Last week my oldest daughter took me to social services to apply for help.  She took me because I have no self confidence anymore.  I was fortunate and received a social worker with a mother in law that had fibromyalgia.  She understood my pain.  During the interview, Laura had to answer many of the questions, I was just too tired and my mouth hurt to talk.  Scott and I were on the fence for receiving help, but she did say she would try and I know she did because my children received medical cards a week later.  It was the first postive piece of mail I had received since this nightmare began.

It's funny, how you think that social services is a place you will never go. Food stamps are something you will never need and hard work will always pay the bills.  My husband works hard.  I worked hard, until my accident.  Then the kids are home from school and your husband is on his way home from work and you go to the kitchen and there is nothing there for dinner.  You are the mom, you are supposed to fix it.  Mom's fix everything.  So, you go to social services and apply for food stamps.  It only takes on weekend of hunger to encourage you to fill out the paperwork.  Now I run to the mailbox every day, not to see if I got a card from my sister or a letter about my disability.  No, I am looking for my food stamps so I can go to the market.  Am I ashamed.  No way.  I will proudly hand them over.  Those who look down on me had better understand that I was only a few paychecks between living the high life and food stamps and I made a significant amount of money. 

I say to you, 'I am looking for my life."  It is gone.  There is no me anymore.  There is this new person struggling to survive.  Struggling to take care of her family.  She is in pain.  She is hurting.  I don't want her to be me and I don't want to be her.  I want to be me.  Did anybody see me?