Chronically Healing Through Writing

Thoughts of the end -so through a pen I share rawfully honest thoughts. Thoughts about my relationship with chronic pain. Thoughts about the fantasies of romantic love , and the agony when this illusion disappears. The goal is to learn from my own journey through words.

Month: August, 2014


I no longer want to be naked. Naked= alone.

Clothes will always be with me.

I continue to cover the truth, flaws, and scars.

Camouflage  the  fat-covered well enough to elude the most clever of characters

One will not leave from disappoint- Only touch me when I am in cloth

Draped over my body, to hide the shame; the embarrassment; my truest self

The self I do not know anymore.

 I refuse to display things I no longer recognize.

The viewer would know me more than I know myself-and then leave

And every time after, I must knit another sweater, because I have grown cold after-he left

Tired of rebuilding-Putting myself back together-re-learning to love the woman who always gets walked out on

Desperate enough to want them to stay, and welcome the mental abuse

A shameful thought to think abuse = something more than abandonment- maybe love?

At least he stays- I say in my head

He stays and yells; he stays and neglects; he stays and takes advantage; he stays and fights with me

Point is… he stays

No, they all leave and they all leave the same way

Disappears without a word; not even willing to return to get the things they left behind 

Leaving me to think my nakedness ran them off

So I will remain covered



I continue to drown. I allow myself to drown- as I wait for this one lifeguard to save me.

The same lifeguard who threw me in.

It was supposed to be a small dip.

Drowning, now sinking, as I go under. I realize his hand is pushing me further down this ocean.

This ocean consist of the tears that never end. 

Suffocated by false nurture- he pushes me further into the land of known.

I known- I knew he would let me sink- I didn’t know he would throw me in.

Usually this lifeguard would  slowly guide me to the water.

He said I needed to learn how to swim, and  would never let me drown. 

He then would take me to the deep end where I began to struggle. I would begin to lose my bearings and he would eventually rescue me. 

He would scoop me in his arms, and wrap me with his towel of false nurture, and I admit I feel secure each time

He always knew how to save me, and comfort me. 

Now I am drowning, and he does not want me to come for air. 

After pushing my head down; I am now unconscious, but I hear him walking away in relief.

He is relieved that he no longer has to pretend to care if I drown.

He is relieved- he is now of duty

I am conscious in spirit, and I see other life guards willing to rescue me.

I won’t let them because I stand firm on waiting for this one particular life guard.

However, his footsteps sound further away. He is not coming back.

I wait .

He who causes the boo-boo- is the one you want the band-aid from

He who causes the tears- is the one you want to dry them away

And then there is mine

Who allowed my tears to become an ocean.

Suffocated and drowned me in my ocean of tears and walked away.

Drowning in a Glass of Hope