Accidental Shame

She felt shamed. Almost stupid this time. As her head swam, one thing was clear, it happened again. How did she let this happen AGAIN!? She hadn’t moved off the couch to do much of anything all day due to the pain in her left shoulder. She had complained about it throughout the night. And all she longed for was sweet relief. Thank God her doctor increased the dosage of her muscle relaxer last week. But sometimes what’s good ain’t good for you.

When it was about time for her nightly meds, she thought about the cold medicine and ibuprofen she had taken a few hours ago. She reached for her pill organizer and dumped the four and two half of tablets in her hand and popped them in her mouth like she did every night. But she spit the extra half of muscle relaxer out because she decided to wait to take it in about an hour or so. The second Netflix movie she had chosen to watch was halfway through. But she was in the middle of the third before she remembered to take the extra half.

She instantly felt different. It seemed in a matter of seconds, she felt as though she had been roofied. The room swirled. Her forehead felt heavy as a brick. She kept falling forward. Not again, she thought, Jesus, please don’t let me die. Silent prayers soon turned into a plea for her mom to call 911. The EMS was only a few minutes away.

The EMS driver was the rude guy who had taken her brother to dialysis many times. His countenance was holier than thou and he always carried himself like he was too good to walk in their house. Out of sheer ignorance and belittling, he asked the question, “Why did you call the ambulance, ma’am?” Though her speech was slurred, she managed to murmur, “Something’s not right”.

Through her lethargy, she could see the disdain on his face and in his actions as he made her walk or stumble outside with no assistance from him to the stretcher outside. Yes, OUTSIDE! Had she been herself, he would’ve been cussed out. In her altered state, she could only manage to sarcastically slur, “What, am I sitting up front with y’all?”, as she stumbled through the kitchen and out the back door.

Even as she lay on the stretcher, the whole world started to spin and she felt herself losing control. What in the world was happening? By that time, she couldn’t put together one single intelligent thought. She tried to answer their questions but what she wanted to say and what came out her mouth were two different jumbled things. She faded in and out of consciousness as they rushed her to the nearest hospital.

Being that she came by ambulance, she went straight back to triage. Those attending to her were three busybody, gossiping, young nurses who were complaining about administration. The one in charge talked loudly at her. Through her fog, she was able to briefly stay awake and her chest felt heavy. She was being shocked away either by the irritated nurse yelling that she needed to stay awake to answer her questions or the sound of herself snoring.

Although she felt no sense of time, on the clock it was just after 3:30 am when they told her she was getting an IV and fluids. They were taking blood and needed a urine sample. Never had she ever had so much trouble giving a specimen! She tried several times for over an hour. Finally, the nurses took urine through a catheter and left her alone. She fell asleep.

She woke up two hours later. The IV fluids finished and she had slept off most of her overdose. With her head somewhat clearer, she spent the next forty minutes calling for a nurse who never appeared. Her dizziness was wearing off. Finally, a nurse came in to check her vitals and a doctor soon followed. He said she had taken a little to much of her medicine but offered no other information or solutions. As soon as he spoke those words, she instantly felt ashamed. She knew better than to not pay more attention to the time between meds and to never mix medications. She had been doing it for a while with no problem until tonight.

She was released home with paperwork stamped, Accidental Overdose. Her momma wouldn’t be able to take losing me like that. I hate those words. Accidental overdose. Those words were stamped on her oldest son; my oldest brothers death certificate. I can’t allow those words to take me too. I’ve got to be more careful. I’m not trying to leave here before my time. I can’t do that to my family!

Everyone makes mistakes. Most of us are ashamed of some of the mistakes we have made. The only way to stop repeating them is to learn from them, change the behavior causing them, and don’t get so stuck in your shame, that you can’t move on. Life is hard. We all are struggling. Let’s reach out a hand to one another.

This is why I share my experiences such as this, to let someone know they are not alone. And to let them know they can recover and move on as long as they move differently. I have a set time for my day and night meds. If I’m two hours off I will not take them. I’m also not taking Ibuprofen anymore. I am making an ENT appointment next week for my allergies.

I pray all those who struggle with chronic pain and/or drug dependency find just one person to talk to and rely on. We can win the fight if we fight together. Contact me anytime here, through my email (, or on IG @my_poetic_life_. I will be happy to be your person.

@vfurrmstheblogger#accidentalshame #accidentaloverdose #mypoeticlifebook #mypoeticlife


It’s been seventeen years since my divorce. We were young, too young to get married. As a result, we spent nine years together only to grow apart. My spouse didn’t know how to truly love someone and I didn’t know how not to. So you can see how I was on the receiving end of most of the hurt. But you do not see the rationalizations while in the midst of tribulation. Neither of us could see we were not “evenly yolked”.

I take that term to mean three things. One, evenly accepting of Christ upon entering matrimony; two matched to suit one another’s wants and needs, and three have the same love for one another with the ability to express it. I have no doubt that we loved one another back in the day, but as I search my memory to find the exact moment it all went wrong, I cannot.

Did we fall out of love? Grow apart? Cause irreparable damage? Or All three? Perhaps, I don’t know. I do know that we both changed from a loving young couple to a broken rendition of who we once were. Although I’ll honestly feel like I loved him with all my heart then, I can’t say how he felt. I can only speak for myself. And that right there is where closure comes in.

For some reason, I want to know if he ever loved me. Through nine or ten years of our young adult lives, did he have true feelings for me or was I something he “won”, so to speak, like a teddy bear at the county fair? I’m definitely no Miss American, but I was no troll either. So, what motivated him from the very beginning. My virginity? My unavailability as men saw me? Or did he want to get to know me? Was it love at first sight?

For me, I took one look into his pretty brown eyes and I just knew he was my Mr. Right. We were no longer the kids struggling through high school together. We were passionate young adults. It wasn’t about what kind of man he was growing into or the woman I’d become because I was satisfied with the fact that I felt love at first sight.

I thought I was grown. Grown enough to know what love was anyway. Fresh out of the confines of our childhood home, while we were un-attaching ourselves to that which bound us, I unconsciously was searching someone else to cling to. I latched on to him for dear life. No matter what he did wrong or what anyone else said, I wouldn’t let go. At least not yet. This cost me much happiness, love, and eventually my peace of mind.

While trying to reconcile some months after our divorce, he asked me to teach him how to love. I was empathic to him then but now I wonder. Did he actually not know how to love me? Or, was he saying he never did? Was our life together based on a lie? I do overthink things but when it comes down to it, this is all I want to know. t would help that small place in my heart still holding a torch for him to completely heal. Whether his answer is yes or no, I’ll know and I’ll have my closure. Do we really need these answers to be whole?

My advice for those going through this or something similar would be to dismiss the need for closure. The truth is you probably will never get it from your ex-partner and that’s ok. Don’t feel as if you can’t be whole until you have closure. I’m speaking to myself as well. Closure should not be the thread that sews your heart back together, growth should. As you move away from the need for closure, think about how YOU can make YOURSELF happy. In reality, in my case, it’s been over a decade and a half, I have love in my life, peace, joy, and most of all God. I claim my heart and life back! That’s my closure. Let it be yours as well.


#vfurrmstheblogger #closure #claim your life back #mypoeticlifebook #mypoeticlifethebook

A Day in the Life of a Fibromyalgia Warrior

Today is a good day to blog about this topic. Fibromyalgia is a chronic pain disease that affects the nerves, soft tissue, ligaments, and muscles, causing widespread pain. With me, I hurt every day and I battle with what referred to as, a flare. Some sufferers only have flares and others are somewhere else on the pain spectrum.

I’ve found that most people who don’t suffer from this disease have no clue what it is or what it feels like. I’ve experienced myself and heard from others that family/friends say they’re faking and don’t hurt as bad as they claim. This belittling of our battle only adds to our pain. Still, I wouldn’t ever want anyone of them to know how this feels. It saddens me to know that nowadays most people say they know a relative or friend who has Fibromyalgia.

In this post, I’m going to attempt to explain how I feel today. At this very moment, I’m in pain from head to toe. I feel a sharp, gnawing pain between each vertebra in my neck and stiffness, pain in my collar bone, where my shoulders meet its socket, in my biceps, and my fingers as I type this, in my sinuses, my lower back muscles, my sciatic nerves, in my lower stomach muscles, hips, thighs, calves, ankles, insteps, and toes.

Because these areas have been in a pain flare for several days, there is painful swelling in every joint. Due to the pain in my stomach pressing through my ribs, at times it’s a little hard to breathe and difficult to speak. My voice is heavy. I’ve wakened up these last two days with one of the worse migraines I’ve ever had. I have another migraine right now.

All of this going on, which, before this year, would’ve had me confined to the four walls of my bedroom until I could walk again without cringing. Because of this, I am considered disabled and unable to work. Usually, I would call my doctor for something to get me through. He generally calls me in four days worth of a strong dose of Toradol and Zofran. But this year, I’m trying to fight and be braver than ever. So I didn’t call him.

Instead, yesterday I took the box braid out of both girls hair +my 6 and 7-year-old nieces), cooked dinner, did the dishes, mopped the kitchen floor, and cleaned the bottom of the refrigerator. All of which I paid for upon rising this morning. The pain which is still in the same areas is worse and burns in some spots. But I managed to clean the kitchen and wash two loads of clothes, clean up the living room, and go to Play rehearsal tonight.

Through my tears, I’m pushing myself harder than ever. With Fibromyalgia, you have to know your body, listen to your body and adhere to your limits. Tonight, I feel my body screaming for me to stop. After 20 plus years of suffering, I’m finally choosing to become a warrior instead of a victim. In order to do so, I can no longer be complacent. I have come to the realization that I have not been living, but simply existing. I have got to take back control of my life.

Yes, I’m in a lot of pain, yes I’m tired, and yes I’ve cried a tear of agony today. But I am the only one that can change me. So I’m going to take it one day at a time, one step at a time, and try to live a better life through my pain instead of because of it. I know I need to rest and I will. I know I must take care of myself to stay healthy and out of the hospital.

It’s hard having a disease nobody can see just by looking at you. It’s even harder living with this disease that some doctors still don’t recognize as being real. It’s important to have a few good, dependable people in your corner. People who know your heart, who’s seen you at your worse, and will listen to you without judgment when you just need a shoulder to cry on. I thank God for my few.

The purpose of this blog is not to complain but to shed some light and lend a voice to Fibromyalgia sufferers. This is my attempt to explain how some of us feel during a flare because each case is different. My experience differs from that of my older sister, my uncle, my brother, all who have this awful disease. Perhaps, someone reading this with use empathy next time they see their family member or friend who fights this disease daily.

What I readers to know most is that our lives are racked with pain, filled with depression, fatigue, and a host of other compounded illnesses. And our lives are also filled with the will, strength, love, hope, and the determination of a warrior. Don’t give up on us. We need you, family and friends. My motto in this life is to always be kind and giving because you never know what the next person is going through. Stay blessed.


@vfurrmstheblogger #mypoeticlife #fibrowarrior #fibromyalgiaawareness #fibromyalgia #adayinthelifeofafibromyalgiawarrior

There is No Safety in Numbers

My entire life, I never longed to be rich, gorgeous, or popular…the only thing I wanted was to feel safe.

No amount of riches measured up to safety. The type of safe where the walls are so high no one dared to climb them and so thick they were impenetrable.

The kind of safe that kept me protected and untouched as the world went on around me and as I maneuvered around it.

I forever crave security because as a forgotten child, I was overprotected, and unnoticed from a mile away in every direction

Still, I wanted to hide constantly and longed to be seen always but not for who I was forced to be but for who I truly was.

I felt like it was my cue, SHOWTIME! Is this mic on?

In all the protective embrace I received, I remained afraid to breathe, to grow, to move, to step outside my comfort zone.

So now I’m grown, I’ve raised mine through the fear which plagued me. I protected them.

Made sure they wanted for nothing. I wanted them to have and experience all the things I did not.

I thought for years I kept them safe from harm, hurt, fear, pain when they weren’t safe at all; I wasn’t safe at all

They are full of hurt places, holes as adults that Momma cannot fill. I see their struggle and can’t breathe.

It’s on me! They’re unsafe within their sense of security.

Perhaps they will be blessed with the safety that protects because there is no safety in numbers.


Fear of Death

The sudden death of our neighbor has my heart sick and sad. Just a wonderful, helpful, kind man gone in a flash. It’s got me needing to vent. So here goes.

As a child, I never experienced losing anyone. Of all that I had to fear as a girl, death was not one of them. I didn’t realize how blessed I really was. At 19 years old, my family was sideswiped with the terminal illness of my father. Even then with death imminent for him, I was spared that sinking helpless feeling death leaves for 16 1/2 years.

The first huge death I experienced was my Aunt Gwen in 2005. I was really sick and she would talk to me on the phone for hours and pray for me. What I didn’t know was she was doing all this for me from her sick bed. We had grown extremely close even though I never laid eyes on her in life. I remember feeling completely lost without her and if it weren’t for my mom making me feel so close to her big sister, I wouldn’t have made it. I couldn’t see myself getting that close to any other Aunt or relative again.

Slowly as my dad fought through double pneumonia, high fevers, and sickness, we lost a lot of his relatives over the years. When my dad passed in ’09, he unknowingly lost all but two of his ten siblings. By 2010, death was a familiar adversary. I stopped going to funerals because I didn’t want to see any more relatives put in the ground. Death hung over us like the plague. My family suddenly went from being known as strong to weakened by harsh losses. Let me go back.

In January of 2009, we had no idea our family would be so broken before that Fathers Day in June. My Daddy died March 23rd, on the morning of his 68th birthday, my oldest brother died three days before Father’s Day in June. Broken we buried the head of two generations and picked up most of the bigger pieces of our lives and moved forward. Then as we clung to our wounded hearts and learned to do so many first without my Daddy and brother, my Poppy died at 92 years old, three days before Christmas. We ended 2009, minus three generations of men who had led our family. From that year to this one, I must admit, I’ve been afraid of death.

No one will ever understand how much love and respect I have for my mother. She endured losing her husband; the love of her life, her first born son and her father, blow after blow after blow, three months apart with her head held high. Her heart was broken but she never tilted her crown. Not even once. She’s always been praying women, wife, and mother. She took our family to grief counseling and stayed committed to getting her remaining children through the worse year of our lives. If I can be half the woman she is, I will be enough.

March of this year, my Mom passed out at home, I was so terrified of losing her. All I heard my brother say was passed out, and stroke. Thank God she was ok. Meanwhile, in the last two years, she’s nearly lost me twice. Even though I am afraid of losing anyone, it seems like it’s me and her against the world, so to speak. I have two sisters out of town, and one sister and one brother in town. We are blessed we still have one another. But growing up under circumstances that weren’t the best, has divided us in such a way we do not know how to fix it.

For this reason, I don’t open up or let many people in. If I do, you’ve got to be ready to ride with me. My life feels full of holes, but thank God my momma taught me how to sew. As I spent this year mending my life and healing my soul, I can only pray that those select few in my circle know my heart and understand me beyond my actions or words, straight down to my spirit.

Also, I know there is no fear in God, so somehow I’ve got to get past this fear. I’ve worked through a few of my fears successfully, I.e. social phobia, agoraphobia, germs (lol), others opinions of me. I know that since I was able to handle those, I’ll get through this too. I think about fear all the time. Mostly how far I’ve come but then how scared death makes me.

But I know God will bring silver about linings somehow. Such as my brothers passing has brought me closer to his older children. As they had children of their own, they ask me to share things about their dad. I know their dad, grandpa, and great grandpa are watching over them all.
Death is a sad subject, one which I, personally, don’t take well. I am working on myself and I know God is not finished with me yet.

In loving memory of my Aunt Gwen, our three generations of men Arthur Furr, Sr., Arthur Furr, Jr., and Luther Clemons, Sr., and our neighbor Chief Deputy Harry Montgomery, our protector and friends who always looked out for us!

(King James Study Bible)

Letter to My 22 Year Old Self

Dear Val,

You have made one of the biggest decisions you’ll ever make in your life marrying at a young age. Believe me, when I say, you DO NOT know everything there is to know about life, but your mother has a pretty good idea. Listen to her. You love this man but your definition of love and his definition differs greatly. A big part of him needs to learn how to love from you. Teach him.

You have to prepare yourself for the rises and falls that come along with marriage. If you are not strong and stand up for yourself as a wife and new mother RIGHT NOW, you will go through more mental and emotional pain than you ever thought possible. Don’t be afraid to confront what is making you unhappy. He has already begun to disrespect and loosen the marital ropes. Stop him by using your voice now. Never stay silent when you hurt.

You have a habit of taking pain in, letting it build up, then exploding like a ticking time bomb. Doing this over and over will make you physically ill. Stress will make you physically ill. If you want to change the course of your life from being ill, miserable and eventually unhappy then you must seek God and let go of your childhood fantasy of what is your idea of marriage. Your idea is not reality. He needs a strong, Godly woman to steer him away from the worldly things and the streets.

YOU can’t change him. Do not try. Only he can change himself. Whether he believes it or not, he has become an alcoholic and been consistently unfaithful. Lead yourself to the Lord. Then ask the Lord to lead him to God. Together you two can completely alter the crash course your lives are on now. Always communicate no matter what you are going through.

There’s no guarantee that you will not still become ill with fibromyalgia because of your childhood. But if you do, you will be equipped to fight. Please never give up on yourself! It will only lead to sadness, depression, loneliness, and addiction. If in fact, fibromyalgia still finds you, he is only at fault for the wrong he does and the stress he will cause, with no regard, behind his actions that exasperates your illness.

Love Always,



*Below, explains what your life will be if you choose not to fight, do not become a strong Godly woman, give up, and do not stand up for yourself from the beginning.*

You will have two months of what you think is marital bliss. Then you will experience hurt to your core time and time again. Your husband’s actions will make you believe you are not beautiful, you are a burden, you are lazy, you’re not enough, too plain, not hip enough, unable to fit in; you are not necessary, unloved, and unworthy of love, unworthy of anything. Unfortunately, you will believe all of this!

I want you to know that you are gorgeous, you’re more than enough, you’re perfect just the way you are, you fit in just fine, and you are worthy baby girl. Understand that what someone else thinks of you isn’t gospel. Stay in your head and keep your opinions of yourself high. You know what I mean by that.

You will endure years loneliness, and cry many, many tears out of your love for him. You will sink into depression and become addicted to pain and migraine medication. You will attempt suicide twice and have two nervous breakdowns. Your illness with be compounded with stress induced seizures.

You will experience betrayal in the worse of ways and still love him. Two years before the end, there will be an ultimate incident that shall, for the first time, make you lose respect for him. Your love is going to begin to waver. Like the first crack in a windshield, others will follow until it is broken beyond repair. He’ll be too busy growing out of love with you to even notice. Nine years will have passed.

By the time you decide to divorce, you are no longer you. Everything that made you who you were, you gave to him. Now, you find your self only describable as an empty shell of a woman. You will drive back home to Alabama, broken, used up, emotionally depleted, mentally unstable and sicker than you will ever be to date. But STILL, you hold on to the hope of the thought that you left with the best parts of him and yourself, your two children.

Heed my advice now. Get God in your life and as the foundation of everything you do. Do not put yourself through unhappiness or torture. Love is not supposed to hurt. Just because you love someone doesn’t mean he knows how to love you. You deserve better. Better may be a better him or someone new. You deserve a chance at complete happiness. Believe it or not, at this point in your life, as you are right now, you’ve never experienced it.

No matter what Val, never lose your love for you! Keep loving everything that makes you, you. That’s the only way to hold on to all those things inside yourself that were lost. You are beautiful inside and out. You are worthy Val! I let you down then, but I know if given a chance to do it all over again, we would do it differently. You saved him over and over for nine years, it was time to save you. Stop questioning that and completely let go!

Love Always,



Closure is often a necessary vice. I thought I needed to have a face to face conversation to express my feelings. Hopefully, through these words, I’ll have it now. Honestly, I forgave him years ago, so I don’t feel animosity toward him. With the anger gone from my spirit, when I see him, it’s nothing but love. I truly wish him happiness. And it feels good to exhale.

Finding Religion: Do You Believe in God?

For the last few months, I must admit that I have felt very disconnected from God. I am usually a spiritually motivated individual who is the one on Facebook posting the religious quotes. But lately, I have had questions about my faith, peace, and the Bible. You see, my father who was a Baptist minister turned semi-atheist before he fell terminally ill in 1993. I think he was disappointed in himself to some extent and in the hand, life dealt him. He decided to question God’s existence, instead, because his plans for his family’s future never worked out.

He would begin sentences with, “If there was a God, then why…”. But I never stopped believing. I sort of ignored his talk about the non-existence of Christ and I was only a child then. But recently, I have been feeling so lost that even the Bible makes no sense to me. I have had little peace as well. When life has been so difficult that you have lost your peace of mind, something has to change. So I went on a journey to ease my spirit.

I will never disapprove of or hate on how anyone chooses to practice religion. I think religion, like most intimate issues, is a personal choice. During this time in my life, I had walked away from my the church I called home for almost nine years. My wonderful Pastor stepped down and a new Pastor came in.

On his first Sunday preaching at our church, he didn’t sit well with me. In addition, he brought his congregation with him which left no room for us few remaining loyal parishioners to have any say as to how OUR church was run. I’m one of those people who if you rub the wrong way, I completely dismiss you. But believe me that is nearly impossible to do but he managed it well.

Anyway, I spent my Sundays wherever my daughter and the University of Alabama Afro American Gospel Choir traveled within city limits. She was a second Soprano/Alto and member of the UA’s HIP (His Instruments of Praise) praise team. After she left for Hawaii to be with her new husband, and my son moved into the dorm, I took a huge break from life in general. Both my children who had been my life were gone out into the world without me. God was still blessing me but all I saw was what I felt…loss.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago. It’s now 3 1/2 years later. I’ve been without a church home the entire time. I felt distant from God’s presence before, but never like this. I believe I explained it best in another blog by saying, it feels as if I’m at a concert in the midst of hundreds of screaming fans and I’m trying to get the singer’s attention. But I can’t get close enough for them to hear me. I feel like I can’t even touch the hem of His garment right now. So because even my praying seems to fall short, I decided to try another way to reach God.

I have a friend who is deep in the Muslim faith. She along with a Buddhist instructor gently guided me into the practice of Nichiren Buddhism chanting. I researched the culture and history of Buddhism but I couldn’t help hearing the voices of many Pastors, including my dad, saying, we do not worship objects. Still, my search for inner peace had me curious enough to continue. In the movie ‘What’s Love Got To Do With It’ Angela Basset and Lawrence Fishburne portrayed the iconic Ike and Tina Turner. In Tina’s quest to take back her peace she began practicing the Buddhist chanting Nam Myoko Renge Kyo.

The first night of my chanting, I focused on sleep because I was suffering from insomnia for a few nights. During the chanting, I fell asleep. I didn’t make it the recommended five minutes. I was encouraged. But the more I read and learned about chanting, the further I felt from God. Let me explain. I wanted to focus on getting closer to God, but I wasn’t chanting to Him. Buddhist chant to a blessed scroll called the Gohonzon. They chant for the things they want, need or desire in their life.

Although I was told I could practice my faith and chant as well, the Bible teaches to worship only to God and not objects. I wasn’t comfortable because I have used prayer my entire life and watched God work. I felt like to pray to God and then chant or pray to the Gohonzon was not fully placing my faith in God’s ability to work in my life. My spirit wouldn’t allow my mind to continue to practice Nichiren Buddhism. To be completely honest, and this may not be right, but I felt like I was cheating God. I felt guilty.

At heart, I’m simply the daughter of a Baptist minister and a member of the Church of God in Christ. I’m grateful for the opportunity to learn about Nichiren Buddhism and see how it works for others. Through my journey to find peace with Nichiren Buddhism, I rediscovered my love for Christ and found the peace for which I was searching. I know, personally, that I am on the right path for me.

God knows my heart and even brought our previous Pastor back into our lives. We now have family prayer every night. So for me, I’ve chosen to discontinue chanting. Instead, I am continuing to pray, praise and worship to strengthen my faith and move closer to God. I do, however, still have questions concerning the Bible. I plan to get my hands on an original copy before translations and in the meantime ask God for wisdom, knowledge, and understanding of His Word.

It never hurts to try to find peace or happiness by adding to the way you worship. But if what you choose to do, doesn’t sit well within your spirit, it probably just isn’t meant for you. I think it is necessary to believe in something greater than yourself. Discover for yourself how and why are we are here on Earth. What is next for us? Whether you believe in the universe, Buddha, Allah, Jesus, God, or whomever, follow your faith to answer your questions.

I’ll never tell someone their faith is wrong UNLESS your faith tells you to hate or look down upon another faith or others. Life is hard. We need to be spiritually sound to survive. I know from experience that I would rather live my life believing and worshipping God, die and find out He doesn’t exist; than to live my life not believing/worshiping, die and find out He does. What do you think? Do you believe in God?


#findingreligion #doyoybelieveingod #daughterofabaptistminister #cogic #afroamericangospelchoir #mypoeticlife #mypoeticlifebook

Each Day Has It’s Trials; What’s Today’s Trial(s)?

Each day we go through different trials simply because we are human. Most people can’t just sit down beside a family member or friend and open up about that particular day’s upsets or problems. That’s what weekly therapy sessions are for, right? Well, most people don’t even want to go to a therapist because of society’s stigmas placed on mental health. I’ve learned over the years, that like most internal turmoil, its better out than in.

This blog acts as my therapy session and you, my readers, are my therapists. Now don’t think I’ve never been to a psychologist. I spent the better part of my 20’s “lying on someone’s couch”, so to speak. Now at 45, I can actually see where all that talking and being listened to and validated helped, but I can also see where omitting my childhood issues did and did not. I still have a hard time talking on that subject even though it may have contributed to the cause of Fibromyalgia.

I digress. Today’s issues deal with this enormous amount of fatigue I’m feeling. Have you ever been so physically tired that even sleep escapes you? If not, God has blessed you. If you have, that’s where I’m at now. But it’s not only that. I’m emotionally exhausted to the point where thinking about anything exhausts me. What to cook for dinner, when to wash my hair, calling someone on the phone; the little things mentally make me feel as if I’ve been through the same traumatic event every day for the past month. It’s hard to describe. But try to imagine that if you will.

In this state, nothing makes direct sense. You have to think about simple ideas for a minute before they register in your mind. My words are jumbled. I can’t complete a coherent thought or sentence aloud without stopping to think of the word or name I’m trying to use. I don’t dare try to remember my lines for the upcoming play I’m in when I’m like this because I can’t keep anything in my head. Basically, my mind has shut down on me as much as my body has.

There are times that I wish I had one person, (along with my mom), who I could depend on. Not only talk to but depend on the way I allow others to depend on me. It would be easier I think, to get through times like these. My mom has been there for me and has seen the destruction that this disease has caused in my life. But she’s up in age now and it’s my turn to be there for her. So what do I do when I’m having bad weeks with no rest?

I pray, of course, joke around and use laughter, try to rest, push myself to my absolute limit, and go to the doctor. Yesterday I decided to just get rest. I shut down everything and everybody. I begrudgingly said no to request so I could time for myself. I prayed that God let me rest long enough for my body and mind to reboot. I hoped to feel better and I do. Prayer works y’all!

I will always feel fatigued. I suppose that’s why it is called Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. But I’m glad that my family understands now. I live through my faith. That’s a beautiful place to be when you’re chronically ill with no cure in sight. But as bad as that sounds, I don’t give up anymore. Believe me, there have been moments when I have.

I just believe God has a purpose/purposes for my life. One of which is to write about and share how I get through living with Fibromyalgia. I really want to reach people not only sufferers but their families and friends. We cannot get through the effects of this disease without a village. At times when I feel defeated, my small village really keeps me going.

So, for now, I am looking to the Lord and thanking God for my village. It’s sad but people will completely turn their back on you when you first get diagnosed, during your fight, and at times when you feel better. Yes. I’ve had people get upset because I don’t feel as bad as I used to. But I don’t get upset anymore. I just understand that they don’t understand and it’s okay.

Google can teach you anything you WANT to know. And it’s okay if they chose not to learn about it. I’m still going to be alright, trusting in God, and leaning on those who lean on me. I believe what I was taught in Nursing school has some merit; healing is 10% body and 90% mind. I’m working up to that 90% every day. What’s your trial today? How are you working on your healing? Let’s talk.