How I found my voice again: The Transformative Power of Writing

So much of me seemed to fall away after the onset of chronic pain, and for a while, writing was one of them.  I want to share the journey from feeling voiceless to finally returning to myself through writing.

I’ve loved creative writing for as long as I can remember. Short stories and poems have been a favorite pastime of mine, often coming in phases or bursts of inspiration out of the blue. Expressive writing, such as journaling, is also something I’ve dipped into over the decades. I filled journals with thoughts and meditations on several topics, feelings, and experiences.

However, since the onset of pain in 2016, I suddenly encountered an obstacle with writing that revealed something deeply buried within me, something that needed my attention.

There was much in my journey—both with the medical community and through the medical leave and long-term disability process—that left me feeling like my voice didn’t matter. My expression of my own experience, physically and otherwise, seemed fully negated and minimized, and it was incredibly dehumanizing. I had even been instructed at times to let others do the talking on my behalf, and I wasn’t to ask any questions. If you’ve shared these experiences—which I think many of you have—you know what I’m talking about.

Throughout this time, I often sat down to write about what I was going through solely for my own benefit, mainly to get it out of my mind. I was stunned to notice that every time I attempted this, literally nothing happened. It was as if my voice had been so muted that I couldn’t even express my thoughts to myself. It felt devastating to observe this happening, and I didn’t know what I could do about it.

What did seem clear to me is that an old voice kept whispering from an internal space: "No one cares what you have to say." It must have come from somewhere, this message that kept repeating itself, and I realized that this deeply internalized belief was what I needed to explore before I could express myself in any meaningful or fruitful way.

Part of the inner work involved in navigating chronic pain includes a deep dive into old belief systems that linger within us—and this was certainly a big one for me. When I say that statement aloud to myself, I can, on a rational level, know that it isn’t really true. The voice that whispered it wasn’t mine... it came from a combination of messages from old, toxic relationships and cultural influences, and those recent experiences had further validated that feeling within me.

Nonetheless, the feeling had become a solid belief that I had to reckon with now, because it definitely wasn’t serving me in any positive way to uphold it. The time to redesign and reclaim our lives is now, and this old phrase simply had to go. This realization also made me see that I likely had other embedded, hindering beliefs that would need examining as time went on.

After some time spent unpeeling the layers of this internalized statement of non-worth, I started noticing more and more instances that completely countered it. I observed the relationships in my current life and the various things I participated in, and I realized that my words, opinions, and contributions did matter, and they were valued.

But even more importantly, I began to ask myself a new question:
How can I better value what I have to say?
How can I stand more firmly in the belief that my presence, and what I have to offer, does matter?

Before long, the writing was pouring out of me. I began writing my thoughts down onto documents on my computer, which developed into a book I’m almost done editing, which then became the impetus for The WordWise Project. I write to express myself and I write to uplift and inspire others in similar situations.

I’ve been writing about the experience with medical leave and disability, writing for the sake of advocacy, and writing just for the fun of it. I look back now and am fully aware that the obstacle I once thought would be the end of my writing forever was actually an opportunity—an invitation to heal—and I’m so glad I took it.

In an earlier edition, I wrote about the practice of artistic endeavors and how beneficial it can be to release expectations of a particular outcome. Much is the same with the practice of creative and expressive writing, and I’m certainly a living example of that.

I could not have foreseen what would come from having sat down to write a few thoughts on my laptop a year or so ago. It’s not always about what we set out to do.
What is increasingly clear to me is the magic of the mystery, of what might emerge from the first step into the act of creation itself. What emerges can be such a surprise.

I have such reverent regard for the creative aspects of our human experience, and this is something I recommend to others living with chronic pain.
There is so much within us that wants to be seen and acknowledged, and doing so might offer you peace and sovereignty as you move forward.

I encourage you to explore the hidden surprises that are just waiting for you there.
Whether it’s journaling, storytelling, poetry, or another writing focus, I hope you find something magical, mysterious, and wonderful there.

I believe in you.
And here’s something else I believe: Your voice matters too. I promise. ❤

Much love,
  Julie 🤍

• chronic pain self-awareness writing transformation finding your voice mindfulness resilience self-empowerment