How Writing Can Support Mental Health


May is Mental Health Awareness Month

Let’s start with a truth I hold deep in my bones:

You don’t have to be “healed” to start writing. You just have to be willing.

As we acknowledge Mental Health Awareness Month this May, I want to speak from the heart—especially to those of you inching your way toward telling your story. Maybe you’ve carried a lifetime of experiences in silence. Maybe you’ve started and stopped, unsure if your words are worth writing down. Maybe you’ve wondered if telling the truth about what you’ve lived through would be too much—for you or for others.

I get it. Writing a memoir or even journaling your truth isn’t always a joyride. It can crack you open. It can stir old dust and raise new questions.

But here’s the thing: it can also save you.

No, I’m not a therapist. This isn’t a prescription or a diagnosis or a cure. Mental health issues deserve care from qualified professionals. But as someone who has witnessed the transformational power of storytelling—personally and in the lives of the writers I teach—I believe writing can be a lifeline. A tool. A release. A powerful form of self-respect and reflection.

The Power of the Pen: Why Writing Helps

When you write, you step outside yourself and look at your story with new eyes. You begin to process what’s happened, rather than just carry it. You start to name the pain, the triumph, the confusion, the beauty—and in doing so, you own your narrative.

Writing gives shape to what once felt shapeless.

Think of it like this: when you write about something painful, you don’t make it disappear—but you do build a container for it. You create boundaries. You say, “This happened, but it’s not the only thing that defines me.”

That’s mental clarity. That’s emotional grounding.

That’s healing.

Research Backs It Up

Studies on expressive writing have shown that writing about emotionally charged experiences can lead to improved mood, lower stress, and even better immune function. (Wild, right?) It’s not magic—it’s just your mind making meaning and your body exhaling the weight of what you've held in.

It’s your story becoming less of a burden and more of a bridge.

Writing Is a Form of Self-Honor

One of the greatest gifts writing offers is self-witnessing—saying, “I see you” to the parts of yourself that may have felt forgotten or dismissed.

Each sentence is a mirror. Each paragraph a hand on your shoulder.

Even when the writing is messy… especially when the writing is messy… you are showing up for yourself. You are practicing courage. And you are validating your truth in a world that doesn’t always do that for you.

Sharing Is Optional—But Powerful

Not everyone wants to share their writing. That’s okay. Private journaling can be just as powerful as publishing a memoir.

But if you do feel called to share your story—whether through a book, a blog, or a conversation with a friend—it can be a way of saying, “This is who I am. This is what I’ve survived. This is what I’ve learned.”

It’s a way to light the path for others—and to remind yourself that your story is part of something bigger.

Permission to Begin

If your brain has been busy whispering:

  • “I don’t know how to start.”

  • “What if it’s too painful?”

  • “What if I’m not a real writer?”

I want to counter that with this:

  • Start with a sentence.

  • Write what you can, when you can.

  • Trust that your voice will meet you on the page.

You don’t have to write it all today. But you can write smething.

You can begin again.

And in doing so, you honor not just the past you’ve lived through—but the future you’re still shaping.

Writing won’t fix everything. But it will hold space for you while you do the work.
And sometimes, that’s all we need to take the next brave step.

Want a gentle nudge to get started?
Join my free challenge, Memoir in Minutes, which begins May 26. For 5 days, I’ll walk you through 10-minute actions that can change the way you view writing memoir, and will inspire you to get organized to write! Learn more and save your spot HERE.

Kerry Kriseman