Category Archives: broken

#chronicillness, #chronicpain, #fibromyalgia, #fibrowarrior, #headache, #spoonie, #spoonielife, #spoons, #therapy, and one Hell of a growth experience., Another Fucking Growth Opportunity, broken, Divorce, friendship, friendships, grief, heartbreak, Hysterectomy, loss, Love and Marriage, pain and sorrow, sorrow, Spoonie

Trauma is a bitch…

Leave a comment

Have you ever heard how our bodies can carry memories of our trauma within them?
I’ve experienced it a little before, crying during deeply effective yoga, or a really good massage, but having this abdominal surgery is stirring up all sorts of trauma.
Why?
Well the last abdominal surgery was smack dab in the middle of one of the worst years of my life, and I really didn’t get to deal with much of it at all.
So here is today’s podcast. It’s a healing step taken selfishly for me, one I should have taken ages ago, but haven’t because I hate to do anything that could remotely upset or hurt people. That isn’t my intention here, but it might be a side effect. Even knowing that has made me doubt doing this all day.
I have to stop impairing my own healing on the off chance my voice could upset someone, especially when I am only speaking my truth.

Your Body, Your Funeral – SavvySpoons – Living a life of limited spell slots.

Misty opens up about withdrawing empathy for her countrypeople still refusing to vaccinate and her belief that if they want to have "Their body, their choice" then they can just shove that somewhere dark and moist.  — Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/savvyspoons/message Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/savvyspoons/support
  1. Your Body, Your Funeral
  2. In the dark…
  3. Breathing through pain.
  4. The pandemic life was my normal.
  5. It's a cooking show for tired people who don't want to cook.
broken, chronicillness, chronicpain, disability, heartbreak, Just me, Just me, poem, Poetry, Spoons, ssdi

Broken, not broken enough…

Leave a comment

My broken is not broken enough
to get the help I need
to stop the bleed

of endless co-pays and medical bills
of supplement costs
of specialist fees.

any adventure I manage to have
any life I squeeze
any pleasure I tease

from this tattered body and shattered dreams
becomes the reason You see
to refuse the need.

my broken is not broken enough
i should be deteriorating more
lying prone on the floor

or screaming in torment and pain
unable to enjoy a thing
enterally suffering.

my walk with the dog around the block
isn’t a sign that I’m lying
i don’t have to be constantly crying

to need help and support
from my village
it isn’t my intent to pillage

i would work if I could.

You would see the food thrown to the crows
rather than let it slip
through my lips

because it might have been earned with your labor
and You never need a favor
everything You have You worked for.

You personally paid for the street that was laid
for your car to traverse
on your way to work.

And the water You mindlessly drink
from your kitchen sink
comes from your well

dug with your own hands at your own cost
You got nothing from us
never even rode a bus.

My broken isn’t broken enough
to stir empathy
in your heart

You lack the sympathy
to understand
You won’t lend a hand

You are your own man.