Pt. 5 - The Safety of the Blank Page
This practice is about lowering the stakes of writing as much as possible. The goal is simply to connect a feeling to a word on a page. You will need a piece of paper and a pen, or a blank digital document.
Dear Friend,
I want to take a moment to talk about the process of writing about difficult experiences. While writing about our pain can be an incredibly powerful tool for understanding and healing, it's also true that it can sometimes feel overwhelming. Please know that our absolute first priority here is your emotional and psychological safety as you undertake this work.
You are the expert on your own experience, and we encourage you to trust your own limits completely. If a particular topic feels too big or too raw to approach right now, please give yourself permission to choose something smaller. The goal is to gently build capacity over time, not to force a breakthrough. It might be helpful to start with a frustration that you would rate as only a 2 on a 1-10 scale of intensity.
We will be guided by a principle from trauma care called "titration." This simply means touching into challenging memories or sensations in small, manageable doses, and then consciously returning to a place where you feel safe and resourced. To practice this, we'll find that short writing periods are often more beneficial than long ones, allowing us to process without becoming overwhelmed.
Finally, please remember that the goal of this writing is honesty, not artistry. You are not trying to create a beautiful psalm or a perfect piece of prose; you are simply giving an honest voice to your experience. Messy, fragmented, and incomplete writing is not only welcome but expected. There are no grammar rules to follow here—just the courageous act of putting your truth onto the page, which is the most acceptable form of lament.
—The Speak Out Team
Why Write it Down?
The act of writing is different from thinking or speaking. It slows us down. It makes our abstract feelings a little more concrete. For many of us, a private journal is the first and only place where we can be completely, brutally honest without fear of judgment, correction, or someone else's discomfort.
When you write down words like "heavy," "worn," or "stuck," you are speaking the same ancient language as the psalmists. They didn't hold back. They wrote of being "poured out like water," their hearts melted "like wax" (Psalm 22:14). They wrote of being in "the depths of the pit, in the regions dark and deep" (Psalm 88:6). Your honest words on the page place you in this sacred tradition of telling the truth before God.
When trauma happens, the language center of our brain can sometimes go "offline." It can be incredibly difficult to put words to our experience. Writing gives us a gentle way to re-engage that process at our own pace. You don't have to say it out loud; you can just let it exist on the page. Your journal can be a sanctuary where you tell the truth to yourself and to God. It can be a place to meet God before you're ready to talk to anyone else.
the First Words
This practice is about lowering the stakes of writing as much as possible. The goal is simply to connect a feeling to a word on a page. You will need a piece of paper and a pen, or a blank digital document.
Ground Yourself: Before you begin, take a moment to feel your feet on the floor. Notice your breath. Remind yourself that you are here, in this room, in the present moment.
Choose a Feeling: Gently bring to mind a small source of frustration, disappointment, or sadness from your day or week. (e.g., "I'm tired," "That comment hurt," "I'm worried about...")
Brainstorm Single Words: Set a timer for just three minutes. In that time, simply write down single words or very short phrases associated with that feeling. The psalmists did this too, using raw, visceral words to describe their internal state. They spoke of being "feeble and crushed," and of groaning from the "tumult" of their hearts (Psalm 38:8). Don't write sentences. Just let the words flow.
If you're feeling tired, you might write: heavy, worn, foggy, thin, lead, slow, ache...
If you're frustrated, you might write: stuck, angry, tight, hot, buzzing, unfair, stop...
Just Notice: When the timer goes off, stop writing. Look at the words on the page. You don't need to analyze them. Simply notice them as a true expression of your experience—your own personal psalm of the heart. Take another deep breath and release them. You can fold the paper or close the document as a way of closing the practice.
Reflections
What was the experience of putting words on the page without the pressure of forming sentences?
Did you notice any internal "critic" or voice that wanted to judge your words or your feelings?
How does the idea of a journal as a "safe" or "sacred" space land with you?