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?