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Healing Through Memoir and Biography: How Storytelling Transforms Trauma

When I sit down with clients to help them tell their stories, the process often becomes more than just an interview—it turns into something deeply personal, even therapeutic. I’ve worked with people who’ve experienced profound trauma, and as they recount their lives, our sessions naturally shift into spaces where healing begins. Writing isn’t just about putting words on a page; it’s about witnessing someone’s journey, and witnessing can be transformative.

I’ve often been told I’m a good listener. That might be because I genuinely care about the winding, unexpected paths people take in life. But I also believe it’s due to something more unique: I have synaesthesia, and I’m what’s known as a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP). These traits allow me to experience stories in a way that brings them vividly to life on the page, offering a level of empathy and connection that my clients deeply appreciate.

How Synaesthesia Shapes My Storytelling

Synaesthesia is a blending of the senses—different for everyone who experiences it. For me, time isn’t an abstract concept; it’s something I see. Imagine a circular racetrack stretching out before you, covering two years at a time, with weekends appearing as larger blocks. Most of this visual landscape is in black and white, but certain periods glow yellow. So, when someone mentions a specific time, like October of last year, I don’t just recall it—I see that month and week, which triggers a cascade of memories. It’s a process I don’t fully understand, but it’s one that helps me dive deeper into the stories people share with me.

Others with synaesthesia experience it differently—seeing letters in color, hearing music as vibrant visuals, or even smelling sounds. For me, beyond the visualisation of time, I also experience vivid mental imagery, especially when it comes to geography. If someone talks about Italy, I don’t just think of the country—I immediately see a bright yellow, boot-shaped object in front of me. Without this visual cue, I struggle to engage in the conversation fully.

When recalling a memory tied to a place, it’s like zooming out to a Google Earth view, allowing me to see the scene from above. Every country and memory takes on a three-dimensional shape, unfolding before me in real-time, making the retelling richer and more immersive.

Memory Like an IMAX Screen

I recently took my daughter to see a film at the IMAX—the largest cinema screen in the UK, uniquely positioned in the middle of a roundabout at London’s Waterloo. At first, the screen’s sheer size felt overwhelming, but as the film progressed, I began to feel like I was inside the story. That’s the closest comparison I can make to how I experience memories: as if they’re projected on a massive, immersive screen, surrounding me completely.

This kind of vivid recall isn’t just about seeing memories—it’s also about feeling them.

The Power of Empathy: Feeling Stories as My Own

As a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP), I don’t just visualise memories—I re-feel them. When I bring certain moments to mind, I experience the emotions with the same intensity as when they first happened. This emotional synaesthesia allows me to not only recall a story’s visual aspects but also feel the emotions that come with it.

When I work with clients, this deep empathy becomes a powerful tool. As they share their stories, I don’t just listen passively—I live their experiences alongside them. I see their memories unfolding before me, as if I’m back in that IMAX theatre. Their joys, their traumas, their victories and heartbreaks—I feel them all. This level of connection allows me to write with an authenticity that resonates deeply with my clients.

Of course, this sensitivity can be a double-edged sword. Reliving someone else’s trauma can be emotionally exhausting. But it’s also what makes my work so meaningful. I’ve found a way to channel these abilities into a career that not only helps others tell their stories but also aids in their healing process.

Storytelling as a Path to Healing

One of the most powerful aspects of this work is witnessing how storytelling can help people process their past. I’ve had clients who didn’t fully realise the extent of their trauma until they saw their life laid out on the page. But there’s something about seeing your story in black and white that allows you to place it in the past, to contain it, and to move forward.

Not every client wants to name names or point fingers—and that’s perfectly okay. Sometimes, we change names or fictionalise aspects of the story. The goal isn’t to assign blame but to share a journey that might offer guidance to others, showing the complexity of the human experience and our incredible capacity to heal.

One client, for example, asked me to fictionalise her life. She intentionally didn’t reveal her son’s name. When I wrote the first draft, I chose the name Tarquin—because it felt unique enough to protect his identity. To her surprise, that was her son’s name. Moments like that feel almost magical, and while I can’t fully explain how they happen, they speak to the deep connection I often feel with my clients’ stories.

Your Story Deserves to Be Heard

Whether you’re looking to write a memoir, a biography, or even fictionalise your life story, I’m here to help you bring it to life. My ability to deeply connect with your experiences means your story won’t just be written—it will be felt.

Sharing your story with someone who truly sees and understands you can be a deeply healing experience. If you’re ready to tell your story, let’s connect. Together, we can create something meaningful, powerful, and uniquely yours.