When I was a first-year PhD student, we studied James Pennebaker, an incredible researcher. One of his significant contributions was exploring how writing can help people handle trauma. His experiments demonstrated that writing about traumatic experiences provides a beneficial distance, offers a third-person perspective, and concretely describes events. Inspired by his work, I decided to try it myself.
In the second semester, having learned about Pennebaker in the first, I dedicated time each day to writing about my own hospital experience. The process was challenging and far from enjoyable; it required deep reflection and the dredging of difficult memories. However, it felt valuable. By the end of the term, I had compiled my writings and decided to take Pennebaker's idea further.
I visited the art department, printed a single copy of my book, and even designed a cover for it. Creating this physical book felt psychologically significant—it wasn't just about writing and reflecting but also about producing something tangible. This act of printing and shelving the book symbolized closure for me. I believe that having a physical copy made a crucial difference; keeping it digital wouldn't have had the same impact.
Now, considering AI's role in writing and trauma today—what if I were doing this now? Would I be tempted to use AI tools to write more efficiently? Probably. But I think that would be a mistake. The struggle inherent in writing is essential; it's about making mistakes, taking wrong turns, and learning what works and what doesn't. If I had used AI to streamline the process, I would have missed out on the growth and resilience that come from grappling with the material.
Today, people can probably write books faster than they can read them using AI tools. You could input keywords like trauma, burn department, 70%, and three years in hospital and generate content quickly. But this efficiency isn't beneficial for processing trauma.
What about those who don't write to process trauma? What about fiction or social science writing? Are we sacrificing something valuable? Last week, I struggled to describe something accurately. Yesterday, I finally figured it out. This struggle was worthwhile; it’s a competition between efficiency and deeper learning through the process.
In conclusion, when considering AI, trauma, and human development, I'll continue to embrace my struggles with writing. I'll strive to understand things on my own and appreciate the learning journey.
