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: Thinking through pondering along

Ignoring all organ functions

image

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.

It is you.

I am the problem. I realized I am the problem. I over think, and I over analogize, but I failed to see I am the
common denominator in all that is wrong. This epiphany does not come lightly, as I have been in denial for some time. The people who love you, only see who they love, but are blind to the reality. Its makes all the advice about loving and accepting yourself pretty useless. 

My mind is my worst enemy. It tells me things I know are true, and my feelings become hurt when others see it. Yet, those who disagree, think I have low self esteem.This is not refreshing news. It is not refreshing because I just do not care to do anything about it.  I am tired of trying to improve something that is obviously in my destiny. I have done serious damage to myself just to be accepted. Why fight it? I just have to grow tougher skin, and learn to deal with those who see the truth, and love those who love me enough to ignore it. I am a black women without curves, I have a gut, and no butt! Fuck it!

Alone or lonely

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

He said

You recall conversations
You remember when he said
He said he gives it 2 tries
He tried twice
He would wait 2 days
He would call 2 times
He believes in second chances
However not when it comes to me.
One day, one call, and I am not even a second thought.
Who is the winner if you can’t be in first place? What about 2nd or 3rd? Is there a difference?

Depression

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.

image

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!

image