The healing nature of telling stories

We thrive on story-telling. It is perhaps the most fundamental aspect of

being human. As history shows, when a culture's stories are silenced, or are taken from them, or replaced by lies, the entire culture suffers. So, what about individuals? What about one person's story?

When we begin as writers, much of the time we begin with imitation. Like my bio mentions, the first play I ever wrote was a complete rip off of a play I had just seen at the age of eleven. The play was Barefoot In The Park, a very New York-centred comedy written by a New York-centred playwright named Neil Simon. I'm not quite sure I knew (as an eleven-year-old) what I was actually going to do with this, but I did it anyway, including stealing direct lines from the play and getting my classmates to say them. But it's not just children who imitate when they begin to write. We do it as young adults and adults as well. It is completely natural to be searching for a voice before you find your own. When I taught creative writing in high school I would ask my 16 and 17 year old students to write a poem - something a little personal or important to them. Initially, I would give them no rules or guidance - just write. At first it was like they were back in the eighth grade - perhaps the last time anyone had asked them to write a poem. Most of them wrote "moon in June" sort of stuff. It all rhymed and was "emotional" but said very little about them. It was imitating what they knew and what they imagined a poem was like.

"But you're teenagers now," I'd say. "Your lives are suddenly in tumult. You're afraid, anxious, joyous, secretive - so many emotions are running rough-shod through you. Go looking for that person inside you and write about that. That's your voice. And ultimately, the only thing that separates you from the next writer - is you."

“The only thing that separates you from the next writer - is you.”

Narrative Healing

But I'm not working with high school kids here at the hospital. I'm working with adults; most of them patients; many of whom have undergone or are undergoing serious health issues. Much of the time, they're not just in need of physical healing. They need emotional, mental, and spiritual care as well. And, just as important, they need a voice. When someone is admitted into a hospital, it's easy for them to quickly become a bed number, or little more than a record of the their symptoms. I can't tell you how many times I've spoken to a patient who just wants "to be heard." But, I think, they are being heard, aren't they? Nurses, doctors, and others will be civil, pleasant, and sometimes even funny. They will ask how the patient is and what they need and then they'll take care of it or look into it. Isn't that enough? For the patient it's not. There's a narrative - a story - a "history" outside of the charted clinical one. It's connected to the clinical story but is not one that is often heard. And it's not about caring or not caring on the part of the health care practitioner, it's about time, priorities, training.

But we must be able to tell our story.

We must.

It is the first step towards true healing.

As the writer-in-residence at St. Paul's, my job is to hear these patients and their true voice and perhaps, help them tell their story or, in some way, hear their voice.

"And, as importantly, they need a voice."

This may be through something as simple as listening and spending time with someone. Many times I have started a conversation with a patient who has an immense story to tell where the exchange goes something like this:

"Should we start writing this story? Can I help you write this down?"

"No. That's ok. I'd just like to talk about it."

Of course there's also this exchange:

"Can you help me write a book? I think my life would make a good book."

"Well, let's just start by talking about it."

That's where it starts. Finding a way to listen. One word, sentence, story at a time.

As so many have said:

We make the path by walking.

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