Laundry: A Sea of Honey

Laundry: A Sea of Honey Word count: 162 words

18 and Pregnant

https://hello-wall-hormonal-heart-poetry.blogspot.com/2026/03/the-bath-as-i-slip-under-chapter-1.html

I grew up in a world where my body was something to be managed by others — pushed, prodded, checked, moved, without explanation. A body treated like laundry: lifted, sorted, folded, dealt with. No one asked if I understood. No one asked if I agreed. My body was a task, not a self.

And yet inside that same body was a sea of honey — warm, slow, golden. A place that belonged only to me. A place no one ever thought to ask about.

Years later, I learned the word for it: agency. The right to know what is happening to your body. The right to choose. The right to say no. The right to be spoken to, not handled.

Laundry is the outside story — the practical, the physical, the endless doing. A sea of honey is the inside story — the softness, the ownership, the quiet truth that my body was always mine, even when the world forgot to treat it that way.

First Mammogram mid 20's

(I am dyslexic and I have ADP - the blog post is here some where, your gonna have to scroll ) 

Footnote -

Magical thinking

It’s believing what I’m told even when there’s barely any information, because of the uniform, because I’m pretending I’m the confident voice, because I’m the one with the best mask in the room — APD — so I’m not really taking the information on board. It’s that ND instinct to anchor myself to whatever looks solid.

But that’s how I get hurt — stung — and left standing there not knowing what to do with it. Because I trusted , held my mask, the authority, the performance. And when it slips, I’m left with the shock of realizing the story I built doesn’t match what’s actually happening.