Im sorry for their ignorance. Since I turned 34, my life has been the opposite. There was an issue but yhst wasn’t what they tried to treat. They decided gossip is golden - and treated me as If I were a liar. It still continues. Locked up many years in wards.. about 3 times. Left alone for months that turned into years. The tears were so part of the day. Beaten inside by Satan who knew I didn’t know how to fight back. Finally a breakthrough. Charles Stanley devotional, “on holy ground”. I ate those words morning, noon and night. Then I learned the power in the name of Jesus. Satan went back to hell. My life continued. The lies still circulate. But I write songs for God. Look out for those who are downtrodden . I sing, I read the word daily and sometimes all day. Some nights all night. My Savior is real. I offer Him to all. Until they laugh, then I know who they work for. I’ll turn the other cheek and let God.
That sounds bitter. I need to work on that. I’ve tried to forgive the worst of the worst situations. Please forgive me. And if younwould, Prsy. Thank you
Beautifully written, but I'm so damn sorry that you had to write this in the first place. Endometriosis is so unspeakably awful. Your poem hit hard. I was only diagnosed after suffering the major medical trauma of my baby literally being stuck inside me because the disease had messed up and rearranged my internal structure so badly. After decades of what you just eloquently described. Love and light to you 💚
I only had to wait one decade. But it took an important surgeon who was my friend, to get me a diagnosis. He told them that he admitted me and he wasn’t going to dismiss me till they told him what was going on. Patriarchy again! But they did find out and my journey changed. You are right the pain did not go away, but I could name it and the er treated me better with a name. I wish the last 40 years I was on a different journey, but mine has brought humility, empathy, and love intensified. And I am okay. I have great docs now who have been with me for over 20 years and believe me when I speak!
Thank you for putting into words the feelings of so many people! Your poem touched my heart. I wanted to hug her!!
Your words are so significant! Elegant! Impressive. I love to read your poetry, it is like a warm hug - even if what it describes is a shove. God bless you friend - keep writing
Debs, this piece left a lump in my throat. I'm so sorry they ignored you and didn’t listen. You deserved better, to be heard, to be listened to, then and always.
The way you captured years of fear, pain, and dismissal was so raw and powerful. Every line carried the weight of what it means to go unheard for so long, to be told over and over that your suffering is imagined or exaggerated. That kind of gaslighting doesn’t just hurt, it lingers, settles into the body, and teaches us to question what we know to be true.
Your poem gripped me, especially the part about sitting with the doubt they planted. It speaks to how deep that conditioning goes, how the shame of not being believed can be just as heavy as the pain itself.
And then your reflection, the clarity and strength in those words, it was a lifeline. “You are not imagining it. You are not too much. Your pain is real.” That reminder holds so much power. And your ending, the vision of beginning again on your own terms, felt like light breaking through.
Thank you for writing this. For sharing something so personal with such grace. For speaking for all the people still waiting to be believed. Your voice is a gift. ❤️🫶🏻✨️🤗😭
My daughter’s story is different but the same: medical gaslighting. We’re (finally) in the middle of getting a real diagnosis. I spent the last 12 hours debating if we should go to the ER for worsening symptoms. Her CT scan is Tuesday. 🩵
Me too.
I feel seen. Thank you for your writing.
Thank you for reading Jodi 💕
Im sorry for their ignorance. Since I turned 34, my life has been the opposite. There was an issue but yhst wasn’t what they tried to treat. They decided gossip is golden - and treated me as If I were a liar. It still continues. Locked up many years in wards.. about 3 times. Left alone for months that turned into years. The tears were so part of the day. Beaten inside by Satan who knew I didn’t know how to fight back. Finally a breakthrough. Charles Stanley devotional, “on holy ground”. I ate those words morning, noon and night. Then I learned the power in the name of Jesus. Satan went back to hell. My life continued. The lies still circulate. But I write songs for God. Look out for those who are downtrodden . I sing, I read the word daily and sometimes all day. Some nights all night. My Savior is real. I offer Him to all. Until they laugh, then I know who they work for. I’ll turn the other cheek and let God.
@sprklme
That sounds bitter. I need to work on that. I’ve tried to forgive the worst of the worst situations. Please forgive me. And if younwould, Prsy. Thank you
Beautifully written, but I'm so damn sorry that you had to write this in the first place. Endometriosis is so unspeakably awful. Your poem hit hard. I was only diagnosed after suffering the major medical trauma of my baby literally being stuck inside me because the disease had messed up and rearranged my internal structure so badly. After decades of what you just eloquently described. Love and light to you 💚
I only had to wait one decade. But it took an important surgeon who was my friend, to get me a diagnosis. He told them that he admitted me and he wasn’t going to dismiss me till they told him what was going on. Patriarchy again! But they did find out and my journey changed. You are right the pain did not go away, but I could name it and the er treated me better with a name. I wish the last 40 years I was on a different journey, but mine has brought humility, empathy, and love intensified. And I am okay. I have great docs now who have been with me for over 20 years and believe me when I speak!
Thank you for putting into words the feelings of so many people! Your poem touched my heart. I wanted to hug her!!
Your words are so significant! Elegant! Impressive. I love to read your poetry, it is like a warm hug - even if what it describes is a shove. God bless you friend - keep writing
Debs, this piece left a lump in my throat. I'm so sorry they ignored you and didn’t listen. You deserved better, to be heard, to be listened to, then and always.
The way you captured years of fear, pain, and dismissal was so raw and powerful. Every line carried the weight of what it means to go unheard for so long, to be told over and over that your suffering is imagined or exaggerated. That kind of gaslighting doesn’t just hurt, it lingers, settles into the body, and teaches us to question what we know to be true.
Your poem gripped me, especially the part about sitting with the doubt they planted. It speaks to how deep that conditioning goes, how the shame of not being believed can be just as heavy as the pain itself.
And then your reflection, the clarity and strength in those words, it was a lifeline. “You are not imagining it. You are not too much. Your pain is real.” That reminder holds so much power. And your ending, the vision of beginning again on your own terms, felt like light breaking through.
Thank you for writing this. For sharing something so personal with such grace. For speaking for all the people still waiting to be believed. Your voice is a gift. ❤️🫶🏻✨️🤗😭
I will write a poem soon and I'm so sorry that they were ignoring you
My daughter’s story is different but the same: medical gaslighting. We’re (finally) in the middle of getting a real diagnosis. I spent the last 12 hours debating if we should go to the ER for worsening symptoms. Her CT scan is Tuesday. 🩵
What we tell ourselves when we know things are off.
What we are willing to try.
When it seems impossible to find medical care that can help.