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time and dealing with a lot of guilt, “Do you know God loves you, even when you first get up in the morning, when your hair is sticking straight up, and you have no make-up on. He loves you just as you are.” That statement brought a smile to their face. Since my disease is progressive, I'm

sure I'll experience some anger again from time to time. Hopefully, I've learned a bit more howto dealwith it. Instead of lashing out in a hurtful manner, I will try to state my needs in a calm, relaxedmanner. If I can accomplish that I will be making real progress! If not, I can always say, “I'm sorry” one more time!

theywere asking,whichwas not the case at all, quite the contrary. Some friends understood when I told them, “No,” while others didn't take it as well. There were many days I felt misunderstood, and often felt like not sharing at all. I couldn't understand why people couldn't get what I was saying. I now see, they really couldn't know, having not been there. In the wee hours of the morning I found

comfort more than one time. A few times my pain level reached the frightening stage, the place where you wonder if you can stand it. Then, I'dwonderedwhat I'd do if it didn't let up, how I could live with it on a permanent basis. In the middle of the night I would pray, not a long drawn out prayer, but a simple one, “Lord, I need you!” In no time at all, I learned about the peace the Bible talks about, the one that passes all understanding. I also learned ways to cope with pain, so I wouldn't have to take medication such as rest, heat and ice. Recently, I talked with a friend who has

her own set of health problems. When I commented to her, “You sure seem to handle them well,” she laughed and said, “You haven't heard my whining and cursing.” When I said to her, “Do you do that?” She laughed and said, “Mostly, under my breath.” I admired her honesty because here was the anger I was experiencing, and it has to be dealt with one way or the other as you travel through the grief process. It's been 12 years now, and I've come a

long way in accepting my neuromuscular disease, and there's something wonderful that I've learned about my anger. It did not destroy me, even when I thought it would.

Bread ‘ n Molasses September/October 2010 • 31

And something else, the Good Lord didn't forsake me when I called out to him and said, “Holdme, lest I slip fromyour grasp.” You see, I came to the conclusion that

he loves me unconditionally, that anger is a normal part of grief, an emotion that he gave me. I realize that he understands it if no one else ever does. I told someone recently who was going through a difficult

Glenda Barrett, a native of North Georgia, is an artist, poet and writer. Her paintings are in an online gallery called Fine Art America, and at this time her first poetry chapbook titled, When the Sap Rises, is on Glenda's

work has been published in Woman's World, Journal of Kentucky Studies, Chicken Soup for the Soul, Farm & Ranch Living, Rural Heritage, Psychology for Living, Smoky Mountain Living, Georgia Magazine, and many others.

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