All posts filed under: writing

I write because I think it matters

Recipe for Raw Grief

From the Kitchen of Theresa’s Heart Serves: One Ingredients: 1 heaping cup disbelief 1 tablespoon reluctance to say goodbye 16 ounces excruciating pain 3 cups brutal sadness 2 tablespoons confusion (substitute questioning) 1/2 cup constant obsessing 8 ounces anger (substitute feeling misunderstood) 2 teaspoons agonizing guilt 3/4 cup embarassment 1 quart lonliness Dash of untimely and needless Directions: Preheat oven to 1123 degrees. In a small bowl, mix disbelief with reluctance to say goodbye. Next, trim platitudes from excruciating pain and discard. use mixture to coat pain. cook in scalding cast-iron skillet until blackened. set aside. fill large pot with tears and bring to boil. Lower heat; pour brutal sadness into a pot and cover. Allow to simmer for weeks. When sadness is numb, remove from heat and drain tears from pot. stir confusion and constant obsessing into sadness and set aside. Use mallet to pound anger until tender. Cut into bit sized pieces. fry in pan over high heat with agonizing guilt and embarrassment. When anger turns red, remove pan from heat. Layer on the …

What I Thought I needed

I like rainy days because they don’t carry any weight to them It seems that the earth can just take a break and be without any expectations but to grow and nurture itself The flowers are blooming the way I imagine myself. Slowly- with a great silent effort, and then? All at once. “It makes me sad to think about how long I let myself suffer with the things that I have been through before I chose self care” – you were doing what you thought you needed. Today’s theme? Compartmentalization. What a word, safety net, and horrid space. For me? My go-to, certified A+, one way street to a coping mechanism that is a full proof and easy way to make sure you can walk through hell with a smile on your face. Put whatever happened in a box, seal it with a kiss, DON’T talk about it and NEVER look at it again. And there you go, you’re happy all the time because it just. doesn’t. exist. I’m on a bit of a …