https://www.facebook.com/770521276135457/

The Healing Pen, Parker, CO (2026)

01/14/2026

The Veil
When clarity finally exposes what affection kept hidden.
I ignored the red flags because I wanted to see the good in her.
People warned me. I made excuses.
Every win of mine had to be minimized.
If I bought something, she had it years ago.
She called my things cheap, yet quietly went behind my back to buy the exact same things and visit the same places.
My joy was never allowed to exist without competition.
She only reached out when she needed my help.
Not to check on me.
Not to celebrate me.
Only to collect.
When my major breakthrough finally came, I called her myself.
She never knew I was pursuing it.
Instead of being happy for me, she grew distant.
Then angry.
Then she cut me off.
That reaction lifted the veil.
Some people are comfortable when you are trying,
but get uncomfortable when you arrive.
They do not mind your struggle.
They mind your success.
I did not lose a friend.
I gained clarity.
Not everyone deserves front-row access to your life.
Sometimes God removes people not to hurt you,
but to protect who you are becoming.
Growth does not change people.
It reveals them.

12/23/2025

When You Don’t Recognize Yourself Anymore 🤍
There comes a moment when you look in the mirror and the person staring back feels like a stranger.
Not because you lost yourself overnight, but because life has been taking pieces of you quietly, little by little.
You try to remember when the light in your eyes softened, when your smile stopped reaching your soul, when survival replaced joy.
You think of the woman you used to be.
The one who laughed freely, trusted deeply, and believed that love would never cost her her peace.
The one who spoke her truth without fear and rested without guilt.
Now you find yourself holding back tears in public, crying silently in private, and carrying strength that no one sees or applauds.
You mourn the parts of you that had to go quiet just to stay safe.
You grieve the dreams you postponed, the voice you swallowed, the softness you hardened to survive.
Some days, you barely recognize your own reactions, your own silence, your own patience with pain that should have never been yours to carry.
Yet even in this unfamiliar reflection, there is proof of endurance.
There is a woman who stayed when everything in her wanted to run.
A woman who kept going on empty, who learned to smile through ache, who chose to protect others even when she needed protection herself.
You may not recognize yourself right now, but you are still here.
Breathing. Hoping. Becoming.
And one day, slowly and gently, you will meet yourself again.
Not as who you were before the hurt, but as a woman who survived it, healed from it, and rose with a deeper strength and a quieter, unbreakable grace. 🤍

12/21/2025

Silence as a Learned Defense 🤍
Some of us didn’t choose silence.
We learned it.
We learned it in moments when speaking up made things worse.
When explaining ourselves led to arguments.
When our feelings were dismissed, ignored, or turned against us.
So we became quiet.
Not because we had nothing to say,
but because silence felt safer than honesty.
Silence became protection.
A shield.
A way to avoid conflict, rejection, or disappointment.
People often mistake this silence for strength.
For maturity.
For emotional control.
But inside, words pile up.
Unspoken needs.
Unexpressed hurt.
Conversations that never happened.
Silence keeps the peace on the outside,
while chaos grows on the inside.
This doesn’t mean silence is wrong.
Sometimes it saves us.
Sometimes it gives us space.
But healing asks a gentle question:
Is my silence protecting me, or is it hurting me?
When the time feels right,
you are allowed to speak.
You are allowed to take up space.
You are allowed to be heard.
Silence helped you survive.
But your voice will help you heal 🤍
#

12/21/2025

Pain That Shows Up as Anger 🤍

Not all anger is about being difficult or aggressive.
Sometimes, anger is grief with no safe place to land.
It is pain that waited too long to be acknowledged.
It’s the weight of being unheard for years.
The exhaustion of always explaining yourself and still feeling misunderstood.
The ache of needs that were never met, words that were never spoken, wounds that were never tended to.
So the pain changes its language.
It becomes sharp.
It becomes loud.
It becomes defensive.
Anger shows up because sadness felt too vulnerable.
Because fear felt too weak.
Because silence was never enough.
People see the reaction,
but they don’t see the buildup.
They don’t see the nights you swallowed your tears.
They don’t see the times you chose peace over honesty — until peace became too expensive.
This does not excuse hurting others.
But it asks us to look deeper before we judge.
Behind most anger is a heart asking to be understood.
A soul that has been carrying too much for too long.
If you’ve noticed anger rising quickly lately, pause.
Not to shame yourself — but to listen.
Ask gently: What part of me is still hurting? What pain have I been ignoring?
Healing doesn’t begin by silencing anger.
It begins by understanding the pain beneath it.
And when that pain is finally given words,
anger no longer has to scream 🤍

12/19/2025

Pain That Shows Up as Anger 🤍

Not all anger is about rage.
Sometimes, anger is pain that never felt safe enough to speak.

It’s the frustration of being unheard.
The exhaustion of carrying too much for too long.
The hurt that was dismissed, minimized, or ignored.

So it comes out sharp.
In raised voices.
In quick reactions.
In words spoken from a wounded place.

People see the anger,
but they don’t see the grief beneath it.
They don’t see the fear.
They don’t see the unmet needs.

This doesn’t excuse hurting others.
But it invites us to look deeper.

Before judging the anger, ask:
What pain is trying to be heard?

Healing begins when we stop fighting the emotion
and start listening to the wound 🤍

12/17/2025

✍🏽 From Survival to Freedom 🤍

For years, I believed strength meant surviving at all costs.
It meant smiling when I wanted to cry,
holding it together when I wanted to fall apart,
and carrying pain quietly so no one else would see.

That “strength” became my armor.
People admired it, praised it, even envied it.
But inside, I was exhausted.
The weight of surviving alone was heavy.

One day, I realized: survival is not the same as living.
Strength without healing is like running on empty.
You can keep moving, keep performing, keep looking “okay” —
but freedom lives in the moment when you stop pretending.

Healing teaches you to put the armor down.
It teaches you to feel without fear,
to speak your pain without shame,
to allow yourself the messy, imperfect human experience.

Freedom begins when survival ends.
And that freedom? It’s worth the discomfort, the fear, the tears.

If you’ve been surviving instead of living,
give yourself permission today:
You are allowed to stop pretending.
You are allowed to be honest.
You are allowed to be free 🤍

12/17/2025

✍🏽 When Smiling Became Survival 🤍

There was a season when smiling wasn’t joy.
It was protection.

I learned early that breaking down made people uncomfortable.
That explaining my pain took too much energy.
So I smiled instead.

The smile kept the questions away.
It kept me functioning.
It helped me survive rooms that didn’t feel safe enough for honesty.

People praised my strength,
not knowing that strength was just pain with good manners.

I laughed while carrying weight no one saw.
I showed up while falling apart inside.
I became really good at looking okay.

But survival isn’t the same as healing.

One day, the smile grew heavy.
And I realized I didn’t want to live my whole life pretending anymore.

Healing began the moment I allowed myself to be honest.
Not with everyone — but with myself.

If you’ve ever smiled just to survive,
know this: you were doing the best you could with what you had.

And when you’re ready,
you’re allowed to put the smile down 🤍

12/16/2025

I’ve learned something quietly painful.
The people who go through a lot don’t always break in public.
They hold it together outside. They smile. They survive.

But when they finally feel safe…
when they’re around the people they love or who love them,
the weight spills out.

Not because they don’t care.
Not because they are ungrateful.
But because that space feels safe enough to fall apart.

Sometimes the frustration sounds like anger.
Sometimes it looks like distance.
Sometimes it feels like hurtful words.

It’s not the love that’s the problem.
It’s the pain that was never healed.

This doesn’t excuse hurting others.
But it helps us understand it.

If you’ve been the one pouring out pain,
or the one receiving it,
pause tonight and choose gentleness.

Healing begins where understanding lives 🤍

12/15/2025

Hidden Pain 🤍

Some people are hurting so quietly that even they don’t realize it.
They wake up, smile, show up, function… and still feel heavy inside.

Hidden pain doesn’t always cry.
Sometimes it laughs too loudly.
Sometimes it gets angry over small things.
Sometimes it shuts down when love comes too close.

Hidden pain is the child who was never heard.
The adult who learned to survive instead of feel.
The heart that was hurt so deeply it chose silence as protection.

You may not call it pain.
You may call it “that’s just how I am.”
But the truth is, unresolved hurt has a voice.
And it speaks through your reactions, your distance, your tone, your walls.

It shows up in relationships.
In the way you push people away before they leave.
In the way you mistrust even good intentions.
In the way you struggle to receive love without suspicion.

This pain is not your fault.
But it is asking to be seen.

Healing does not begin by pretending you’re okay.
It begins the moment you gently say, “Something in me is hurting.”
Not to blame yourself.
Not to judge yourself.
But to finally give your heart permission to breathe.

If this sounds like you, know this:
You are not broken.
You are carrying wounds that were never tended to.

And wounds heal when they are acknowledged.

Tonight, pause for a moment.
Ask yourself gently, without pressure or shame:
“What pain have I been hiding, even from myself?”

This is a safe space.
You are allowed to feel.
You are allowed to heal 🤍

12/15/2025

✍🏽 I Almost Quit… But I Couldn’t Stay Away 🤍

For the past months, I’ve been off this page.
Not because I didn’t care.
Not because this space stopped mattering to me.

The truth is… I really wanted to quit.
I tried to walk away.
But the more I tried to quit, the more I realized why this platform exists.

This page was created for people like you and I.
A safe space where we can rant without shame,
cry without explaining,
draft our thoughts without fear,
and receive encouragement when our strength feels low.

Being away reminded me how much this space truly matters.
How necessary it is.
How healing words can be, not just for others, but for me too.

I’m truly sorry I left.
And I’m back now — fully present, with a deeper understanding and renewed purpose.

I pray that God will use each and every one of us to be a source of healing within The Healing Pen Movement.
That our words will comfort, uplift, and restore hearts that need it most.

Thank you for staying.
Thank you for believing in this space.
Let’s continue healing together, one word at a time 🤍

12/15/2025

COMMUNITY GUIDELINES

A Gentle Note for This Space 🤍

This page exists to offer comfort, healing, and encouragement.
You are welcome to share, vent, and express yourself here.

A few gentle reminders to keep this space safe for everyone:

• Be kind — to yourself and to others
• No judgment, shaming, or harsh words
• You are free to share, but please protect your heart
• This space offers support, not professional counseling

You don’t have to explain your pain to be valid here.
And you don’t have to be “fixed” to belong.

Let’s hold this space with care, empathy, and respect 🤍

10/30/2025

I have been off social media for over two months now, but scrolling through the feeds, one story caught my attention,and it broke my heart. It was the story of a beautiful girl whose life and dreams were cut short by those she trusted the most.

Her name meant “God’s gift.” Elizabeth Ochanya Ogbaje was a bright, gentle girl from Benue State Nigeria who deserved every chance to learn and grow. Her only “crime” was wanting to go to school, to learn, to grow, to become a force for change like Michelle Obama,Amina J Mohammed,Leymah Gbowee ,Hillary Clinton Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala,the late Dora Akunyene, Melinda French Gates, Jacinda Ardern,Malala Yousafzai,Oprah Winfrey, Aisha yesufu Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Thunberg, Natasha Akpoti Lovers (NAL) ezekwesili ,Malala Yousafzai, Angela Merkel, Tsitsi Dangarembga, and countless other women who inspire the world.

At just five years old, her parents sent her to live with her aunt and uncle, believing she would have a better education and a brighter future. Her uncle, Andrew Ogbaje, was a senior lecturer in the Department of Catering and Hotel Management at Benue State Polytechnic, Ugbokolo in Benue State. and her aunt, Felicia, seemed a nurturing figure. Her family trusted that she would be safe, but they were tragically wrong.

By the age of eight, her cousin Victor began molesting her. When his sister caught him and reported it, their parents only scolded him. Soon after, the uncle who was supposed to protect her allegedly joined in the abuse. The very people who should have loved, valued, and protected her became the reason her dreams were cut short.

For years, Elizabeth endured unimaginable pain in silence. She continued attending school, holding on to hope for a brighter tomorrow, even as her home became a place of fear. By thirteen, her body had been irreparably damaged. On October 17, 2018, Elizabeth passed away. But in truth, she had already died a thousand times before her last breath, betrayed by those she trusted, failed by those who should have protected her, and silenced by a justice system that moved too slowly to save her.

When her story came to court:
• Her cousin Victor fled and has never faced trial
• Her uncle Andrew was acquitted due to insufficient evidence
• Only her aunt Felicia was convicted, and only for failing to protect Ochanya, not for the abuse itself

For many, this verdict was another betrayal, a painful reminder that children like Ochanya are often left voiceless even after death.

Yet, Ochanya’s story continues to shine. Her name and legacy inspire conversations about child protection, sexual violence, and the urgent need for justice. Activists, organizations, and communities continue to fight, not only for her, but for every child who cannot yet speak.

Every October, when her story resurfaces, it reminds us that her life mattered, her suffering mattered, and her memory demands action.

Elizabeth’s light shines on in those who refuse to let her story fade. We carry her legacy as a promise. We will not stop until justice is served. We will not forget her name. Her light will never go out.

💔🕯️

The Healing Pen

01/14/2026

12/23/2025

12/21/2025

12/21/2025

12/19/2025

12/17/2025

12/17/2025

12/16/2025

12/15/2025

12/15/2025

12/15/2025

10/30/2025

Address

Telephone

Website

Alerts

Contact The Organization

Shortcuts

Share

Category