Chapter 5: No Story Left Behind

Every soldier carries stories. Our bodies are living breathing records of what happened to us during our time in uniform, and the meaning we gave to those events.

In my experience, two things determine whether or not these stories become a constant source of stress:

1. Does the story make sense? Or is it still confusing, chaotic, or too overwhelming to fully understand?
2. Does our brain believe we could survive a similar situation today? Or is it unsure of how well we'd handle it?

When past life experiences don’t make sense, or leave our nervous system worried about what would happen if they were repeated, the memories of those events can haunt us. 

This happens because part of our brain is only focused on our survival. This “survival" part of our brain keeps a record of every intense, overwhelming, or dangerous moment we’ve gone through. It uses that information to prepare for “next time”.

After we've gone through a dangerous experience it's like our survival brain is trying to answer three questions:

• How did I end up so vulnerable or powerless?
• What did my body go through?
• What can I do to prevent that from happening again—or be more prepared next time?

Until those questions are answered, this part of our brain stays hyper alert, worrying that we could end up in the same type of situation and not survive it.

It doesn’t matter if the threat came from combat, sexual assault, public shame, moral injury, or childhood abuse. Our survival brain keeps track of it all.

This part of our brain won’t let go of the past because it’s trying to protect us. Its job is to keep us safe, and it won’t stop worrying until it understands what happened and believes we are capable of facing a similar situation successfully.

Later in this series, we’ll talk about how to rebuild confidence in our ability to handle threats similar to the ones we’ve faced.

In this chapter, our focus is on helping our nervous system understand what happened.

We’re going to write the first draft of an unhonored story from our time in service—a story that got left behind.

Embodied Redemptive Storytelling

The First 7-steps:

Step One: Get Support. 

The Department of Defense is our largest government agency for a reason: successful operations need support. The same goes for the writing we're doing here.

Have at least one person you trust—a friend, spouse, therapist, or fellow Veteran—who can have your back as you write.

This isn’t work meant to be done alone. Going into these old memories can stir up feelings like irritability, anger, sadness, or lead to overthinking, or sleeplessness, and other unwanted issues.

On the flipside, these reactions mean we're on the right track. This writing practice is designed to bring them up. If nothing surfaces, we're probably not writing about the right memories.

However we’re not meant to deal with them on our own. Writing our stories is not about us "healing ourselves” in isolation. One of the main reasons parts of us get stuck in the past is because we were never meant to “do it alone”. 

Before starting to write anything, have at least one person there as a teammate. Someone with whom you can talk with, laugh with, or just sit on the porch and do nothing with.

Having someone close by who cares and listens deeply doesn't just feel good, it's foundational. The pain and negative experiences that come from war, sexual assault, moral injury, or childhood abuse, happen inside a broken relationship—and often can only be healed in a healthy, trusted relationship.

If you struggle with this step, check Chapter 8: Two Antidotes To Pain for tips on how to move forward, and then come back to this chapter.

No matter what, you’re not alone in this. No Story Left Behind Zoom meetups will happen every month, starting in Summer 2025. We will go through these steps in a group setting. Click the blue subscribe button to get on that email list.

• Note: If you need to talk to someone immediately call this Veterans Support Hotline (staffed 24/7, call, live chat, or text) https://www.veteranscrisisline.net/

Step Two: Prepare your tools. 

For most of us that means grabbing a pen and paper.

For me, writing by hand slows things down and helps transfer the pain to the page in a way that typing can't duplicate. The emotional charge of a story sometimes feels like it’s evaporating from my body as I write.

When writing is too hard, voice-to-text can help. Speaking painful memories—especially while taking a walk outdoors—can sometimes be easier than writing them. Voice recognition technology has gotten to the point where I can speak right into a notes section on my phone with few errors.

Typing, on the other hand, often feels too disconnected, like I'm skimming across the surface of my story but not capturing the buried emotions that need to be expressed. But if the emotional distance typing provides feels right for you, go with it.

The goal is to find the method that makes it easiest to get started. Whether that's writing, typing, or voice-to-text. You can always switch methods later.

Having a "writing space" is another part of preparing. Create an environment loaded with things that make you feel cared for. I like having my dog, Trucker, nearby, my favorite snacks, and some instrumental music playing.

When I'm surrounded by these things I feel more able to go into the core of painful memories. Get comfy.

Step Three: Choose an event 

Next, pick an intense event from your past.

Choose one that feels challenging to revisit but not so overwhelming that it shuts you down. This is the “growth zone,” where transformation can happen. Start with the toughest memory you can handle.

When I'm unsure which memory to choose, I'll ask myself questions like:

• “What was the worst thing that happened to me in the military?”

• “The greatest loss I experienced was…”

• “The most intense or overwhelming moment I can remember is…”

• “A part of me isn't comfortable with how I acted when…”

• “The most awful memory I have is…”

Hold each question for a minute. If nothing surfaces, move to the next question. The first memory with a strong emotional charge is the one to write about.

If there are too many awful memories to choose from, just pick one. We’re going to bring home every story we need to, one sentence at a time.

Finally, if a non-military memory comes up and it feels important, trust your instincts and consider writing about it. Our bodies keep the score and often guide us towards the stories that need attention.

Step Four: Set a 25 minute timer. 

Next, I set a timer for 25 minutes. 

This creates a container for how long I’ll be working. Knowing there's a time limit relaxes my hyper-active mind—and short attention span—and helps me stay focused on finishing the mission.

Step Five: Let it Out.

Write about the event itself—what happened, what you felt. Focus on the feelings you had during the event, not your thoughts afterward.

When that timer starts, I don't get distracted by anything less than a true emergency. I don't think. I don't worry about spelling or grammar.

I don’t edit out anything to make it “safer”. I don't try and impress anyone.

This is the “classified” version. Where we don’t censor anything. We transfer all the darkness, agony, gore, anxiety and horror to the page. No one else will ever read this (unless we want them to). 

This one’s for us. Don’t hold anything back.

Let it out.

Step Six: Take Five (Breath Deep and Slow). 

When that timer goes off, I take a 5-minute break.

The first thing I do is I check my breathing. I let my attention sink into my lower belly, and keep it there until my breathing slows. This helps calm my nervous system after re-experiencing intense memories.

Breathing deep and slow before continuing is an easy way to make sure we don’t go too far too fast.

I also move my body for a few minutes. Any way that feels good—a walk, some pushups, playing ball with my pup, or just sitting in the sun for a moment.

Again, if at any point the discomfort feels too strong, stop for the day. Check in with whoever's got your back, and visit Chapter 8.

Step Seven: Repeat until complete.

Keep repeating Steps Four, Five, and Six until you’ve written all the details of the memory. Some memories take one session; others take several days.

The important thing is to finish the story. 

Some of our stories will be short. Thats's okay.

For example, here’s a short memory I wrote:

It still bothers me how I confiscated weapons from Iraqi civilians who hadn’t committed any crimes. I remember one guy in particular. He was just another middle-aged Iraqi local passing through our checkpoint. I used my limited Arabic to ask him if he had any weapons in his car. He shook his head no. I asked him to open the glove compartment, but he seemed confused and nervous. That’s when I noticed the barrel of a rifle sticking out from under the passenger seat. I remember thinking, "Ahh shit c’mon dude, why not just say something?" The old man didn’t seem like a threat, but I couldn’t take any chances. I pointed my rifle at him and called to my squad leader for backup. It was uncomfortable to watch him get increasingly worried because, in my gut, I didn't sense he was a 'bad guy'. He looked like a father. It didn't hit me until later that I was possibly taking away his ability to protect his family. I just couldn't risk him using that weapon against one of my team.

That’s it. That’s a complete memory. Notice that I kept most of the focus on the event as it happened—what I did, what I saw, and what I felt at the time. I didn’t include a lot of my later thoughts or judgments about the event, except for a brief mention in the first and second-to-last sentences.

For now, the goal is to focus on the moment itself: what happened, what you felt in your body, and what was happening in the environment around you.

What would have been caught on a video camera?

There will be a point in this series where we cover ways to reflect on the past events and what they meant to us. Right now, the focus is on capturing the raw memory. It’s not about blaming, or judging ourselves or anyone else. Just write what actually happened back then.

It doesn’t matter if your memory fills three pages, three paragraphs, or three sentences. Write what you can remember. Focus on the physical sensations in your body and the external facts. Try to leave out "After Action Review" type thoughts, unless they were part of the event itself.

Final Notes

Some memories need more than one 25-minute session to write out fully. Starting out, I suggest not doing more than two sessions (60 minutes total) a day.

Why? Writing for 30-60 minutes, in ways similar to what we're doing here, has been shown in repeated studies to help with post-traumatic stress. The VA website has articles like this one summarizing these findings.

Also, opening up old wounds too fast can lead to overthinking. Our minds and bodies need rest to process what comes up. Rest is key. Sleep is where our subconscious digests these experiences.

There’s a difference between wallowing in pain and productive grieving. I learned this the hard way. Feeling old pain wasn’t helpful until I knew how to manage it. What made the difference was allowing the past hurts to be fully felt at a pace I could handle. This kind of writing is one way we can revisit intense memories and digest them without overwhelming ourselves.

Writing like this isn’t the only way to work through past trauma, but it’s a great starting point. It's the first technique we’re exploring for a reason. Having a complete story about a tough experience from our past creates the most helpful foundation I know of for all other kinds of healing. And it’s simple, free, and something we can do almost anywhere.

With that freedom, staying focused can be challenging. The desire to distract ourselves will come up. I can’t tell you how often I’ve suddenly needed to clean the house, check the news, or organize my emails, right before I'm supposed to be sitting down to write. Don’t freak out if this happens to you too, it’s natural. It’s just our brain trying to avoid discomfort.

Take a breath and remind yourself—it’s only 25 minutes. Even if all we can do is sit quietly for that time, holding the intention to write, we're making progress. Every session is a step closer. Even if we can't write a word, we're building the habit of showing up. Over time, these small efforts shift how we carry the past.

To recap: 

1. Get Support

2. Prepare Your Tools

3. Choose an Event

4. Set a 25-Minute Timer

5. Let it Out

6. Take Five (Breathe Deep and Slow)

7. Repeat Until Complete

Start now, with Step One. Lean on your support. Write about the most stressful event you can handle with as much detail as possible. Focus on what happened, not the thoughts and feelings you’ve had since then.

Once the story is fully written, take a moment to acknowledge your work.

Completing this first draft is a huge step! It means you've begun the process of giving your experiences a voice, which is a key part of letting go of the weight you've carried alone.

We’re gonna build on this draft in the next chapter. By the time we’re done, the challenges you faced in these stories will be fading memories, and no longer threats your survival brain is keeping you on high alert for.

Follow these steps until your first draft is complete. Then move on to Chapter 6: Rebuilding Trust in the Present.

Additional Mission Support:

For another perspective on the kind of writing we're doing here check out this 6-minute video. It's on the benefits of writing about past trauma.

The video includes ideas inspired by Expressive Writing: Words that Heal by James W. Pennebaker. I've found that book to be incredibly helpful. I recommend getting the updated version: Opening Up By Writing It Down