"The Healing Journal is a way for me to feel my feelings and express myself through writing, often finding my words to be the lifters of creative blocks" - Blossom x
Here are some of the my entries:
It's nice to rest.
My story repeats itself. I’m vivid bright one day and then off to sleep again. And I rest. Though I didn’t know I’m this tired, I rest. I feel good resting, kinda achy but good allowing myself this time. Allowing myself to be down and weak. Like a mine worker I feel, who spent years working with stones and now is finally free of it. But he hurts and aches and can’t really walk. He worked relentlessly for so long carrying heavy stones and now needs rest and lots of it. This makes me think of Geralt in season 4 and his defeat at the hands of Vilgefortz. He had a hard time accepting that recovery takes time yet his body couldn’t move until healed at last. And I feel that as I go to sleep once again, I don’t fight it. I just am. Weak and tired and in pain. I don’t fight it. I just am. I need time and lots of it to recover from years of burnouts and heavy shit. My story is resting so it can have full power once again. I am my own person. I rest and I know that. Relaxing like a pro.
Blossom Hay
Rain.
Most people don't like it when it rains. But I find it soothing. At least for now. I'm like "thank God, it's raining again". I take a deep breath. I like when it rains because it’s like I see my inner child reflected in the London skies. And my child cries a lot and often and wants to cuddle up under a blanket and rest. So when it's sunny it feels like I'm expected to be happy because the sky is blue but all I really want to do is weep, not take the sun in, just weep away from it. And when it rains it's like my prayers have been answered for I can cry and rest, without anyone asking why I am that way. It's the rain. My pain is justified in their heads. And I can go back to crying and not being bothered to go outside. So thank you London skies for crying with me all this time. I really don't mind. At least for now. :)
Blossom Hay
Being with me is like an affair. 🥀
A connection so frightening. I am scared to be showing the world my true self. This goes against all my family members, the social norms, the job centre values, the ideas of work. This goes against being a woman because the tides that run this affair are unbelievably strong. Soul crushing. Unstoppable. I am not scared of them. I enjoy their growing speed and I sense them in my chest, no less. A turbulent waters crushing in a loop, destined for greatness and love. I love my affair. It feels so good. So good to be alive. So unbelievably good. Can’t say if I can keep it a secret much long. The waves are getting too strong, too prominent. I cry every time I write, mark my words. A connection so strong. I am powered by it moving closer to where I want to be. And I don’t want to be quiet in my new era of me. No. I want to be seen. I want to make dreams my reality and I want others to see. I want others to see my love for myself, how good I am when awake. A connection so unbelievably good, the world might just like it as I do. And if it doesn’t, I figure I will cry some more and make myself visible regardless since my tears make me glow. And with more tears there comes more light and I won’t be able to hide. A shining star.
Blossom Hay
Practical Princess Shoes Poem.
I don't want to walk barefoot.
I need some shoes.
I need them now.
To protect myself from getting hurt.
So I can walk away.
From this life.
From the pain.
Like a princess that I truly am.
Not the arrogant type.
Nor the Disney type.
But a human who was born pure.
Pure from pain.
Happy to be alive on this earth.
And taken care of.
Rather than abounded at birth.
A human who deserves to feel safe.
And sleep well.
I always liked the princess and the pea story.
Can’t remember the character well.
But I always liked the softness.
To be so delicate to feel....
Perhaps I didn't understand the story.
But I found something in it.
That kept me going.
To be so delicate to feel....
And all the privileges.
That would came with feeling safe.
"I wrote about practical princess shoes and I saw a small girl running barefoot, running scared and rushed, and hurting. Bleeding with every step. She was looking for her mama. She was looking hard. She looked for her mama in her cousins. She looked for her mama in her friends. She looked for her mama in her teachers. She looked for her mama in her aunts. She looked for her mama in her bosses. And she hasn't found her anywhere. She hasn't found her. She can no longer run. She just can't. She misses her mama, if there ever was one. She wants to find her but her mama is not there. She really needs her mama. She really needs her. Otherwise it's just her and she's so small. She doesn't know much else. Only that she's small and needs her mama and she's scared."
Safe to cry.
Safe to feel.
Safe to play.
Safe to experiment.
Safe to wonder out loud.
That is a princess life that I want for myself now.
I want it and I need some princess shoes.
To walk my way and give myself the life of a fairy-tale.
Blossom Hay
On consumerism.
Hundreds of images went through my brain. It was exciting at first. Now I feel drained. No results either to justify my pain. Just an endless stream of data clogging my cells. So I start to write to remind myself of who I am. I am not someone who needs a new jacket to feel well. I am not someone who needs any piece of clothing to make up for feeling less. I am not someone who can look through so much bullshit (jacket search or else) and not feel drained. The images, the data, take up too much space. So little is left to feel ourselves. Where is a reference for what's real in all this artificial mess? My want for a bright jacket is real so why am I left not feeling my wants, nor myself?
Blossom Hay
Play.
Do you know how humans heal and grow?
- Through play.
So, let's play football. You can run and tell me how your mother wasn't there for you. You can miss the score and cry in my arms. You can pass the ball along and leave the game if you want. Or you can keep running with the ball. I will run next to you. I will watch you play the way you can. I will watch you win and lose. I will be there. With you. Feeling your feelings. Feeling your pain. Listening to your shallow heartbeat and your heightened nerves. I am in love with you. I love seeing you play. With words and metaphors. Be that, your way.
Your fantasy footbal player - Blossom
Flying away.
Sometimes when I'm alone and not much is grounding me down it's just very easy to fly away. To cope. My usual way. Very automatic. Very detached from reality at my own request. It's a matter of an image and some music to keep myself way above the ground, and up there I dream, making up stories and lies. It's crazy easy to do that. And it's crazy hard to stop. Though it happens less and less these days. I used to be gone for days, now its few hours now and then. But still, few hours hurts. I am not gonna cry about it but every time I do that I lose myself. Again, at my own request. And sometimes really bad things happen and I'm easy on myself saying "it's ok, you can go up there", "I will be here, whenever you're ready to get back down to earth" - "Ziemia do Jagody" - I'll tell myself in polish, nicely, now and then. And I'm ok with it. I am. I don't wanna force myself to be here if it is too much. Life hasn't been nice to me for most of my time and I learnt to save myself that way. Up there no one can hurt me, nothing bad prevails. I just dream things happen and keep myself entertained. And to be here present is to feel so much and I'm getting better at that. One emotion at a time and it's manageable. Even nice. So I'm not gonna be hard on myself for disappearing today. I'm just glad to be writing this and letting myself know, that is all ok.
Blossom Hay
Chest.
Everyday I am struggling to feel enough. To feel enough to ask for help, always afraid that I haven't done enough. That I haven't earned anyone's help and I'm just anxious at the thought that someone will say "yes, you haven't done enough" and I will feel so bad. I'm already feeling bad and if I hear someone say it I just know I will fall apart. Though I can see myself getting up from that experience too, I don't wanna feel so shit that my insides twist and scream. An electric wave that lights up all the points that are just too fragile to not let the current grow. I'm in an emergency mode. The worst might happen and I choke on my own breath. Crying but not crying. I can't let it out and I can't keep it in. It's impossible. My chest silently screams.
Blossom Hay
Decisions, decisions (yes, I talk to myself)
I always feel rushed to make one. It stresses me out to feel that rush. And what if I don't know? What if I know but I'm afraid to make it? Can I please have time? To breathe. To feel the fear first and not act like it's not there. Because I am scared. Of many things. Of many nice things. I'm still scared. So please let me breathe. Not shove me around and push me like our life depends on it. Because it doesn't. I am not ready and you push me anyway with this stupid sense of a need to just do something, regardless of how I feel. And you know how I feel. You are scared of not doing things, you are scared of lying down but you won't be anything more than you are now. So please just be with me so I can learn to love that which I am and not hurt when you run around like I'm not there.
Thank you.
Blossom Hay
Crystal Clear.
It is crystal clear that I must start, crystal clear that I can strike and trust that what's on the other side of the clock will be the unfolding of a beautiful life.
My name is not ready yet, but here I am anyway allowing myself to discover it.
Tune in for a striking of a clock and lets cross the threshold together, through the clock that is, and into the land of dreams, where unicorns in human forms. ride free
You with me? I hope so x
​
Blossom Hay
New Beginnings.
Good cloudy morning to me and you. I will write a little bit about new beginnings and see where that takes me. and you :)
My story could be told in infinite of ways, the forever changing perspective makes me sensitive to something else. Every time I discover something new about myself, the story takes on new shapes. Shapeshifting was always a quality of mine. Into a place I went and little sense of who I am I had. The way I was wasn't me and the things I said weren't real. There were friends who I worry I hurt because the way I left a place was always sudden and cold. I hope this new beginning of mine, as I sit and write looking at the sky, is where I stay me, no matter the place, no matter the time. And the people I meet will get to know me. No disguise.
Blossom Hay
