On Writing Through the Pain (Even When It Sucks)
Writing about your life will hurt sometimes. Not every chapter, of course. Some stories will make you laugh out loud as you write them. Others will make you proud.
But there will be moments—memories, flashbacks, things you’ve tried to tuck away in the attic of your brain—that will come roaring back when you sit down to write. And suddenly your hands are frozen over the keyboard, or you’re crying in the shower, wondering why you even started this stupid book in the first place.
Here’s what I want you to know: That moment matters more than almost anything else.
Because what you do with the pain determines whether this is a journaling exercise or an honest reckoning. Whether you skim the surface or finally set yourself free.
Why put myself through that hell over again, you may be thinking.
Because your story deserves honesty.
Because the parts you really want to skip are the parts someone else needs to hear.
Because clarity only comes when you name the thing that hurt you… not just hint at it and hope people read between the lines.
And maybe most of all: Because you need to hear your own truth in your own words. Not filtered. Not smoothed out. Not buried in someone else’s version of what happened.
Even if you never show it to a soul, writing through the pain is how you loosen its grip on you.
But it’s NOT easy. I know this. So, let’s talk about how to keep going when you’d rather slam the laptop shut and reorganize your underwear drawer.
How to Write When It Hurts (Without Falling Apart)
1. Write in layers. You don’t have to do a deep emotional excavation on the first draft. Start with the facts: what happened, who was there, what you remember. Then come back later and add how it felt. Writing this way creates distance and allows you to process what happened without drowning in it.
2. Use a timer or word count. Set a timer for 10 minutes. Or tell yourself you only need to write 200 words. Give yourself a finish line. You can always keep going… but you don’t have to. Showing up in small bursts still counts.
3. Take care of your body. Drink water. Cry if you need to. Stretch. Shake it out. Go outside. It’s not “just writing;” your nervous system is along for the ride, and it deserves a little support too.
4. Try writing letters or dialogues. Instead of writing “about” the pain, try writing to it. Write a letter to the person who hurt you, your younger self, or the part of you that survived. It’s less clinical, more personal, and can be more healing.
5. Balance it with the good stuff. If you just wrote about something heavy, follow it with a memory that made you feel strong, safe, or ridiculous. I mean, seriously, this is not supposed to be a trauma dump! You’re telling a full, nuanced story. Let joy live here, too.
6. Remember: no one needs to read this yet. This is what helped me the most when writing my own story. You don’t have to make it “good.” You don’t have to make it readable. You just have to get it out. Editing comes later.
My Final Thoughts on This Messy Subject
I guess if I were sitting across from you, I’d gently remind you that this is a process, and it takes as long as it takes. Don’t be hard on yourself… but do get started.
And you really don’t have to bleed on the page (but you might get that page wet with tears, and that’s okay).
You’ve already survived the hard part. Writing about it doesn’t make it worse; it makes it real. And real is where healing begins.
So write the hard thing. I’ll be right here when you come up for air.
