The Vacant Wound

I prayed, journaled, added warmth, cooling gels, applied salves, balanced crystals, took drugs, joined support groups, I praised my uterus, I asked it for forgiveness, I went to acupuncture, I ignored it, talked about it, stretched, convinced myself I was crazy, went to physical therapy and resigned myself to a life of discomfort, wondered why and then decided, isn’t pain reason enough?

A Proper Propegation

can’t tell you how fucking stressful this is. To look at your sensitive fiddle leaf fig with scissors hidden behind your back. To them, it is just another day staring at the sun, but you know in your heart what’s about to happen.

My Little Shrine Bloomed

And when you’re indecisive and especially when you’re in mourning, sometimes you need to sleep on it. When I woke up I had the clarity that I am an extremely crafty and capable person and the most meaningful symbol would most definitely something created with my own to hands.

Part IV {Pain}

The truth is that everything still hurts. All the pain I’ve chased away, hidden, ran from, pretended wasn’t there, and of course, there’s, the pain I’ve clung to and somewhat cherished, that is still there too. You see, sometimes pain is the only thing you have left from something else.