Poems From Pain

I wrote three poems the other night, one after the other. They're written on the back of envelopes because when the need to write them hit, it was extremely urgent and didn't want to wait until I found my poetry journal. I used to write a lot, but lost the desire during an abusive relationship in which I was ridiculed, yelled at, and physically "punished" for writing. Since then writing has become very difficult for me.

I realize I have been gone for a very long time from my blogs and I am sorry for that. I finally have some idea as to what happened with me and as my thoughts settle down, I will eventually write and describe what happened. I am sure I am not the only chronic pain patient who has reacted the way I did, specially those who have dealt with chronic pain for many many years.

Anyway, here are the three poems I wrote the night before last. These poems are copyrighted to me and can not be reprinted, re-posted, downloaded, or used in any manner by anyone else, without my consent.


The Bottomless Pit
© M. Hull Jan. 2, 2013

Lost in the depths of darkness
The bowels of despair
This bottomless pit...
How did I get here?

Stuck,at the bottom of a deep well
Looking up for any sign of light
  none to be seen

How did I get here?

                                                                                               
Praying, wishing, hoping to be saved
   prayers... unanswered
   wishes ...a fool's errand
   Hope...fades to nothing
   nothing left here
   a barren heart
   desiccated soul

As day after day..
   week after week
   month after month
   year after year
pain tears at my soul
    ripping it to shreds
   devours my heart
   destroys what little is left of me

still I wonder..
How did I get here?

I fought for years beyond counting
holding tight to hope
   ...all for nothing

Now here I sit, deep in this pit
   this pit of despair
   with pain my only company

How did I get here?

easy...
I got here through hours, days, weeks, months...years
   unending pain
   increasing disability
It took all I held dear away from me
all abilities...gone

until all that was left...

Is this pit of despair

END


Darkness of Despair
M. Hull © Jan. 2, 2013

I am lost
   blind
   deaf
   dumb
here in the dark

Pain is all I feel

Pain I fought for years
The fight in me is no more

                                                                                   
why bother?
  I can not win
   The pain always overwhelms me
   the dark always surrounds me
   until I am drowning
   the fight washed away


Blind
Deaf
Dumb

Nothing to see or hear
my cries for help go nowhere
   for there is no help, no succor, no healing
   this pain will never end

stuck forever... lost forever
drowning in the tears of pain
deep within the the darkness of despair
END


Grip Of Apathy
M. Hull © 2013

Cold fingers of apathy
reach out and grab me
pulling me down
   into the abyss

No struggle can beat this
no strength can break it's grip
try as hard as I can
..it always fails

falling
   falling
       falling

down
   down
       down
into the deepest darkest pit of despair

                                                                           
swallowed whole

Now I live there.

END


Basically what happened is pretty simple, and so dang common for those who live with constant pain or illness. With the Cymbalta came slightly lowered pain levels. This allowed me to begin to get an actual life back. A life where I could go to the store, go visit friends, go swimming, even go away for a weekend with my DH and have a blast. I was able to cook a few nights a week, do some cleaning every day. Pain crisises became rare as the medication removed the intensity, th sharpness of my pain. Yes I still hurt, but it wasn't as sharp or intense as without the Cymbalta. I got used to this , loved it and threw myself into it with great relief and happiness.

Then came a medication screw up thanks to insurance. So I had to go 2 weeks wihtout Cymbalta. As a result my blood level dropped and my pain went back to its usual 8-10 every day, with the same old sharpness and intensity (butcher knives stabbing the joints instead of a fist in a boxing glove..sharp pain instead of dull) and I ended up back in bed. It took 6 weeks to get the Cymbalta back up to proper blood level. But even then it was too late, I had lost my "new life" even though it was still at the beginning. This hurt soooooo much, to get some back and to lose it again.

I gave up. I no longer wanted to fight back. I was tired of the emotional hurt that comes with losing the new friends you made, losing the ability to do things, losing the lower pain levels etc. etc. So I stopped trying.

It took me until yesterday to figure out what was going on, and it didn't start bothering me until a couple weeks ago. Prior to that I was perfectly happy to be stuck in apathy and doing nothing. It is safer.

That's pretty much it. Hopefully I can write more in depth about it.