The Body Remembers the Story
Writing as a Pathway to Safety and Voice
This piece is part of an ongoing series on the vagus nerve and the writing process—how storytelling, when rooted in the body, becomes a powerful tool for regulation, self-expression, and healing.
🌀 Start with Writing with the Vagus Nerve: an introduction to the body’s role in creative safety
🌀 Then read The Wolf in the Margins: on feedback, survival states, and the nervous system
🌀 You’re here: The Body Remembers the Story
🌀 Coming soon: Your Voice Is a Portal
Dear ones,
In my corporate publishing days, I gave a lot of presentations—marketing meetings packed with sales reps and executives, where I’d pitch books with bold comps and punchy talking points. I knew how to project confidence. I knew how to stay sharp and strategic, just a few inches above my body—disconnected from breath, from feeling, from myself. It was a kind of performance—effective, even exciting at times. But it wasn’t the same as presence.
Years later, I read a personal piece aloud in a writing workshop. When I looked up, I was smiling, composed, and even praised. But inside, my chest had tightened. My jaw had locked. I couldn’t quite breathe. Later that evening, a friend texted: That was so powerful. Thank you for your courage. But my body hadn’t heard it. It was still in hiding.
That moment stayed with me—not because I was ashamed, but because I realized something vital: Even when the words are strong, even when the room is kind, the body has its own timeline for safety.
Something different happens when we’re not selling an idea, but sharing a story. Especially one that’s still tender. And if we don’t tend to it, the act of sharing can feel more like a threat than a liberation.
It made me wonder: How often do we write something brave and then abandon ourselves in the aftermath?
How many times has our body gone into defense mode—locking down, tensing up, bracing for feedback, or fawning and taking on people pleasing —even when nothing dangerous is happening?
The truth is that writing isn’t just a mental exercise.
It’s a full-body experience.
And if we want to write sustainably—especially about things that matter—we need to bring the body with us.
That’s where the vagus nerve comes in.
The Vagus Nerve: Your Pathway to Safety and Voice
The vagus nerve is the longest cranial nerve in the body. It runs from the brainstem through the face, heart, lungs, and gut—touching nearly every part of us involved in expression, breath, and feeling.
It governs the parasympathetic nervous system—what’s sometimes called “rest and digest.” This is the state where your body knows it’s safe. Where it can soften. Where it can tell the truth.
When we activate the vagus nerve, we invite our body out of survival mode and into connection. We let the system know: You don’t have to fight. You don’t have to flee. You can stay.
And that, dear ones, is the state from which the most meaningful writing arises.
Not because it’s easy. But because the body is supported enough to hold what’s hard.
Writing from this place doesn’t mean you avoid emotional truths. It means you’re anchored enough to meet them with care. That’s the difference between retraumatization and revelation.
Writing as a Vagal Practice
A reflective writing practice—especially when done in rhythm, ritual, and relationship—can gently tone and activate the vagus nerve.
This is something we do every week in our Narrative Healing Labs. It’s quiet work. Brave work. Embodied work.
Here’s what that might look like:
Your breath slows as you settle into writing. Your shoulders drop. Your nervous system takes a deep exhale: I can be here.
Tears or laughter arise as you write. This isn’t drama—it’s release. Your body is letting go of what it’s been holding.
Your voice—especially when reading aloud—stimulates the vagus nerve through the vocal cords, saying: I exist. I matter. I can speak and still feel safe.
Story emerges from chaos. You name something that once felt unspeakable. You shape it. You give it a beginning, a middle, an end. You send your body the message: I survived. And I’m the one holding the pen now.
Even the shape of a writing prompt can soothe the nervous system. Structure and rhythm become safety.
A Bit of Science
Dr. Stephen Porges, who developed Polyvagal Theory, teaches that the nervous system is constantly scanning for cues of danger or connection. This means your body decides whether it’s safe to write the truth—long before your mind does. This process—called neuroception—is unconscious but deeply powerful.
Writing in a safe, loving container—like a journal, a circle, or even a quiet morning ritual—sends a powerful signal to the body: You are safe. You can stay with yourself. You can tell the truth.
Dr. James Pennebaker’s research echoes this. His studies found that expressive writing improves immune function, reduces anxiety, and helps people process trauma.
It’s not that healing stifles creativity—it deepens it.
A Prompt to Try
Before you begin, try this:
Place one hand on your heart and one on your belly
Inhale gently for 4 counts
Exhale slowly for 6
Repeat this three times
Then write for 10 minutes using one of the following:
A moment I felt safe in my body was…
If my nervous system could speak, it would say…
The last time I ignored what my body needed…
What helps your body know it’s safe to speak?
Let your words be tender and unedited. Let them come from the body, not the brain. Not perfect, but real.
💖 Why This Matters
Because too many of us have been taught to push through. To write from the neck up. To tell the story without checking if our breath is still with us.
But your story lives in your cells. And your body, when held with care, will guide you back to it.
This is the heart of Narrative Healing. This is how we write—not just to express, but to remember. Not just to survive, but to reclaim joy.
And when we do, the story doesn’t just live on the page—it lives more freely in us.
More soon.
With love,
Lisa
✨ Come Write with Us
If your nervous system wants to keep exploring, I’d love to welcome you into our Narrative Healing community—a space where we move from breath to story, together.
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✔️ Weekly Narrative Healing letters and writing prompts
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✔️ A growing archive of nervous system-informed writing tools and reflections
This is where the practice deepens—where writing becomes not just expression, but a return to yourself.
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