Wednesday, January 8, 2014

An Open Letter To God

Dear God,

Why does my body have to be so broken?  What did I do to deserve this?  I've tried to be a good person all of my life.  Heck, as a freshman in high school I was even given the nick-name of Little Miss Sunshine, because I'd walk around with a smile on my face all of the time and be friendly to everyone.  I was a cheerleader, but it didn't matter what circle someone ran in, I was ready to give them a smile and say "hi" to them.

Throughout the years, I've met several young adults through my kids that weren't lucky enough to come from good homes.  I've done all I could for them.  I've even taken a few of them into my home putting a roof over their head, feeding them, and tried to be a positive role model for them.  I cared about them as if they were my own children. To this day, they still call me "mom" when they see me. 

I've always loved old people and animals.  Still today, if  I'm in a store and pass someone elderly, I can't help but to smile at them.  I've been known to stop my cart in the middle of an isle, and carry on a conversation with an elderly woman if she responds to my smile with a question or statement.  When I was doing my nursing clinicals and was doing my geriatric round at nursing homes, I had an elderly lady with apraxia that knew I'd be there on Thursdays.  She would be waiting at the front door when I got there.  Greeting me with a kind, sad smile.  She was my shadow throughout the day, and I'd talk to her between residents.  As the day would ware on, she'd start to get agitated and tear up.  When my shift was over, she'd follow me to the door holding my hand, crying, and shaking her head no.  Giving her a hug and promising her I'd be back, my heart would be breaking.  I never once saw a visitor come to see this woman.  I'll never forget that poor, beautiful lady. 

I could go on and on about the gentleness of my heart dear Lord, but you already know all of this.  You know what kind of person I am, so why; why am I stuck in a broken, useless body?  Why am I stuck in this life of hell?  Shouldn't that be the punishment for a bad person? 

I have so much that I would like to do with my life.  I have hopes, and dreams.  Desires.  Wants and needs.  I've never asked for much out of life, dear God.  I've never been materialistic. I wasn't the type of wife that would whine if I didn't get a gift on a holiday.  I never asked for flowers or complained that I didn't get a vacation. 

I do want the basics in life though.  I'd like to be able to work, for both the money and the social interaction.  My broken body has taken that option away from me though, and the mental constraints of living this way has become completely unbearable for me today.  I just don't know what to do any more. 

Loading the dishwasher earlier, has me sitting here fighting back tears.  For once, I allowed a few to fall today.  A person becomes mentally tired of being in so much pain.   Of trying to stay mentally strong day after day.  I'm sitting hunched over, to try and help with the pain.  It doesn't relieve much, but I just can't sit totally upright. 

The arrearages from child support are finally all paid off.  Now, I don't have any income what-so-ever.  It's gone.  I can't get food stamps, because once I lost my employer health insurance through my husband when he left me, I had to leave my rheumatologist.  She didn't take the insurance I then had.  As it turns out, no rheumatologist anywhere near me took it.  If they did, they weren't accepting  new patients.  To be eligible for food stamps without working, you must either be on disability, or your doctor must write a note stating your condition, that you are unable to work, and how long your condition is expected to last.  My family doctor won't write one.  She said she doesn't know enough about fibro to know if I truly can't work or not.  So, when my old note from my rheumatologist at the The Cleveland Clinic expired, I was just done. 

I've applied for disability.  A year and 7 months ago to be exact.  I was turned down on the first application, and the appeal.  I'm still waiting for my court date to go before the judge for my final appeal.  Today, I've lost hope.  Hope for everything.  Hope is the word I live by and you all see so often in blog posts from me, but I'm just done for right now.  I don't know how I'm going to buy essentials such as laundry soap and toilet paper, let alone food or to pay bills.

Oh, if only could just go out and get a job.  I truly want to work.  I've lost close to 51 pounds and my clothes are too big.  The other night, every time I'd turn over in bed, my pj pants would twist and come part way down.  When I walk, my pants sag.  My shirts are all big, so it kind of disguises the weight that I've worked so hard to lose.  Being single and having grown kids with their own lives, I crave social interaction with other adults.  My online friends and support is wonderful and I'm so blessed to have every one of them in my  life; but I need to talk to real, in person adults too.  I need to be able to get out of my house and have a purpose each day, dear Lord.  If I can't even do the basic household chores myself though, how in the world could I ever work a "real" job? 

Fibromyalgia, severe arthritis, DDD, COPD, depression, diabetes, IBS (the list goes on & on) has robbed me of a real life.  A good life.  A normal life with any quality to it.  This is no way to live, dear Lord.  Why, why has my body failed me?  Why do I have to be so broken?


  1. "Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time, 7 casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you." 1 Peter 6:6-7.

    I don't have the answers. In fact, this is the first time I have ever even been to a Fibro blog. I have told myself for years (diagnosed in 2001) that I am OK...doing just fine...it will be better tomorrow. Over the last year, I have slowly felt worse and worse until I could no longer lie to myself. Out of nowhere, a dear friend asked (trying to understand the pain), "can the pain be rubbed out by massage," and I broke down as I admitted to my friend and myself, at long last, that the pain will never go away. After I actually said those words out loud, I decided to seek out others who also face this terrible disease. Yours is the first blog post I have read.

    So, why do I say that and why did I post the scripture? Well, I said the previous so you know I am new to even talking about this with others. (I know...you would think after 13 years I would have talked. I actually tried to a little at first but no one understood so I shut up.) I wanted you to know that I am new to this in case I say something wrong. The scripture came to my mind after reading your post. You humbled yourself and cried out to God. I firmly believe that God will never leave us or forsake us. You cast your cares on Him and He hears you! The hard part is that we aren't promised healing on this Earth although it does happen. We are promised healing in Heaven. BUT...I believe God has heard your cry and will bless you for humbling yourself before Him (and the world via this blog). After all, if you can still have faith after all your struggles, should the "normal" people have all the more?

    Now, unless something befalls me other than this fibro deal, I am only 41 with a lot of life left. I am a single mother of two children ages 9 and 13. I work full time because I get no support from my ex...long story that includes I make more than him and he made me set the papers up to show he keeps the kids more than he really does or he would really try to keep them more just so he wouldn't have to pay me anything. I hurt every single day of my life. I wake up so exhausted that all I can think about is surviving the day and getting back into my bed. I want to wake up and feel good! I don't want to tell my kids, "no, I'm sorry but mommy doesn't feel like going out to do something this weekend." I push myself to try and not say things like that to my kids but, lately, I am failing. I too am broken. I have lost hope.

    I want you to know that I read your post and prayed for you. For me. For all of us that suffer from Fibromyalgia and the injustice of it robbing us of our lives. May God show up in a mighty way in your life!

  2. Oh...and my crazy profile picture (which I didn't really think about until it posted) is from a "radio adventure from the 30s" brought to life that I did several years ago. As we know, back in the day, the women were always the damsel in distress (as I am in this photo). But, looking at it, I kinda feel all tied up in the pain waiting for the bomb to go off so it works! :)