm. That is not Jesus’ intent, nor is it ours. There is light ahead for you. And Jesus, the Master Healer and source of all light will lead you to it.