Late at night, a student sits at her desk while the soft glow of a laptop screen casts shadows across the room. Outside, the city street is quiet, but inside, her mind is racing. Fingers hover over the keyboard and then begin typing—slowly at first, then with a growing urgency. The assignment is an expressive writing exercise for her university course on the relationship between storytelling and healing. After reading others’ stories about trauma, obsessive-compulsive disorder, cancer, epilepsy, and more, the student sits alone with her own stories. In the stillness of her room, the student writes freely, pouring thoughts onto the screen. She writes anonymously, and that freedom unlocks something—emotions begin to surface, words flow, and the page becomes a safe space.

In this medical humanities course on storytelling and healing, students do not just study illness and trauma from a distance—they dive into their own emotional landscapes, using writing as both a mirror and a balm. Fashioning my assignments after James W. Pennebaker and John Frank Evans’ work in Expressive Writing: Words That Heal, I asked students to write four expressive........

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