The Pain oh the pain

I have had many trauma's in my life, and we won't visit them now. But to say the least, praying for God's  intervention , was a hard thing to continue doing. Now I do believe in God, but the God I grew up with, was a harsh one, who was quick to punish but we were reminded that he also loved us. But we were never shown that love. So every time something really bad happened to me, automatically started looking for what I did wrong, what sin did I commit. I really wanted to live the right way, God's way.  

When I first became aware, I wanted to die. I could see no future for me. No hope, no reason to want to live.  I had such horrible pain and they couldn't find out what what was wrong with me. I was carrying  PTSD from past traumas.  This place has no mental health options for the residents. I was very despondent, I just wanted to die. Everytime I ate, I was in more pain, so bad that I couldn't get relief.  I called 911 and was taken to a local hospital where they finally gave me oxy and it helped enough to bear it.  I do believe they thought I was looking for pain meds. After doing my research to see if I  could find out something using my symptoms. I did go through every imageable test available with NO answers.    I narrowed it down to the pancreatitis, the gall bladder had already been removed, and I couldn"t get an appointment to see the gastrologist for 4 months.  All the time praying for relief, pain to go away, to die, Just to help me for me to get thru this. I felt so abandoned, I was not used to being dependant. I wanted my independence back, and it was looking like that was NOT going to happen. Working hard on not being mad at God.  So I reminded myself, that God gave this world to Satan.  Of course he doesn't want God's family to be happy.  I still have questions as to why me?  Why me, wish I could get an answer.  I was very happy on the hill and in my little house with my dogs and geese and little chickens.  I had independence, I came and went when I wanted, I answered to no man. Took care of myself and finally was happy. NO more drama, it was peaceful and quiet.

Then my son tells me I have to live with them and that they are giving my little car to the grandson. I really felt that I was dying and wasn't go to get better. It wasn't discussed with me, or my opinion needed. I need my independence back.  I have to have it back.  Without it, I have NO value, no purpose in life.

I started this yesterday and I just got to tired, of writing and trying to deal with the emotions that were coming up.  And I was getting really angry.  I am having a real hard time reconciling where I am today and losing everything.  How does that equate with God? At least when we lost everything in a house fire, there was insurance money to get us started again and I had my health. To trust that God is working this out, is hard. Cause I can't see a future at this time.  Although when this all started, I didn't think I would ever walk again.  Or to be able to care for myself.  But to what end.  I refuse to live the rest of my life in a nursing home.

A good thing tho, The wonderful cook here, Thomas tries hard to see to it that I have food I can eat. And I had leftover fried chicken from yesterday.  He has make me quesada's,  He is a real treasure to this place and me.  

I really want to go back to my little house.


 

     

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