Chapter 5: Empty the Pack

The first step in telling our full story is making sure we’re ready for whatever it brings up.

Back in Chapter 2, I described my untold military stories as “rocks in a rucksack” weighing me down. Some were too heavy to lift alone. Over time, I’ve come to see that most of us carry a few like that.

We’ll get to those soon. But first, we’ll start lighter.

This chapter is about what’s weighing on us now: everyday stress, small frustrations, and the little tensions we keep stuffing back in.

When I look in my own pack, it’s not just big rocks. It’s stuffed with work stress, relationship tension, money worries, and news overload. All jammed together.

To deal with all that, I use a 30-minute practice I call Empty the Pack. It helps unload invisible weight and build the strength to face heavier memories, if and when we choose to.

Why Writing?

Writing is a private way to work through emotionally charged thoughts.

In a perfect world, we’d come home to people ready to hear our stories and help carry their weight. But for many of us, that’s not the world we live in.

Some of us come home to no one. Or to people who feel like strangers. Even if we’ve got people who care, they might not have the capacity to really listen. They’re carrying their own burdens.

So what happens?

Most of what we carry never gets set down. It just piles up inside.

Writing gives us a way to offload that weight onto something that’s always ready to hold it: the page.

The page listens to every word.

It never interrupts.

It never tries to fix.

It never judges.

And it holds a perfect record of what we say.

Whether it’s paper (my preference), a writing app, or a voice memo, what matters is moving that weight out of our head and heart.

I’m not gonna bury you in research. Just know there are hundreds of studies showing expressive writing lowers stress, improves mood, reduces doctor visits, and more.

Here's a list of the benefits from one of the studies:

If you're curious, Google:

• “expressive emotional writing health impact studies”

• “veteran trauma expressive writing research findings”

After 15 years of exploring expressive writing, I’ve boiled it down to four steps that offer the most value. They give the most bang for the buck.

They’re not rigid rules, just a strong starting point. Over time, you'll add changes and make them our own.

At the very least, even a few sessions of “Emptying the Pack” can reveal how ready we are to face our heaviest stories.

That alone makes it worth doing.

Here’s the four-step practice I use to lighten the daily load.

It’s simple, flexible, and works even when I don’t feel like writing (which is most days).

Four Steps to Empty the Pack

Step 1: Set a Timer

Most times I sit down to write, I don’t really want to. Part of me would rather do anything else.

I want to be out there enjoying life—not sit and process more.

But I’ve learned it’s hard to enjoy anything when I’m buried in stress. What I called “enjoying life” was often just staying busy, or avoiding what was building up.

Even now, knowing I’ll feel better afterward, Resistance still shows up.

What finally shifted that was setting a timer.

Everything changed when I started using a 20-minute timer, followed by a 5-minute break.

For whatever reason, my inner rebel responds well to: “Just 20 minutes, then we get a break.”

Try experimenting, but 15 to 25 minutes usually works best. Less than that barely scratches the surface. More than that, focus can fade.

The timer calms my inner five-year-old. He trusts that the adult in charge (me) won’t lose track and trap us in all-day work mode (like I used to).

Making that kind of deal with my inner kid—the one who hates delayed gratification—has helped me sit down again and again.

And that consistency is what finally brought results.

Two Keys to Making Timed Writing Work:

1. Commit to Unshakable Focus


Once the timer starts, I give the writing my full attention.

• Phone on airplane mode
• Distractions cleared
• New conversations get paused

Then I write whatever’s weighing on me.

If I get stuck, I sit there. No scrolling. No news. No switching tasks. I wait.

Almost every time, something deeper rises.
 Something I would’ve missed if I bailed out early.

2. Honor the Break

When the timer goes off, I stop.


If I’m mid-sentence, I finish it. But I don’t push past the timer.

If ideas are flowing, I jot a note so I know where to pick up next time.
Stopping on time is part of the deal.

It reassures the part of me that resists: “See? I won’t trap you here forever.”

That trust helps all of me show up again tomorrow.

Step 2: Unload Today’s Rocks

As soon as the timer starts, I write.

When I’m Emptying the Pack, I don’t dive into old military memories or deep pain. Not yet. That’s a different kind of writing. We’ll get to it in the next chapter. For now, I stay with what’s fresh.

What’s weighing on me today?

If something current is tangled up with the past, I still write about it, but I focus on what’s happening now. What’s being stirred up by today’s situation?

I focus on whatever feels heavy in daily life—the stuff that keeps me up at night.

Once I start, I let the words flow. Uncensored, messy. No editing.

There’s usually a part of me that’s been waiting to say what it really thinks, without holding back. No need to be nice, politically correct, or protect anyone else’s feelings.

This is my space. I’m not writing something good. I’m writing something honest.

What If I Feel Stuck?

If nothing comes up, I ask:

• Where do I feel tension in my body? What might be causing it to show up there?

• What thoughts won’t leave me alone when I try to rest?

• What feels unfair from this week?

• Is there something I regret doing—or not doing?

• Is there a recent conversation or frustration I can’t shake?

• What’s been pounding inside me, waiting to be let out?

• Am I hauling a heavy load for someone else?

Once something surfaces, I ask:


“If I could say exactly how I feel—without holding back—what would I write?”


The more we let it out here, the less it explodes somewhere else.

Let it rip.

Step 3: Notice One Specific Impact

After the timer goes off, I pick one thing and look closer at the weight it’s adding.

I used to skip this step. It kept me stuck.

I kept circling the same frustrations, just journaling or talking without really processing.

I was piling on the same input, and never digesting it.

Over time I learned that if I don’t pause to explore the impact, I stay stuck in surface-level venting.

This step helps me digest what’s coming up instead of just venting.

Note: This step has two parts: 3A and 3B

Step 3A: Pick Today's Leading Issue

I look over what I wrote in Step 2, choose one thing that stands out, and boil it down to a single, specific sentence.

Examples:

• "I feel misunderstood by my wife about my politics."
• "I'm anxious about what's going on at work with my next project."
• "I’m irritable because I haven’t had a single day on my own schedule in over two weeks.”

If I’m torn between a few things, I ask:

“What’s weighing on me the most, and how can I say it in one sentence?”

I keep it short and specific.

I don’t need to get to everything today. I just choose one. Tomorrow, I can focus on another.

Step 3B: Explore the Impact

Then I set another timer (for 5 to 10 minutes) and write only about the issue I just tagged.

I ask myself things like:

• What emotions are tied to this situation?

—> If I’m unsure, I ask: What does it feel like in my body? If this emotion had a weight, shape, or size, what would it be?

• How is this affecting my energy, focus, or mood?

• What’s the hardest part of this situation for me?

• What’s one thing I wish the other people involved could understand?

• How would I write about this if I didn’t edit myself in any way?

I’m not trying to fix anything. This isn’t therapy—it’s just a check-in.

Five to ten minutes. Exploring one impact. Even if ten things are pulling at me, I choose one.

That’s what makes this feel doable, especially on tough days.

Step 4: Close With Gratitude & Move Forward

This last step is about putting things down with care, so we’re not hauling them through the rest of our day.

To make that closure real, I do something simple:

• Close my notebook, and set it aside—or shut the app.

• Say to myself: "It's on the page now. I don’t need to carry this anymore today."

I move my body: step outside, stretch, or knock out a few pushups. Just enough to shift gears.

Then I write down one small gratitude, even if it's just for the air I'm breathing.

A Real-Life Example of 'Emptying My Pack'

1. Setting a Timer
   I wake up feeling tense and irritable. Not sure why. Timer set for 20 minutes.
2. Unloading Today’s Rocks
   I start writing about my body. I’m worn down. The aches and pains keep adding up, and it’s been going on too damn long. Then my attention shifts to my wife. I love her, and right now her expectations around buying a house are driving me nuts. What she wants feels out of reach. Part of me wonders if she’s worth all this trouble.
   I let it all come out. Messy and raw. I write about everything that feels unfair. A few F-bombs and other four-letter words spill onto the page. I’m frustrated that I can’t help her see how her actions affect me. That I can’t show up for her as the mature, loving man I want to be. Instead, I slip into my rebellious teenage side, or my overly stern father-figure side.
   BEEP BEEP BEEP (Timer goes off)
3. Noticing One Impact
   I look back and ask: “If I had to sum up what’s bothering me in one sentence, what would I say?”

Here’s what comes out:

“I haven’t been clear with her about my vision for our future home, and because of that, she doesn’t realize how much her open ended approach makes it hard for me to see the next steps.”

Huh. I hadn’t seen that before. I set a timer for 7 minutes to hone in on what's going on.
I check in with my body. My shoulders and jaw are tight from holding back words I know could hurt her. I write those words out uncensored, so they don’t stay trapped inside me. I don’t wanna curse like that in front of her.

I admit how hard it is not having a place of our own. When she gets frustrated about our living situation, it feels like a reflection of my shortcomings as a man. Sometimes I distance myself so I don’t have to see my own failure reflected in her eyes. It’s painful to look at.

She’s frustrated. I’m frustrated. We’re both stuck.
I wish she knew how hard I’m trying… and that I need her help to break things down into simple, actionable steps.
BEEP BEEP

4. Closing the With Gratitude & Moving Forward
   "F*ck. That sucked." But I’m glad it’s out. I feel lighter with it on the page.

I’m grateful she cares enough to take this home-buying process seriously, even if we see it differently. She's my teammate.

Writing down that gratitude makes things feel complete for now.

I close my notebook, put it away, and step outside.

Fresh air. Warm sunshine. I stretch a little with my hands behind my head. I know I can come back to this tomorrow if I need to. For now, I let the page carry the weight.

I remind myself, if I reread or obsess over what I just wrote, I’d just be picking the rocks back up. That’s not the point. The point was to set them down. And I did.

Wrapping Things Up:

Lighten the Load, One Rock at a Time

For years, I struggled to get the full benefit of therapy, meditation, and other support—because my pack was too full.

That made it nearly impossible to reach the big stuff underneath.

Writing like this, just 20 or 30 minutes at a clip, helped me clear out the daily stress and mental clutter.

Then, when I had the right support, I could see the bigger rocks more clearly, and reach for them more confidently.

A Note On Privacy

This only works if I write like no one will ever read it. No filter, just unpolished truth.

That kind of honesty only comes when I know my privacy is protected. If I worry someone might read what I wrote, I destroy it: burn it, shred it, or delete the file.

Recap: The Four Steps

1) Set a Timer – 20 minutes. No distractions.

2) Unload Today’s Rocks – Write freely. No editing, just let it out.

3) Notice One Specific Impact – Take 5 minutes to explore one thing that stands out.

4) Close With Gratitude & Move Forward - Write one gratitude, and physically shift gears.

When I feel stuck, overwhelmed, or numb, Empty the Pack is one of the first tools I reach for.

And I remind myself: it’s a tool, not a one-time fix.

Some weeks, I do it daily. Other weeks, once is enough. I keep it a quick salute to my emotional well-being—not an all-day parade.

But what about the heavier stuff, the deep-down rocks we've carried for years?

That’s where we’re headed next.

In Chapter 6, we’re going to go beyond unloading surface weight. We’re going back for the stories that rocked our world and shaped us in ways that no longer serve us.

We won’t rush it. There’s no pressure to dive in before we’re ready.

We’ll take it step by step like we've been doing. We’ll cover how to approach each one of these heavier stories in a safe, grounded, and redemptive way.

Before moving forward, take a breath.

Is there weight in your pack today that wants to be unloaded?

This is an opportunity to show up. To put something down on the page.

Keep it simple: unload it, notice one impact, and move forward with gratitude.

If it's time, set that timer.

After two Empty the Pack sessions, you’ll know when you’re ready for the bigger rocks.

That’s what's next, in Chapter 6: No Story Left Behind.