My Medicine


I’m finding myself writing and writing and I can’t stop.The pen I put down finds a way back to my fingers and won’t stop scribbling. 

My passions come out. My hurts splat on the paper like an old argument, squashed. No longer needing to be revisited. Here, on this page, anything is possible. 

Anything can be dealt with and everything can be accomplished. 

I can stand back and see viewpoints Ihadn’t  seen. I can deal with the hurt of the world. Because there is space. 

Infinite space to allow things to be and grow. 

I’m learning! It’s exciting! I’m growing! 

I’m allowing all my fucked-up-ness to be OK. I’m building on that and realizing that it’s not just OK, but it’s medicine I make to allow others to heal. It’s the medicine Creator has given me, to give to others. 

I’m all jacked up and I’m OK. 

I’m more than OK because I don’t have to spend my energy hiding all the hurts and all the imperfections. Now I can use my energy in other areas. I can use it for the things I’m passionate about, like showing up. 

I’m starting to show up. 

And God it feels good.

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