"Write about it" is advice almost everyone gets after a bad stretch. Almost nobody explains how. So people go one of two ways. Some open a notebook, write the worst call of their career in full detail at midnight, and feel worse for days. Others never start, because a blank page feels like one more thing they're failing at.
There's a middle way. Writing can help, and there's decent research behind it. But it works best when it's structured, time-limited and under your control. Here's how to do it without tearing yourself open.
What the research actually says
Most of the evidence comes from "expressive writing", a method developed by psychologist James Pennebaker and studied for decades. In a widely cited review, Baikie and Wilhelm (2005) describe the standard approach: write for about 15 to 20 minutes, over three to five sessions, about your deepest thoughts and feelings about a difficult experience. Across many studies, people who did this showed modest improvements in mood and some health measures over the following months.
Four details from that review matter a lot for people in service:
- It often feels worse before it feels better. A short-term rise in distress right after writing is common. That doesn't mean you're doing it wrong.
- Facts plus feelings beat feelings alone. Writing about both what happened and how it affected you worked better than just venting emotion.
- You set the limits. People in the studies could stop whenever they chose, and could decide how close to get to the hardest material.
- It isn't a treatment for PTSD. The authors are clear that expressive writing doesn't replace professional care. They note that in a small study of veterans with PTSD, and in some survivors of childhood abuse, it didn't help and could make things worse. If you have heavy trauma history, go carefully and involve a clinician if you can.
Set it up so it's safe to start
Pick a container. Choose a set time and place, with a timer. Fifteen minutes is plenty. When the timer goes, you stop, even mid-sentence.
Don't do it right before bed if your sleep is already fragile. Late afternoon or after a shower works better for many shift workers.
Plan your exit. Before you start, decide what you'll do right after: a walk, cold water on your face, the dog, a coffee with someone. Writing opens things. Have a way to close them.
Keep it private. Use a notebook that stays at home, or a file that isn't on a work device. You'll write more honestly if you know nobody's reading over your shoulder, and work systems are rarely private.
Start at the edges, not the centre
You don't have to begin with the worst thing. In fact, it's usually better not to. Try these on-ramps for the first week:
- "Right now my body feels…": a straight physical check-in. Where's the tension, how did you sleep, what's your energy like?
- "The part of the shift I keep coming back to is…": not the whole call, just the piece that's sticking.
- "What I didn't say out loud today was…"
- "Something that went right today, even if it was small, was…"
Once that feels manageable, you can move closer in. Write what happened in plain, factual sentences, then what it meant to you and how it's affecting you now. If you start to feel like you're back there, with your heart racing, the scene too vivid and the room fading, stop. Look around, name five things you can see, put your feet on the floor, and close the notebook. You can come back another day.
A simple after-shift debrief
Many responders find a short, repeatable format easier than free writing. Try this after a hard shift:
- The call: one or two lines, no gore.
- The moment: the specific image, sound or decision that's sticking.
- The story I'm telling myself: for example, "I should have been faster."
- What a trusted partner would say about that story.
- What I need tonight: sleep, food, company or quiet.
Over a few weeks, you'll start to see patterns: which kinds of calls stay with you, what helps you settle, what makes it worse. That information is worth bringing to a peer supporter or a clinician.
Signs to stop and get more support
Journaling is a tool, not a test. Put it down and reach out if writing consistently:
- leaves you more distressed for days afterwards
- triggers flashbacks or long stretches of feeling numb or unreal
- brings up thoughts of suicide or self-harm
- stirs up urges to drink to get through it
If thoughts of suicide come up, call or text 988. If you're in immediate danger, call 911.
If you'd rather not start from a blank page
A blank page is where most people stall. That's why we built the Through The Fire 30-Day Journal. Each day gives you a few honest minutes with a shift-work debrief page, prompts for difficult exposures, and a physical and mental check-in. A weekly reflection lets you see what's shifting. It's paced so you're never asked to go further than you're ready to.
If you want to understand why the job affects your sleep, your temper and your relationships in the first place, the Survival Guide is a short companion read. You can also try the first week of the journal free on our journal page.
Write a little, stop on time, and be decent to yourself about whatever comes out. The point isn't perfect pages. The point is getting some of it out of your head and somewhere you can look at it.
— Through the Fire
Sources
- Emotional and physical health benefits of expressive writing (Baikie & Wilhelm, 2005), Advances in Psychiatric Treatment 11(5), Cambridge University Press.
This article is general information from people with lived experience, not medical advice. If you're struggling, talk to a qualified health professional.
