Reclaiming Your Narrative

Narrative therapy is a therapeutic approach that treats people as the experts on their own lives and views problems as separate from the person experiencing them. Rather than seeing yourself as "a traumatized veteran" or "an MST survivor," narrative therapy helps you see yourself as a person with a rich, complex story — one that includes trauma but is not defined by it.

One of the core practices of narrative therapy is "externalizing" the problem — separating the problem from your identity. Instead of "I am broken," the question becomes "How has trauma affected my life, and what do I want to do about that?" This shift from identity to narrative creates space for agency.

Narrative therapy also involves identifying "unique outcomes" — moments when the problem did not win, when you acted in ways that reflect your values and strengths even in the midst of difficulty. These moments are the seeds of an alternative story — one that is also true, and that you may not have been telling yourself.

Writing about traumatic experiences has been shown in research to reduce PTSD symptoms, improve physical health, and support emotional processing. But journaling is not just about writing about the trauma — it is about writing your way toward meaning, understanding, and a new relationship with your own story.

Expressive writing — writing freely about your deepest thoughts and feelings without editing or censoring — is the form of journaling with the strongest research support. Set a timer for 15 to 20 minutes and write without stopping. Do not worry about grammar, coherence, or what anyone else would think. Just write.

If writing about the trauma directly feels too activating, try writing about your strengths, your values, or a time when you overcame something difficult. You can approach your story from many angles — you do not have to start at the hardest part.

Journaling is a private practice. Your journal is for you. You never have to share it with anyone. That privacy is part of what makes it safe.

The language we use to describe ourselves shapes how we experience ourselves. "Victim" and "survivor" are both accurate descriptors of someone who has experienced MST — but they carry different implications for identity and agency.

"Victim" emphasizes what was done to you — the harm, the powerlessness, the loss. It is an accurate description of a moment in time. But when "victim" becomes a permanent identity, it can make it harder to access your own agency and strength.

"Survivor" emphasizes that you are still here — that you endured something that could have destroyed you and you are still standing. It is also an accurate description. And it leaves room for growth, for change, for a future that is not defined by what happened.

Neither label is wrong. You get to choose what language feels true and useful for you, and you get to change it as you change. What matters is that your identity is not permanently fixed by what was done to you.

Sharing your story can be a powerful part of healing — but it can also be re-traumatizing if done without adequate support and preparation. There is no obligation to share your story. Healing does not require public disclosure.

If you choose to share your story, consider: Who are you sharing with, and why? Is this person or context safe? Are you sharing from a place of relative stability, or from a place of acute distress? Do you have support in place for after you share?

Sharing with a therapist, a trusted friend, or a peer support group is different from sharing publicly. Each context has different risks and benefits. Start with the safest context and build from there.

If you want to share your story publicly — through advocacy, writing, speaking, or other means — that can be a powerful form of meaning-making. But it is not a requirement for healing, and it is not something to rush. Your story is yours. You share it on your terms, when you are ready.