Sometimes I wake up and my right arm is frozen. Stoned. Cold. Numb. Throbbing. The pain, was it all mine? More growing. More stretching. More warming up of the joints.

When I was in 2nd grade I had my first pain crisis there. An overloading of sickle cells.

I held it. I held it. I held it.

It took my breath. I didn’t move it. If touched I winced. I was on fire. I wanted to heal it. The tears kept pouring. Somehow not enough to extinguish this hell. My soul kept aching. My mind kept wandering. Searching for relief. Swallowing tiny pills. Opioids. Tears streaming. Agony in healing? Agony in love?

Massaging. Rubbing. Crying. Laughing. Wishing I was in school with my friends. Wishing I wasn’t me. Wishing my life was different. Joann would call me. See how I’m doing. Tell me the gossip of what happened in school that day. Excused from homework. Excused from fun. So I held it. I nurtured it. I did my damnedest to hide it. I let my moans guide me to a better place. Self-soothing. Guided meditations. Medical studies. Hospital stays. Tiny. Skinny. Frail. I am 7.

Crooked deformed body. Where is grace? Bullied. Deformed. Hurt. Penniless attraction. Where is this value you talk about, oh god? Searching for wholeness. An empty vessel. Where do I go from here? Deep dark places. Delusional trances. Psychological fucks. Where is relief?

The doctor said I broke it. Totally misinformed because I never moved it. So I defended it. So I held it. So I fought for it. I hated it so much until the shame chipped away. Unbearable.

Prayer. If you are there, show me my first love. Answer. Self.

Oh, I used it. It fueled me. Big. Bold. Firm. I learned to push it out. Push-ups with my brother. I learned to stretch it out. Yoga. I learned to sweat it out. Boxing. I realized it was mine. So I gave it a voice. I allowed it to speak. I let it be free. And then...And then...I received the key.

Magic. Growth. Healing. Whole. Liberation.

In form, I am lopsided, I am uneven. In truth I am whole. A place where trauma subsides. Healing abounds. Confidence. Wisdom. Happiness. Affirming my own greatness. Never done. Never getting it wrong. I am 32.

Cells you create me. Very well. I am well.

Raw candids by Leesi Photography. | 100% Human shirt by Everlane.