Archive for Poverty

Noonday Demons

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on July 14, 2018 by Her Broken Wing

The disease of addictions steals, it robs and it destroys. It sucks any and all resemblance of life as we know it.

Andrew Solomon’s book Noonday Demons describes the absence of depression is vitality. I have strived most of my life for some sort of normalcy but due to the fact I have never had that (normal), I did not know what to look for or feel. I would not know if life was ordinary or not as my striving for life I had wished for would ever seem on some occasion—attainable.

But today, the Sun arose once again as it faithfully does every day. Its warmth and penetrating rays, however, could not reach me. My world goes cold.

Even my bones are cold. I shiver to stay warm still on the hottest day of the year.

The arid pain blurs my desire to move, to breathe—the involuntary muscles of my body are now an agonizing effort. My world goes cold.

As in Harry Potter’s Dementors – “it sucks out all the happy-all the good memories are gone…” such a life and her circumstances.
Days become weeks, weeks become months and eventually the months become years. My years pass by. I am saddened by the darkened area I live and its daily dance of the Sun’s silhouette as she comes in my room. The Sun teases me by the shadows on the wall. The Suns outline waltzes all around my room as the Sun creeps through the sky as if spying on me. It is some ritualistic ceremony. This is only a reminder of what I am missing in my world. The Sun’s ghosts I know are demons and they tease me.

Is this depression in the likeness of death? Or is this lower than death?

An escape from the reminders of child abuse, rape, murder all wrapped up into a cocoon that has failed to metamorphic into a new life. God talks about new life. (2 Corinthians 5:17) But I cannot shed the old me. The old life overwhelms me.

A leap of faith! For me it is much like diving into a pool that is void of water. Dried up faith?

No, not really.

I hold onto hope. Hope of not even tomorrow but just for today.
Hope that the specters on the wall become reminders of freedom from my walled off prison of my mind. A new birth? Maybe so. Maybe hope is the new birth spoken of, I do not know.

But my hope today is that I dance with the shadows on the wall.

(Written by me August 2014)

In Him

me

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Another One Down

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on June 26, 2011 by Her Broken Wing

Friday night and another one down…

She had hoped and prayed this time would be different.

But a little too much fighting and not enough love…

The bottle became her escape like days before.

Morning came and the light shone in…

Realization of her sin made clear.

Shadows danced and haunted her soul…

How does she get out of this hole?

She cried her tears but no one could hear…

Lying in her room staring at the ceiling.

Hope was gone, shame set in…

She reached over and took a sip of stale pain.

The night was setting and what had she done…

Her mind was foggy and she didn’t care.

Shadows danced and haunted her soul…

How does she get out of this hole?

Morning came but where was she?

Quietly she slipped out of this pain.

Another one down, dead to disease.

How do we get out of this hole?

When the world takes her toll?

Another one down……

In Memory of a “Friend”

Beautifully Awkward

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The Weathered Life

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on November 21, 2010 by Her Broken Wing
She came into the house from the cold. She dropped her old worn-out coat over the heater to dry it out from the dreary rain that continued to darkened the skies. She thought to herself, the weather was much like that of her moods these days. She looked around. The house was empty and smelled stale from its lack of attention  just like her own life.

 

When had it come to this? Why had it come to this?
 
She sat down in the old battered sofa that she had acquired from the side of a road. She figured she could fix it up some day with some nice fabric but for now it served its purpose. A place to sit and a place to sleep.
 
For a moment she would allow herself to go back in time. It started innocently enough. She had been sick. The doctor gave her some medicine for the pain. And for the first time in her pathetic little life, she felt good. The world went away, the pains and all its worries followed.
 
Where did she cross the line?
 
Who defines pain anyway? Physical, emotional, even spiritual?
 
When did she cross the line of her physical sickness into emotional and then into spiritual?
 
When did she become an “Addict”?

 With each pill, she gave up a little piece of her soul. With each high, she lost one more endearing part of her life. Eventually she was left barren. She had sold her soul to the Devil.
 
But that was not enough, she would begin to take parts of their life, too. And she did. Their lives were shattered in the path of her destruction.
 
 Now in a barren home–she would start over after many years living like a caged animal.
 
 
And…
 
Only through Mercy would she come to Him.
 
 Beautifully Awkward
 
 

 

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My To-Do List

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on April 20, 2010 by Her Broken Wing

I remember my first meeting to my now required licensure nurse group (it consists of a group of nurses with addictions lead by a recovering nurse monitored by the board of nursing –whew). I should be nervous, right? But leave it to me to be ignorant and arrogant. I went in and sat down with my to-do and has-done list of things to check of. This meeting was to be the first thing I checked off. Let me add that I was quite proud of how together I presented myself. I was hoping to maybe get time off for good behavior.  I was C.L.U.E.L.E.S.S.

Remember….. addicts are good at this kind of stuff…

Anyway–At that time, I still had my job.  And my world had not yet started to unravel.

So as I sat there, I listened to nurse’s talk calmly about not having jobs like they broke a fingernail, or how they were sitting back–waiting on God’s timing. I remember thinking the other nurses just “needed a plan” like me.

All the way around the room, those other drug addicts we  shared where we were in our life. Some of the nurses had been there one, two and five years down the road from their initial meeting, so they spoke of how they found jobs they now loved, and some even changed careers. Others downsized their way of life and others found peace with God.

Then my turn came and I pulled out my “list” (I believe I heard a snicker around the room as if they had seen this scenario before) and I began discussing what all I had done. First, I attended meetings, saw my doctor, told my boss and all is well. The room became very quiet. I heard the word “Newbie” come from somewhere.  At last, my advocate (she too is a recovering nurse that liaisons to the nursing board for us) spoke up and said, “First, you will have to quit your job. The nursing board will not allow you to work around narcotics in your job.”

My world started spinning. And I remember thinking this will not happen. I am not quitting. This job was all I knew. I had done this work for so long that I didn’t know what else I was going to do. I could feel myself start to hyperventilate. The other nurses that had previously snickered now saw my pain. They knew what it was like to be new and have your world suddenly turn upside down. This group had once been new to the journey not so long ago.  In their compassion, they started to console me as best they could but the tears broke loose no matter how hard I tried to conceal them. Little by little, my to-do list chiseled away to nothing.

Why was I being punished? Was I singled out to suffer this thorn in the flesh like Paul? (2 Corinthians 12:7) Why this one? Can I choose another one God? I remember saying those very words to God.

Oh yes, I do understand the consequences of my behavior and that isn’t what I am asking. Why this struggle?

The truth is in the beginning, I wanted my life back before the drugs. But now, I don’t ever want to go to the life I had before or during my time with drugs. For God has something much bigger in my life.

I have to learn to live life on life’s terms.

Just as with any journey, it requires a certain degree of travel on bumpy and treacherous roads.

I just have to learn which path to follow.

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On My Father’s Apron

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on April 16, 2010 by Her Broken Wing

“Just let me die,” I cried into my pillow a million times. Eventually, there became a desperate plea for God to take me home. I was tired of fighting this battle of addiction but each time God would put sweet memories of my family in the forefront of my mind and I would hold on another day.

I had tried too many times to count on giving up the pills. I went through cold-turkey on at least 4 different occasions. You would think someone in their right mind would catch on quickly and not want to suffer needlessly but this is not the case with us addicts—we are sick. For each time I went through detox, I would swear off any form of drugs or alcohol– F.O.R.E.V.E.R; thus begging the God Almighty that if He would just spare me, I would serve every last living starving person on the streets from here to nowhere– for my remaining days on earth.

As in Childbirth, many women have sworn to “Never do this again” only to turn around and bear a child the following year; the pain subsides all-to-soon and we forget. Or I did. One time, two times and finally 3 and 4 came and I still didn’t remember the suffering I had endured from previous times I detoxed. I would succumb to the power of the drugs. I could hear the war going on in my head –drugs make you feel good. Regardless, the outcome was always the same. I gave in.

I had so much to lose. But it didn’t stop me. Little by little, I started losing things that were important to me. I didn’t see it happening or maybe I just didn’t care. Either way, my life was being stripped away until I was completely exposed. One day, I was left humbled and humiliated—it was far worse than any dream I had ever experienced where I stood before a crowd stripped naked with everyone staring at me.  The difference — this was real and there was no waking up to a better existence.

In a matter of hours, I lost my job. Thus, I lost my identity –my whole identity was wrapped up in being a nurse.

I was reported to my state board of nursing by my employer even though… (Another story)

I lost my role in several other capacities that I served in the community.

I went from a strong person everyone looked up to to a person of “Damaged goods.” Isn’t it grand how fast news travels?

But ah, I am losing my addiction to self-approval of others. When I hit the bottom, I learned a lot about myself. I learned who my friends really are and who they are not. The funny thing is the ones that run from you are most likely the one’s dealing with their own fears. This hits too close to home. That or they think my addiction is contagious??!!

The best thing of all, I have lost my old life. I am on the road to recovery and will be for the rest of my life. Praise God. I have a lot to learn about myself. But I realize I can’t do this on my own and I will be tugging on the apron of God.

I read in my Bible the other day, if a person accepts the sufferings of the Cross—and loses his life will actually save it…FOREVER…“(Mark 8:34)

In this case, I would say I have made the mark or I am in the right direction.

For now, I’ll be found on my Father’s apron.

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Li”e”bility

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on April 11, 2010 by Her Broken Wing


(Job 34:6)  “Although I am right, I am considered a liar; although I am guiltless, his arrow inflicts an incurable wound.’’

I still remember the haunting pain caused by a friend’s parent that became one of the many chisels which broke my spirit. I didn’t understand why it hurt so badly then. Today, that same pain has come back to life, 41 years later.

I was with my friend and his parents, we were listening to Three Dog Night on the radio when the song, Liar, came on; their dad said, “There is so&so, they are singing about you, /—ME in other words– /she’s a liar.” My friend’s dad wasn’t kidding around either. He looked through my soul like he knew something I didn’t. I subconsciously thought then how I would never forget that look.

At the moment he called me a liar, my world stopped. The pain was so severe, tears welled up in my eyes and I had to turn away, but I did what I learned early in my childhood years—laughed it off and made a joke of it.  I prayed the day would soon be over,  hurried home, and I told no one. Telling someone in my home, would only put my shame and embarrassment under a microscope. My parents would ask, “What did you do to cause this?”  It was always my fault. So, I went to my room and silently cried myself to sleep.

Fast forward some decades later, “She took those pills from her patient.” My world started spinning, and I was 9 years-old again, the same pain and embarrassment as a little girl. I wanted to run home and hide. I couldn’t laugh it off this time as not a soul was laughing. Everyone was looking at me, waiting for an answer.

“Well, did you?” My supervisors asked one more time.

The truth is—I did not take anyone’s drugs but I abused mine. So regardless–I was a liar. I learned fast that as a drug-addict, you are automatically considered a liar. They go hand in hand. Your credibility goes down the toilet. Because–we are!

How did my friend’s dad know as a little girl? … Why would the memory come flooding back in my mind like a damn breaking loose?

I was a liar.  (Jn 8:44)

I ran home, buried my head in my pillow and cried buckets—and there wasn’t facing any  dragons or demons for my children, I couldn’t be their hero, I had my own villains and I couldn’t seem to manage them.

In reality, I have lied to a lot of people through the years, especially my family. My spouse would ask me over the past year, “Are you taking drugs?” and I would look aghast, “Of course, not.”

“Liar”—Three Dog Night– ran through my veins…cold, calculating, and numbing … I had come to a point that I could lie and no longer feel any remorse. That is a scary place to be.

You can plug in any disease here–drugs, alcohol, pornography, food, lying, anger, work, shopping and really anything that takes away your worship from God or causes you to lie or “fudge” the truth a “little”.

We are prisoners to our own cell. Locked away from the place where we think God will meet us.

So what happened?

One morning, I woke up and got out of bed. Just like every morning, I prayed but unlike every morning, I heard Gods whisper, “You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.” (Jn 8:32)

It was nothing I did, but everything He did…

As always, To Be Con’t

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Homeless Soul

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on March 26, 2010 by Her Broken Wing

Some time ago, I lost my job. When I went to my Superior to let him know that I would need some time off here and there to attend doctor’s appointments, he said, “Sure, whatever I can do to help.” Life was just hunky-dory.

A few days later my boss called me into his office, “Well, you are going to need to resign or I will terminate you. Sorry, but it’s the Human Resources Department.” Never once looking me in the eyes.

In a matter of seconds, I went from having a great job, to unemployed. He did not wish to help me find another job in another area of the building either.”I’m sorry there are no other jobs available.”(Knowing there were several other positions open) What he meant was there are no jobs for people like you.

I was now job poor.

“Oh by the way, I have reported you to the Board of Nursing.” Shock and disbelief, poor and deserted, betrayed and distraught, I was too stunned at that moment to say much. I don’t remember uttering more than a few words as I walked out the door before I began to sob. I bit my lip in two and prayed I could get out the door before I started to cry or my lip started to bleed, “Please God do not let me cry.” When I crossed the threshold of the door on my way out, I lost it. My cry was foreign; my chest started to heave and a rumbling came from deep within my soul. All those years of being drugged, I had numbed myself to any sentiment.  It was now a tornado of emotions. Spitting out anew one  every few seconds, I remember tremendous pain.

I was considered “Damaged goods.” And the weeks that followed, that was all I could think of.  My goods began to produce stinky bitterness, raging anger, whirling confusion, and extreme loneliness leaving me vacant and spiritually deprived. I was a homeless soul impoverished in my deepest shame.

I eventually walked into a place of unfamiliarity requiring my total faith. However, in my case it was really lack of faith, I just didn’t have a choice. I had been mandated into the situation (that I had brought on myself by a disease bigger than me), or more like pushed off the Grand Canyon. From the Abyss I had fallen into, where I have finally began to see the Light …

A Bankrupt life is like a baby learning to live life all over again. My life– in this case– needed all the fundamentals. I needed love and acceptance. I had lost the basics of living along with the financial stability. Even Jesus fed the multitudes before He began to talk. He met the people right where they were.  And Jesus was here today to feed me just as He did then, this time through His written Word.

My journey is still in progress but I can say that my poverty has brought me to utter nothingness and helplessness.

If I had known that poverty had meant this much freedom, I would have sought destitution long time ago.

Truly I believe that I am blessed bountifully in the scarcity of my brokenness.

Where I am made ready for the Groom…For Jesus

His Daughter…

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