A poem on self-harm (trigger warning: suicidal thoughts/self-harm/mental illness)
My story of surviving COVID-19, false test results, complications, and continued, lingering health problems seven weeks later.
Picture this: a thief breaks into your home and steals nearly everything you own. You are devastated, and all you can see are the things that have been taken from you. As the dark days go by following this tragic event, you begin to notice small things around the house that you did not buy. They are simple. Seemingly of no consequence. Some are practical, while others are impractical but carry meaning and beauty.
Rather than be filled with fear, I want to hide in the cleft of the Rock, I want to take shelter beneath His wings, I want to run to Him to make Him my strong tower, my fortress. How do I do that?
Then life drastically changed, seemingly overnight. For us it changed in ways we could never have anticipated. The virus seemed so blown out of proportion. So far off. And then it suddenly wasn't. But we have so much to be grateful for.