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.

Category: alone

Ignoring all organ functions


He said all the wrong things at the right time…but I stayed anyway.
Idiotic is the feeling that rushes through when I realized I ignored the truth.
Giving preference to the illusional delusional characteristics of the heart.
Telling myself the heart is more than an organ.
The heart seemed to have pumped too much rose color nonsense to my brain.
When I am usually Medusa; filled with self created black blood.
With the power of healing my own wounds.
Self inflicted by ignoring my gut
Internally bleeding and regurgitating the red for black.
Deep inside I knew he never had me, or my emotional backing.
Trust. I trusted. I envisioned. I wish I hoped. I did all things a pessimistic Medusa wouldn’t do. Hope.
After the septic shock caused by the bacteria which is he
I then went into cardiogenic shock
I’m now in the garden alone trapped inside my own body.
No brain activity just artificially living and breathing, with the breath of lies that never left.
At one point his breath kept me warm.
No longer a thinking, feeling, loving being.
I live off vaccines
Forever to be punished for listening to the rose colored organ over matter.
Forever to be punished because I been here before, and assumed the same action will produce a different result.
Forever punished for trusting him with my heart-Hoping the gut was telling the brain lies as a defense mechanism.
Forever punished for going in the field of love without armour-again.
I guess I deserve to be a vegetable. I just can’t help but feel  for the next guy who think he will get more added to this meal.
I am a vegetable.


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.

Is it wrong to question everything?

I question life; I question God; I question everything. I have honest questions, that are only answered with opinions and belief systems. I am then pegged wrong for questioning something I clearly do not understand. Those who do not question- still do not have the answers. I can only answer with a feeling.

If my entire life was already designed why pray for change? Is it really in God’s hands then?  If the laws of attraction applies, then where is the God in it? If I willed it so; who is to say my will goes or doesn’t go against God’s plans.? I wanted something desperately, and I got it, but then its taken away. The purpose is this lesson learned in the end. What end?

I made something happen with my thoughts? Do my thoughts even belong to me? My biggest fear became my reality, and now I am praying for something that was destined to happen-to cease. I then put all my energy into this thing ending, and it ends when it feels like it. Not on my terms. As if I am not in control, because I am asking someone or it to stop what I caused. But I am supposed to be in control- I am God? God am I?

Am I being punished for asking/praying? The saying be careful what you ask for is key here. You pray for it you pay for it. Tell God your plans, and he will laugh- because we are not suppose to plan, but leave it up to God? Yet, we are told to think positively, as positive will come. When the opposite occurs, I am told life is unfair, and no one is exempt from suffering. Pray for the answer. Pray for a healing. Why think at all? Why feel at all?

If God is perfect than why is  jealous God? Why am I unable to practice Christianity, and serve a deity? Isn’t jealousy and greed a sin? Why does God punish, and never truly forgives in this existent life? Child bearing would not be painful if God forgave women. Why is suicide a sin? What if it is in my fate to suffer a long and tortured death in the future? Why is it wrong to be in control of my own destiny. But if my destiny was already foreshadowed what makes anything wrong? Born to sin and born to serve. What is the difference if the end result is equally damming ?

And after all  that I am still left without answers/


Alone or lonely

It’s the times your are amongst many when you realize you are the loneliness.


You know you are depressed when emotional eating takes a twisted turn to the biggest display of greed. I created the fattest cold stone recipe, and bought it in the mine size. I order vanilla ice cream mixed with, chocolate chip, cook dough, mashed waffle cones, yellow cake, and caramel sauce. Oh and I asked for extra cookie dough.

I was embarrassed in my head, but I could not wipe the smile off my face. I continued to smile when I would think of an extra ingredient to add in. Each time the poor girl thought she was done I added another. I didn’t care about being judged.

My only fear was that it would have costed more than the $11 I had on me. I failed to mention…I’m broke. The last thing I should be doing is spending $10.12 on ice cream. But that will be breakfast and dinner for at least a day or 2 so I’m good…right? Wrong!


You know you are depressed when you realize your antidepressant meds are working and you don’t want them to.

You just want to feel every detail of pain an sorrow. Instead you just feel sad, confused about why you wanted to drown in the bath tub a few days ago. Telling yourself it wasn’t that bad, but wishing you had the guts to do it. 

You are in this world of middle grown. You are still down but energy and optimism wants to leap out of you. It’s a mental twilight zone really. In many ways this feeling is not better because of the struggle. It’s confusing, overwhelming, and lonely.

You realized you were always in the twilight zone. The twilight zone is the reality. The extreme highs and lows are ignited by other stimuli. My love life saddens me, my friends bring laughter, and work is a combination of both that keeps me grounded. However, when I’m home alone  or alone with my thoughts; I find myself stuck in the twilight zone.
So I guess the pills are working…

Drunken rant of womanhood

Double standards are inevitable because men and women were made for different purposes.
One to create life while the other just remains on the surface.
Incapable of empathizing with what the other goes through  because we can’t even phathem how we do what we do; why we do what we do, and who made these rules. Every time I get my period I say dam, God never forgave me. Why would he make me suffer monthly?
Why would he broaden the wedge between man and woman externally?
Making the woman the reason man can not be patient or treat the woman kindly.
God played this horrible trick.
One month I’m a size 12; the next I am a size 14.

Our sex diminishes with our emotions, fatigue, and with age. I fear the day I will need assistance keeping my vagina moist, just to have a seat.


We must do more when we are older,
while men get a mid life crisis and purchase a new range rover.
We get menopause, he gets a younger model.
We continue to drink more red wine in bigger bottles.
How can I be so grateful, thankful for who I am,
when no one else seems to give a dam.?
Because I am a woman and this is what I’m supposed to go through, and it’s not fair I only have this “man” to pray to.
The one who created all this shit
because the rib coerced the body to do foul shit.
Why am I only a rib any fuckin way?
Who says I even believe this story?
Life is as fucked up as this story
A set up, a mind game  all for your glory
I guess I believe in Adam and Eve.
I defy the stars that put me in a world to live under a ruler who will never forgive me.
Forgive me for being a woman
Forgive me for falling for the trap that made me weak.
I take nothing from him I just need all 4 weeks

I no longer want to find comfort in wine, comfort in his arms and lies.
I no longer want to fear child birth, or worst;
fear that  my love will not empathize with how I
how I deal with the curse  of this tale
of being of being born a female.

Yes we are told to appreciate our curves sashay our hips.
Poke out our lips 
Bat our eyes and elude everyone to this special prize.
But nothing changes our anatomy. We can’t avoid the pain of our emotions.
Suffrage for our devotions.
Sickness monthly or as years pass.
The agony of child birth,  or hormones that gives us a personality similar to ass gas.
Because I am a woman and I have to deal with hot flashes

He has the nerve to be annoyed while I suffer

Shut up!


He never measured up to my lowest standards

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