The Science of Resilience in Journaling and Dance

When I say journaling and dancing saved me, I do not mean that lightly. They protected me from emotional manipulation, coercion, and harm. They allowed me to reclaim my identity, recognize my talents and values, and—most of all—express my emotions without restraint. These “hobbies” became my most powerful tools for resilience and self-discovery.

In the late ’90s, it was only my journal that knew about my fears, my doubts, and my shame. The same with my heartaches—the ones I felt too embarrassed to talk about with anyone, including my parents. Like many girls, I was taught not to complain, to be humble, and to behave. Upon moving into my own apartment, I became fair game. Only my diary witnessed my most profound pains and disappointments.

“I don’t know how to feel or what to think… I hope I don’t have to censor my tears much longer; I should just cry them. I don’t recognize myself anymore. Sometimes this world makes me sick. People are sick. I detest them. Maybe we are just garbage and stupidly think we are of great importance.”

Words I never dared to speak out loud—too raw, too heavy, too intimate. So why write them down? Because self-reflection is essential to mental health. Research in cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) has shown that journaling can provoke a shift in a person’s perception. It supports personal insight as well as awareness of one’s (harmful) behavior. It also promotes a change in behavior.

With time, my journal revealed the reason I did not recognize myself: I was often told I was someone else. Luckily, my intuition to write a diary brought me clarity.

Journaling allowed me to gather pieces of myself. Important data, which then served what I call my awakening—a gradual realization that I needed to be honest with my experiences. Writing down my observations made me more aware of my inner world, my surroundings, and the patterns shaping my life. Writing down new possible scenarios opened the door to new relationships. I learned how to make better decisions and navigate toward connections that aligned with my values.

One of these connections I made here in Israel is with Leetal Caidar Benzvi, a fellow blogger for The Times of Israel. When I read the title of her blog, “From Silence to Strength: How Art Helps Heal Trauma in Israel,” (link) I was immediately drawn to her article. She wrote about her method, The Resilience Journal, the silence of trauma, her grandmother’s diary, and her work with Nova survivors. The last sentence of her article said, “Perhaps for you, or someone you know, the first step toward resilience can start with a simple act of creation.”

I strongly believe in co-creation, so I contacted Leetal and asked to meet. Our conversation flowed immediately—funny enough, she studied in Saas Fee, a city in my home country, Switzerland. We shared our experiences with expressive art. I recalled the first thing I did after the war broke out on October 7th: I rented a little studio. As a professional dancer and longtime practitioner of the creative arts, I knew firsthand about the benefits. Furthermore, my diary, expanding over twenty years, was full of testimonies. Dance was my medicine, and I was going to use it.

Growing up, there wasn’t much education on the matter. But, just like with journaling, the world has come to recognize that these activities are more than just pastimes—they are powerful practices. Only later did I discover the science behind them and their well-documented positive impact on mental health, including in the treatment of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

For a long time, dance was largely underrepresented as a method to prevent or alleviate PTSD. In some cases, cultures with dance-based healing rituals were even ridiculed. However, in 1985, The National Survey of Indian Vietnam Veterans gathered thorough data on how American Indian communities effectively used tribal ceremonies to help veterans, leading to recommendations for assisting both Indigenous and non-Indigenous veterans with PTSD. By 2008, Dance for Veterans set out to create a structured, measurable health program incorporating biopsychosocial-spiritual treatment tailored to the veteran population, inspiring further research (Wilbur et al., 2015,  link).

During my spring semester in 2023 at Tel Aviv University, I chose the research topic: What kind of effect does dance have in treating post-traumatic stress? I was positively surprised by the extent of existing literature, and all the more disappointed that we do not use those findings to create a more integrative healthcare model.

I remember how art was deemed “non-essential” during COVID times. Oh, the irony, knowing that it is art that helps people express what words cannot. It is art that can restore interpersonal connectedness. It is art that improves both physical and psychological health. It is to art we turn in times of celebration and grief.

By fall 2023, I found myself in a country at war. My now-husband thought it was best for me to leave until the situation improved. I made the decision to stay and said to myself, ‘I have tools.’ So, I journaled and danced, which helped me navigate through these most difficult times. While not a substitute for professional care, they can be essential practices for resilience and self-expression during challenging times, serving as effective complements—offering a lifeline when access to more traditional mental health support is limited.

On February 11, 2025, a Times of Israel article highlighted a report on the mental health system in Israel (link):
‘…approximately 3 million people in the adult population have experienced anxiety, depression, and symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.
State Comptroller Matanyahu Engelman is said to have criticized a system that operated ‘without a structured approach, alongside local volunteer initiatives, and without maintaining treatment continuity and documentation.’
According to the article, the search for suitable therapists and the months-long wait for treatment are significant hurdles that prevent people from seeking help through health management organizations and resilience centers. Understandably, there is a shortage of manpower. However, Leetal and I also believe that the general understanding of therapeutic treatment can sometimes be narrow or short-sighted.

Without question, people with mental health issues must be treated with the utmost care. However, there seems to be an expectation that individuals should put their pain and suffering on hold until the healthcare system is prepared to support them. For those still on waiting lists or struggling to find help, expressive arts can provide a way to process emotions and regain a sense of agency. While it is not intended to replace formal therapy, there is still a lingering bias against their use. Expressive arts, in their essence, hold a powerful therapeutic potential that is often underestimated—partly because it’s challenging to find adequate language to describe their impact.

Whatever the wording, I urge everyone to use and experience what is close at hand—a pen and paper, your body, or music. Expressive arts can complement traditional therapy or serve as a bridge to it. It is crucial not to underestimate the power of journaling and movement for recovery. Some dismiss them as ‘what little girls do.’ Well, I was one of those girls. And because of these practices, I did not just endure—I thrived. Research shows that they can help regulate the nervous system and improve emotional processing. Many therapists incorporate movement and journaling into their work, recognizing their therapeutic potential alongside other interventions.

The dandelion: a symbol of resilience and transformation, echoing the power of the written word. (Picture by the author)

As I flip through my gratitude journal, something I do regularly, I come across a note I made after a dance class. One of the participants said the following:

“Even the trees and windows look more sassy after your class.”

I remember how much I laughed at this comment, but today, I find greater meaning in it. It really confirms the science behind the practice. It can change your perception.

I hope you find your path to recovery. And if you have doubts, feel ashamed, or worry about what others might say—just take that first step, make that one call. You may be surprised to find yourself welcomed with open arms, among others who understand and can bear witness to your story or simply to your presence. Rituals work best in community.

Want proof? Just look to the wisdom of storytellers and the research of scientists. Both reveal the same truth: these empowering and transformative practices work. Perhaps it’s time to trust and apply what has always been known. For this to truly take root, however, we must use the right language—one that not only gives these practices the recognition they merit but also reflects the true findings.