Pain Is A Pen by MwsR

When I think back on my life, the fifty some years I have been alive on this earth, I have many things that I hold in thought. I think of being adopted, first and foremost. I would not say being adopted made me, but it sure shaped my opinions, my ideas, my motives, at times, and so forth.

One of the reasons I write is because i have a lot of things inside this brunette haired head. I have always used my writing be it by pen and paper, or by typing, as a form of therapy. I have never been to someone for therapy and frankly I am not in favor of doing that, as it pertains to me, I have however, seen those who are so much happier and better for going to see someone in the therapy business. I do believe it can and does help some. I for myself, choose to let God and myself deal with my own issues.

Thinking of my life, I mentioned being adopted. Adoption has many outcomes. Some are painful, some are great, and some adoptions are just so-so. Like with everything in life, adoption is not a guarantee that a person will be happy or fulfilled. It does not discriminate between person’s of any particular race or creed. I believe adoption is like either a means to better predicament, or perhaps someone’s dream in that they wished to be adopted, or maybe it gives hope where hope was lost. If adoption is done right and with open minds, I believe there is much potential for a better life, a more loving one, and a more stable future. I’m not here to just write about adoption, all though to know some of the reason’s why I write, one might need to understand, that I was adopted.

For me pain was a pen. It was the means to get things off of my chest, from around my heart, and out from inside my mind. My pen has always been emotion. I write because I am empathetic and a very sensitive person. I can almost feel another’s plight o their pain. Sometimes it is because I too, have lived their way. Maybe I have contemplated some of their same emotions before. I am not sure that it is just pain that keeps me writing. I think I write because I want to help others. I want others not to feel alone in the emotions they have. Although we all are individuals, we are also emotional human beings.

If you have pain in your past, in your life, in this moment, how can you turn that into something else, maybe something positive? I write sometimes of things I see, sometimes it is things I feel. More than not it something I have lived before that pushes me to write. I do not dwell on what I write, and honestly half of the time I don’t even re-read it. I feel that when I am writing it is coming as it is laid upon my heart. If I were to re-read most of it, I would see flaws, see errors, and if I correct those, I would miss the emotion that led me write it. I don’t know if that makes sense to you. I hope you are following me.

I know people that plan their writings, plan their poems, plan their posts carefully and to a “T”. I do not. I write poems especially as they come in my head. See, that is why it is therapy. You don’t plan what you are going to say in aa therapy session, do you? You just let emotions come as they come. I like rhyming and although poems don’t have to rhyme, I like the flow of rhyming. I like the correlation, like it connects the first line to the next. It is easy to read. It makes things stick in your mind. Like a favorite song verse or a saying that you’ve heard on the radio or someone has “YouTubed”.

Another thing I think about is, what my life will be in the remaining years I have left on this earth. I worry over things that have never happened, but could. I am sometimes a worrywart. I think of scenarios before they actually occur. I use my thinking to come up with a solution or way to handle things. I bet you all do that to.

I love to be able to express myself, express my thoughts, and share something that I think is important. Pain is the pen that helps me write. The point that it read by countless others, and perhaps shared with others, makes me feel blessed. We are given certain opportunities in this world. We can help others, we can hurt others, or we can hurt and damage others. What does your writing do?

There are so many facets of a person’s life. We can either deal with those facets or keep them or ignore them. Either way they will find a way to reveal the issues, or problems we all have. You can write or dance, or create, or do anything that will help you. We should not keep things locked up inside where it will cause damage. Then again, not everything is to be set free from inside either. We are complex creatures and our minds produce alot of funk that might be disturbing or scary to others. Our minds also connect with our feelings and not everyone will understand or accept your thoughts. That doesn’t mean you are not allowed to do whatever means you feels to help yourself. You should, because sometimes we are the only ones who can help us. Sometimes it is a necessary thing for us to take care of us.

As my life has had many ups and downs, many turn arounds, many smiles and frowns, your life does too. Give each moment of your life credit, give yourself a full life. Live and let live. Love and be loved. Where pain has been my pen, I am still happy in the end. I am still having a good life. I made it through many storms of life but I freed myself, God loved me more than I loved myself. That has been enough.

I shall see you all on the other side of the rainbow! MwsR

Image result for rainbow

I shall see you on this side of the rainbow~!

Sciatic Pain? Link Below

Recently, I have been having sharp flowing pain in my left side. I have tried everything I know to do, like changing my sitting positions to taking an inflammation tablet. I have looked up causes and treatments and will just say, “There is a number of ways to go about treating sciatic pain.” I am not a doctor but I frequently do my research on things and this one has me stumped. Instead of getting better this week, it has stayed the same, if not a little worse. Might be time to talk to my doctor about it. As with any medical issue you too should talk to your doctor before self treating. There is certain stretches you can do daily and see if it helps.

MwsR

https://www.sciatica-pain.org/

The Thought Of

You, by MwsR

There you are, in all your armor

Throwing daggers into open windows.

You care not for settling things

Or giving opinion to the heartache that you bring.

Why must one settle just to have you?

Like you would care, if that could ensue.

I don’t think much of the things that were told

Just your lack of concern and what made you so bold?

Worthless are the words,

Deliberate the actions, all of it absurd!

Spite can be given in foolish attempts

Smothered by someone’s contempt

Would had suited you better to run away

That is how cowards try to evade.

The hurt that you caused sank deep into the fibers

Nothing will ever be able to get those out.

I hope being satisfied made you a hero in your world

Because you can’t be anymore to us.

Your actions have consequences and reactions

Your time without any blame is gone.

Go ahead tell yourself it wasn’t you

But our whole family knows it isn’t true.

Blame another is you want

You’ll be the one who has to live without,

We surely won’t.

The thought of you brings sadness

Hopefully we all can escape this madness!

Poem

It
by MwsR

It walks with me,
Grabs hold gently.
Used to be like someone caged me
Sometimes it lets me free.
I carry it through conversations,
Long walks, and family invitations.
I put it to rest each night
Only to see it sometimes at first light.
Like shoes go on our feet,
It has a place, a name like a street.
When I revisit with my past
It is durable and there as if to last.
Familiar turf and strategic game
There is a part that will always remain.
Not everyone knows about it
Not everyone sees each little bit
The best one it possibly can be
It is the memory, the pain, the life, and me.

Poem by MwsR

Not right, not fair

Have I not always been there?

How come, why is that

You should not treat someone like an old hat.

Whose fault is it

Are you not to blame?

Why must you have to curse my name?

Did you forget it was me

Who loved you unconditionally.

What’s that you whisper

I can not make my feelings any clearer.

Of course, it is mute

I am the cracked flute

Still here but cracked by all your lies

All the deception,

I need a resolution.

Sooner, rather than later

Make me know that I matter

Tell me how important I am

Hurry, the door will slam!

Poem by MwsR( ME)

Knife
By MwsR

An old familiar song playing on the radio
makes me recall things that I had forgotten.
Like a bad odor lets you know something has become rotten.

Stares from recognizable faces
That look sudden, then turn away
Takes me back again into those childhood days.

Words with strong deliverance and demeanor
Those are the ones that I remember the most.
Just like a parasite that infects its host.

Nothing like those pain filled days
Where my last choice was just to leave.
I felt like a prisoner just granted a reprieve.

In one childhood I was made
In those minutes, hours, and days
I found time slowly pays.

If in this life all you are is based on the actions of others,
You will never really have a life.
Don’t let your memories be the knife.