Broken

Hopefully you have a hobby or outlet that helps in your journey of trying to pull you through any struggle, whether it is tough times in your life, health issues, etc. Some of you know I tend to write poetry and am very big on my journals. During the most difficult of times in my illness, I would sit and think of how I felt, how my family must feel, and start to write. My poetry collection is starting to pick up however it halted for the last few months.

My coming forward with this is just a way to say keep doing whatever keeps your spirit alive. I allowed depression and focus on my pain to keep me from writing. I had told James several times that there were no words coming form my heart and I had not written a poem for months. "One liners" have come to me, which I jot down but just a big block in my mind and heart.

Today as I was reading through my journal I found something I ever noticed before but loved seeing how it changed my heart. In my journal, I wrote on Dec. 26th, "Celina told me she thinks I should work on my poetry. I think she is wise". Then the next page in my journal was a poem I wrote on Dec. 27th....and I wrote this poem without Celina's advice in my thought process. I needed "my therapy" and on 12/27 I was up all night, unable to sleep. I had ulcers all over my tongue, and I started to obsess over them. Then I went to the computer at 4am and wrote the following poem:

(This poem is about the countless doctor's I've tried to explain my body's message, counselor who I had built much faith and fondness for but "she" revealed her true self, and hired psychologist, by private disability, for hidden agenda's to disprove my body's voice).

Broken

Mind, Body and Soul need to be together

Without them balanced, you are a meaningless token

Every storm big or small you cannot weather

You continue to fall but hope you won't end up broken

In front of them all, like presenting to a jury

You expose all, expecting something in return

Justice, Sympathy, Integrity, Humanity

And when that fails, you feel it as a personal burn

You seek answers from prophets of God

"Patience, that which you wish for is coming"

Over and over "patience" is drilled into the head

Now 20 years later, what should you be feeling?

Therapy reveals to you what you reveal to it

You try to get help and in return are struck down

In my face you spit

Your faces may smile at me but your souls frown

Illness struck the body mind and soul

You added insult to injury

Knowing me was not on your schedule

Next I'm accused of perjury

So stand up, don't stay broken

Every day trying to find your legs and their strength

Seems they are weak and lack desire for walkin

By now, you know there's another kick in the ass comin

The next day after writing this poem, I found out:

1. I was scammed $6500 on my credit card - still trying to resolve

2. Medical drug insurance coverage was halted and $400 worth of meds still waiting at the

pharmacy

3. Went to refill my Darvocet - found out that FDA pulled it from US - now illegal

4. Missed my doctor's appt that I had waited 3 months for...I have never missed appt with

this doctor in 4 years. I was so sick I couldn't hardly get out of bed for 3 days. Now

the doctor can't see me for another 3 months.

Sometimes, despite how negative the poetry seems, it is truly my therapy. My daughter is wise and I now feel the inspiration to write again.