pain
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The Weight of Healing: Reflections on Surgery and Pain
Day two, and the pain is relentless. It moves through me in waves: sharp, deep, and unforgiving. I’ve always been a side sleeper, but now my body resists every position, every shift, every attempt at comfort. My bed, once a place of rest, now feels foreign, incapable of holding me through this. So, I’ve surrendered Continue reading
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Surgery, Cysts, and Coffee
I had surgery today, and honestly, it was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I was wheeled into the OR, scared out of my mind, not really knowing what to expect, but I had an amazing medical team that made all the difference. My gynecological oncologist is the top in the area, Continue reading
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Between the Knife and the Unknown
I lie beneath the weight of waiting,the hush before the plunge,where time bends,where breath is borrowed,where the body is a question with no answer. The scalpel sings in silent promise,a whispered hymn of hope and risk.Will I wake to the sun’s golden mercy,or slip into the quiet where names are forgotten? I have traced the Continue reading
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Alone
I am sending this question out into the void. Who should I lean on when I have no one? Continue reading
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The Inheritance of Ash and Earth
I was born from ruin, from hunger,a child of sorrow stitched from the remnants of history,woven together with the thread of survival.From the bones of a world broken and reformed,I rose, carrying the weight of two broken pastsand the hope of something that could heal the cracks between them.A body made from ghosts,an echo of Continue reading
American, Authenticity, bombing, creative-writing, creativity, death, deep south, deep-thoughts, Germans, germany, Growth, heartache, inner-work, Inspiration, loss, love, Mindfulness, moments, mother, pain, Poetry, politics, poverty, reflection, Self portrait, Self Reflection, self-discovery, sketching, spiritual, starving, suffering, usa, war, world War ii -
The Home I Carry With Me
Home. It’s a word that holds so much meaning. For years, I thought it was simply a place like the house I grew up in, the rooms that felt familiar, the roof that kept everything out. I thought it was a fixed thing, a physical space that defined where I belonged. But over time, I’ve Continue reading
The Dreamer's Pen 