Waterwounds @r-amblings - Tumblr Blog

Don't question the means, question the intent. If the intent is there, the means is not far behind

#spilled ink #spilled poetry #quoteoftheday #quotation #painful #cry for help #life quote

The painful side of pain

People say, it's tough to express pain.

So here goes, I have a gift. I can express my pain in words. Oh, and yes, I'm in pain, physical pain. 24/7, 365 days a year and lets not forget the 366th day of the leap year. The why doesn't matter, what matters is that the problem is irreversible, and by extension, so is the pain. I'm in mind numbing pain... All day, all night.. I walk in pain, I smile in pain, I talk in pain, I work in pain, I look after my child in pain, I play with him in pain, I write in pain. The pain consumes one side of my body.. From the base of my head (the constant headache is a result of that) to my little toe. So I favor the other side of my body and that again, causes pain there. Pain and I met many years ago and over time we became good friends. With each passing day we grow closer and closer, probably a day will come when I'll won't say "I'm in pain," I'll say "I am pain". Pain racks my body, keeps me awake at night, gives me lot of time to think and create worlds within worlds in my head.

Have I tried therapy? I've done everything from therapy to Quackery. Did it help? Yea, some didn't, some did a bit, some helped a lot (I'm so thankful to you madam and so may others who have gone beyond their way to help me deal with my pain). The one common thread was ...they all hurt. Not just a little, they hurt a lot. So one take away, therapy to alleviate pain is painful.

So am I pain free? Far from it.

So is there any good thing that I can write in this extremely depressing piece?

Oh yes..

1. I have come to accept the pain..My tolerance of the pain comes from accepting my pain. I have come to accept that this maybe with me for the rest of my life. Our friendship is strong some days we are closer than ever.

2. I have gained lifelong relationships because of my pain. My pain has helped me support those who suffer the same and are unable to voice it. Some professional relationships have now become lifelong friends, all thanks to pain.

3. I understand pain, and that has helped me understand and appreciate other's suffering. Those that go beyond physical pain. I would never have been able to do that, in a very real practical sense (as opposed to the theory) had I not been in pain.

4. My child has come to understand and accept me with my pain. He's seen me in tears, he's seen me shake, he helps me take my medications, he is practiced at the art of distraction as a method of reducing pain, he gives me a massage if he thinks I'm. In pain, he helps my husband give me a massage..all at the age of 4. I think (I pray), this exposure will help him grow to be an empathetic kind human being who knows pain even when it's hidden under multiple layers of humor.

5. I have come to understand the hand of God in my pain. All those who pray for me pray for healing. I go a step beyond and pray for the ability to bear it, to increase my tolerance to it. The more I can bear, the lesser it becomes. So many times, too many to count, when I have been at my lowest, help just magically appears, even when I haven't asked for it. My maid walks in with veggies from her garden when my fridge is empty. My neighbour gives me soup on the day I'm craving some warmth but too sick to cook. My neighbour's daughter comes over to take my child over to play (he ends up spending the day there) on days that I do not have the physical or mental strength to deal with reality. I have countless examples of out of the blue phone calls, prayers, church friends chipping in, I can go on and on. If that's not the hand of God then I don't know what is.

Pain, in my experience, has been a curse that has turned into a blessing.

#spilled ink #prose #spilled writing #spilled prose #painful #spilled words #essay #writersofig #writersofinstagram #written episode #writerslife #writersofindia

https://link.medium.com/5oqJ734sKib

#carpe diem #change #fearful #dreadjourney #yesterday #today #typografie #spilled ink #spilled poetry

https://instagram.com/stories/auntykahoji/2638704768255846349?utm_medium=share_sheet

#myself #spilled poetry #showerthoughts #independent

The strength of the lost, the battle to be found

I'm fighting a losing battle

I give my all to you in the present

But I can't compete with your past, of the one you've lost.

I'm fighting a losing battle

I crane my neck to be found,

In the sea of the memories of the one you've lost.

I'm fighting a losing battle

I'm trying to make my presence felt,

Amongst the absence of the one you've lost.

I'm fighting a losing battle

And am constantly at a disadvantage,

Amongst the advantage of the memory of the one you've lost.

And although I'm fighting a losing battle

I'll keep fighting,

Yearning to be acknowledged,

Yearning to be discovered,

Yearning to be found,

Yearning to be loved, almost, like the one you've lost.

#poenoftheday #spilled poetry #poetry #musings #showerthoughts #spilled writing #spilled words #spilled thoughts #spilled ink

The house

"What time is it?" asked the broken clock. "I'm not sure, but its still daylight, looks like the sun is setting", replied the tattered curtain. "Why, Are you expecting guests??" snickered the dusty chair. "It's not like we have a feast laid out", added the three legged table. " Our only visitors are the critters and the dogs!" chipped in the creaking floor boards. "Ah! If only the walls could speak, the tales they would tell" said the termite infested door post, which once very proudly held a heavy ornate oak door. "Well, we can, you know" replied the walls. Dust rose from the peeling paints. It was streaked brown and green with moss.

"Do you wonder where Mr and Mrs S will be now?" Asked the stairs, or rather, what remained of the stairs.

"We all know where they will be..dead, that's what!" Replied the chair, who was always the most cynical of them all.

"Doesn't matter", said the clock who was missing both its hands. "Its not like anyone's coming back for us". The cuckoo that was hanging from the rusted spring piped, "why should they? Who wants to live in such a place?? Its not like we are in the middle of the city or anything."

It was true. The dilapidated mansion was in a picturesque village, in the middle of mango, and coconut fields. It was surrounded by pepper vines and home to beautiful birds and colorful creatures. The fireflies glowed at night like little fairy lights. But as time went by, it was all that remained. The family moved out and moved on to "greener" pastures.

"Well they did promise they'd come and visit", said the door post that still held on to the fading scratches of the growing children.

The walls spoke, "promises are meant to be broken.

Do you remember, the family dinners and the festivities we'd host year on year? Now we are a feast..to the elements!"

The curtain fluttered in the cold breeze where once a stained glass window stood. "Its getting dark now. Let's rest while we can. Its gonna get busy soon."

Soon the house would come alive again. Not in the way it once was. Though in a sense it was home, even if only to the creatures of the night.

#story #storytelling #spilled thoughts #thoughts #writing #spilled writing #spilled words #spilled ink

Tomorrow's today

The doorbell rang. I knew who it was and dreaded opening the door I also knew I had no choice. Tomorrow was here, again. Just when today got familiar and I was beginning to settle down. Now I'd have to begin all over again and today would be yesterday and I'd look back and sigh and wish for yesterday.

The doorbell rang, and I decided to embrace tomorrow..for a change.

So tomorrow became today, and I was happy, surprisingly, because I realized, I love today. And I spend so many todays living in yesterday that I didn't see today go by.

#tommorow #today #spilled thoughts #seriosly though #thoughts #spilled writing #spilled ink

Basket of beloveds

I carried my basket of beloveds

Careful, treading lightly so as not to tip it over

I had decided they'd be first in my heart, forever

So I did what I did, to avoid upset.

Then along the way, we met

You came along with your basket of beloveds

Beloveds come first, you said

I agreed and walked beside you

You reassured me you'd be there

I promised you I'd not get in your hair

We started to talk as we walked

I saw that you deserved a spot

In my basket so loved

So I arranged and rearranged

And you became part of my lot

Carefully carried, through paths with danger fraught

Before long, I started to lose my way

My basket began to sway

It didn't tip over, thank God for that!

I wondered why that came about

And I realized, much to my dismay,

I had started to stray

I reached out

Looking for a steady hand

Reassured that you'd be there

Then I heard you say

Beloveds come first, I'm sorry

There are things that are beyond my control

And for you in my basket, there's no role

My basket and me, we got to roll

So this is goodbye, we got to go.

I wish I could say

That after today

I'm older (from hurt), and wiser

And maybe I'll remember

Beloveds come first, always.

#poems #poetry #spilled writing #spilled poetry #beloved #starlit poems #starlitpoems #typography #poetselixir #new poets society #poemsofig #poems on tumblr #my poems

Basket of beloveds

I carried my basket of beloveds

Careful, treading lightly so as not to tip it over

I had decided they'd be first in my heart, forever

So I did what I did, to avoid upset.

Then along the way, we met

You came along with your basket of beloveds

Beloveds come first, you said

I agreed and walked beside you

You reassured me you'd be there

I promised you I'd not get in your hair

We started to talk as we walked

I saw that you deserved a spot

In my basket so loved

So I arranged and rearranged

And you became part of my lot

Carefully carried, through paths with danger fraught

Before long, I started to lose my way

My basket began to sway

It didn't tip over, thank God for that!

I wondered why that came about

And I realized, much to my dismay,

I had started to stray

I reached out

Looking for a steady hand

Reassured that you'd be there

Then I heard you say

Beloveds come first, I'm sorry

There are things that are beyond my control

And for you in my basket, there's no role

My basket and me, we got to roll

So this is goodbye, we got to go.

I wish I could say

That after today

I'm older (from hurt), and wiser

And maybe I'll remember

Beloveds come first, always.

poemswords

just-4-thought

I know enough of love

to know it never means quite the same

each time it transpires.

And I know the depths of pain.

I know what lovers mean when they stand at the altar and say:

“In sickness.”

“For poorer.”

I’ve seen them eat those words –

serve them up in chemo pills,

lonely infusion rooms.

The intern in fresh, blue scrubs

bringing around a soggy sandwich for lunch

Yes, I know.

I know what it means to stay

When everyone else has walked away.

I know what it means,

how hard it can be

to shoulder the burdens

of another.

So easy it would be

to just walk away,

but I know what it means

to stay.

And this new medicine takes my hair by the fistfuls.

And this old illness still clings as I age.

And you there,

hand in mine

At the wig shop –

no money to spare.

You see,

I know enough of love.

Sometimes I wonder if my madness is a cause of my Pain or the result of it

Ruth cresting on pain

#showery contemplation #shower thoughts #showerthots #thoughts #spilled thoughts #seriosly though

vacantinkandprettypink-deactiva

“We kids, in our desperation to love and be loved, reach for the wrong things, reach for sex, hoping to forge an artificial emotion connection from spillover highs of physical intoxication, only to leave empty-handed in our ignorance.”

— V.I.P.P.