Releasing Pain Through The Pen

Sitting here sweating from having another nightmare that I been having since I was younger. When I was younger and the nightmares came I used to sit in my closet in the dark, it was my escape , and my sanctuary. Back then, it was the only spot I felt safe to write and cry without fear of being overheard and punished. Now I'm grown and this pain I feel is still an unbearable ache in my heart and spirit. The pain is so intense that it consumes me because I never fully unpacked my childhood wounds and scars. Leaving me sitting here in the dark questioning why everything good always seems to turn bad. I got up and pulled my notebook and pen from my bag. Writing has always been my outlet the one place I could put my pain into words. As I hold this pen in my hand it feel light and almost weightless, but it holds so much power.

The only thing I know how to do is write, because as growing up my diary became my bestfriend holding all my hurt and secrets. I am tired of carrying this pain, tired of the ghosts of my past following me around everyday like my shadow. I’m tired of being haunted by the things I can't change. The only thing I know how to do is write, because as growing up my diary became my bestfriend holding all my hurt and secrets.

Dear God, where were you when I needed you the most, crying out to you every night? Especially when I messed up and it became a routine. My life feels like a book judged by its cover, never truly read to understand the depths of my soul and the pain I carry. Dear Mom, I remember the joy I felt when sharing my goals and dreams with you, but you never really listened to or motivated me. Was it because you didn't believe in me or didn't love me enough? All I ever wanted was for you to love me like a mom should. The way you loved that man or my little brother, but neglected me, broke my spirit. Every night, I prayed to God to touch your heart so you could love me, your firstborn, and be proud of me. I became rebellious to get your attention, but it went wrong, and you turned your back on me.

I struggled every day to keep faith, but how can I have faith when I had no hope? I'm so overwhelmed with pain; I want to get it off my chest but can't find my voice. I let my pen do the talking. My anxiety hinders me from speaking about my pain. I wish the Devil would stop riding my back and let me be at peace, get some rest, get out of my head, but I let him defeat me. I have been searching for help for so long, but nobody listened. I became emotionally detached from everything, numb to life. The only person who listened, protected, and motivated me was taken away brutally by the Devil. WHY?

This made me shut down even more, hard to breathe and sleep, suffocating every day. I'm in a spiritual warfare with my spirit and soul. Now that my dad is gone, I feel so alone, crying in the shower to disguise my tears. I was always told not to cry, that crying shows weakness. I'm tired of struggling with unseen wounds from past hurt and present memories. I want to surrender it all to God, but the Devil keeps playing with my mind while the Lord pulls at my soul to restore it. This spiritual warfare is overwhelming me. I'm silently hurting, yearning for my mother. I want to ask her WHY? When I think of my dad and look at his pictures, it sends me on an emotional rollercoaster, and I can't stop the tears. I wish he hadn't left me in this crooked world to deal with this silent pain alone. I have people around me, but I still feel so alone. When I look in the mirror, I silently cry because I can't see my soul anymore, only pain and anger. I want to sleep, but nightmares suffocate me in pain. This weight is unbearable, but nobody understands the war I've been fighting. I want this pain out of my heart because it's turning to rage and hatred. I just want to be happy and broke rather than rich and unloved.

Every day feels like a battle, a relentless struggle to find a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness. I yearn for a sense of belonging, for someone to truly see me and understand the depths of my pain. The weight of my past mistakes and the scars of my present haunt me, making it difficult to breathe, to find solace in anything. I long for a moment of peace, a respite from the constant turmoil that consumes my mind and soul. The Devil's grip on my thoughts is suffocating, but I refuse to let him win. I hold on to the faintest flicker of faith, hoping that one day, I will break free from this cycle of despair.

During this spiritual warfare, I find strength in my vulnerability. I refuse to let the pain define me, to let it consume every ounce of my being. I am determined to rise above the darkness, to reclaim my life and find my voice. I will no longer be silenced by fear or doubt. I will confront my demons head-on, armed with the resilience that has carried me this far. Though the journey may be arduous, I believe that there is light at the end of this tunnel. I will fight for my happiness, for the love and acceptance I deserve. And one day, I will look back on this chapter of my life with pride, knowing that I overcame the seemingly insurmountable and appeared stronger than ever before. I understand the pain would always be a part of me. I just realized that it that it can only control me if I allow it to. So I chose to shape it, put it into words, and make my pain my purpose.

Written By Nikita Mahone