Chapter 5: Emptying the Pack

The first step in telling our full story is making sure we're ready for whatever comes 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 start lighter.

In this chapter, we’ll write about what’s weighing on us right now: everyday stress, small frustrations, the little tensions we keep stuffing back in.

When I look in my own pack, it’s not just big rocks. It’s packed 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 Emptying the Pack. It’s writing that helps us 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 process emotionally charged thoughts.

In a perfect world, we’d come home to people ready to hear our stories and help carry the weight of them. 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’ve got 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 transfer 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 and onto the page.

I’m not gonna bury you in research. Just know that there are hundreds of studies showing expressive writing can lower stress, improve our mood, reduce 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”

I’ve taken what I've learned from 15 years of working with different expressive writing techniques and boiled it down into four steps. They give the most bang for the buck. These aren't rigid rules—just a strong starting point. The more we work with them, the more we’ll tweak, adapt, and make them our own.

At the very least, "Emptying the Pack" a few times can show us how ready we already are to face our heaviest stories.

That alone makes it worth it.

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

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

The Four Steps of Emptying 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 be doing anything else.

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

But I’ve learned it’s hard to enjoy anything when I’m overloaded with buried stress. What I used to call “enjoying life” was really just staying busy—or distracting myself from what was building up under the surface.

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

The one thing that helped shift my relationship with Resistance 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 to find the time frame that works best. I recommend 15 to 25 minutes. Less than that and we barely scratch the surface. More than that and focus tends to fade.

I don’t know the psychology of it, but having a timer seems to calm my inner five-year-old. He trusts that the adult in charge—me—won’t lose track and trap us in work mode all day 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, more than anything else, is what finally brought results.

Two Keys to Making Timed Writing Work:

1. Commit to Unbreakable Focus


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

• I put my phone on airplane mode
• Clear distractions
• Pause new conversations

Then I empty out whatever’s weighing on me.

If I get stuck, I sit there. No scrolling on my phone. 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 that timer goes off, I stop.


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

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

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

That trust helps me show up again tomorrow.

Step 2: Unload Today’s Rocks

As soon as the timer starts, I'm writing.

When I’m Emptying the Pack, I don’t dive into old military memories or deep pain—at least not yet. That’s a different kind of writing. We’ll get to it in the next chapter. For now, I stay focused on 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 keep the focus on what’s happening now. What’s getting stirred up by today’s situation?

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

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

I usually find there’s 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 take care of 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 right away, I ask myself:

• Where do I feel tension in my body? Why might it be there?

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

• What feels unfair or unresolved from this week?

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

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

• Am I hauling a heavy load for someone else?

Once something surfaces, I ask:


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


Then I let it rip.

Step 3: Tag 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. And it kept me stuck.

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

Just piling on the same input, never digesting it.

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

This step makes sure I digest—not just vent.

This step has two parts: 3A and 3B

Step 3A: Pick Today's Leading Issue

I look over what I wrote in Step 2, pick 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 and grumpy because I haven't had a day totally 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?"

Short and specific.

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

Step 3B: Explore the Impact

Then I set another timer—5 to 10 minutes—and focus in on 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 in my body, what would it be?

• How has this situation affected my energy, focus, or mood?

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

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

• What would happen if I didn’t edit myself and just wrote out exactly how I feel?

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

Five to ten minutes. One impact. One emotion. Even if ten things are pulling at me, I pick one.

That's what helps this feel doable—especially on tough days.

For example: there was a stretch when my wife and I argued almost daily (mostly about politics). We were both stressed, overwhelmed, and reactive.

For a week, I did this writing practice every day.
 Each time, I focused on a different way the situation was impacting me:
 the judgments I had about "her side", my fears around agreeing with what she was saying, the ways I felt misunderstood.
 I didn’t try to fix anything. I just explored the impact of one thing each day.

By the end of the week, I saw the full picture more clearly.
 And I could meet her from a more accepting place.

Step 4: Close the Pack and Move Forward With Gratitude

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

To make that closure real, I might do something simple:

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

• Say something to myself, like:

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

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

It helps anchor the shift from what happened then, into what’s real now.

A Real-Life Example of 'Emptying My Pack'

1. Setting a Timer
   I wake up feeling tense and irritable. Not sure why. Something feels off. Timer set for 20 minutes.
2. Unloading Today’s Rocks
   I start writing about how frustrated I am with my body. I'm worn down. The aches and pains keep adding up, and this has been going on way too damn long. Then my attention shifts to my wife. I love her and right now her expectations about buying a house are driving me nuts. What she wants feels out of reach. Part of me wonders if she's worth all the trouble.
   I let everything come out, messy and raw. I write about all the things that feel unfair. I'm frustrated because I can't seem to help her understand how her actions affect our life. I can’t seem to show up as the mature, loving man I want to be. Instead, our interactions pull out my rebellious teenage side, or my overly stern father-figure side.
   BEEP BEEP BEEP (Timer goes off)
3. Tagging One Impact
   I look back at what I wrote and ask myself:
   “If I had to sum up what’s bothering me the most 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. That's something I didn’t see before. I set another 5-minute timer to go deeper.
   I explore what this feels like in my body: my shoulders, and jaw are tight from holding back words I know could hurt her. I admit how hard it is not having a place of our own. When she gets frustrated about our current living situation, it feels like a direct reflection of my shortcomings as a man. Sometimes I distance myself so I don’t have to face my sense of failure reflected in her eyes. It’s painful to look at that. She’s frustrated, I’m frustrated, and 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 Pack & Moving Forward
   "F*ck. That sucked." But I’m glad it’s out. I feel lighter having unloaded it onto the page.
   I realize I’m grateful she cares enough to take this home-buying process seriously, even if we see it differently.
   I close my notebook, put it away, and step outside. Fresh air. Warm sunshine. I interlock my fingers behind my head and stretch a little. I know I can come back to this tomorrow if I need to. For now, I let the page hold the weight.
   I remind myself that if I keep rereading or obsessing over what I just wrote, I’d just be picking those rocks back up. And that’s not the point. The point was to set them down, and I did that.

Wrapping Things Up:

Lighten the Load, One Rock at a Time

For years, I struggled to get the full benefits of therapy, meditation, and other supportive programs—because my pack was too stuffed.

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 frustrations, tensions, and mental clutter that had built up.

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

If Emotional Static Lingers

Sometimes, if I still feel stirred up after writing, I help my nervous system reset by moving my body.

• I stretch and shake out my arms and legs.

• I take three deep breaths, focusing on the exhale.

• I step outside. I feel the sun, the breeze, the dirt under my feet.

• I remind myself:
 “I gave this attention. Now I’m shifting gears. I can always come back to it tomorrow.”

A Note On Privacy

For this process to work, I need to write like no one will ever read it. No filter. Unpolished truth.

That kind of honesty only happens when I feel confident my privacy is secure. If I worry someone might read it, I destroy it afterward—burning, shredding, or deleting the file.

Recap: The Four Steps

1) Set a Timer – 20-minute timer, no distractions.

2) Unload Today’s Rocks – Write freely for 20 minutes. No editing, just let it out.

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

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

Whenever I’m feeling stuck, overwhelmed, or numb, Emptying 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, just once is enough. And 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 buried for years?

That’s what the next chapter is for.

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 ultimately redemptive way.

Before moving forward, take a breath.

Is there any weight in your pack right now that wants to be unloaded?

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

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

If it's time, set that timer.

After you’ve done at least two Emptying the Pack sessions, you’ll know when you’re ready to start facing the bigger rocks.

That’s where we’re headed next: Chapter 6: No Story Left Behind.