Breathing Through Fear

Fear of my Hunger
of helplessness soaking your deafness.
not your fault; not mine; so whose?

left there I am nowhere.

The leaves are rustling,
twinkling soft winks through my window;
it is a smile pausing
a Moment of none.


Breathing through Fear, digital drawing, 10 x 8in (22.86 x 17.78cm)

I rely on my feeding tube for nutrition and sustenance. My stomach does not empty fast enough for bolus feeds, and swallowing ability is limited. Nutritionally balanced formula and water are slowly dripped via a feeding pump 24/7.

My formula and supplies are delivered monthly. At the end of December the company delivered a weeks worth of formula and supplies, and stated the rest will be shipped. It was then they informed us they were bought out by another company. New company drop ships everything.

That was on a Friday. Come Wednesday, no formula and no supplies. I call to make sure everything will arrive by Friday. This is when my local company and I learned that, no, my account was not set up; my information as a patient was not transferred over in the buy out.

My local company and I get on the phone with this new company. I am told they are waiting on my chart, and there is noone to contact to expedite. I must wait.

So, my formula and supplies are not going to arrive by Friday.
“I understand it must be frustrating, ma’am.”

Um, I rely on this for my nutrition and sustenance. Running out is detrimental. Frustrating does not describe how I feel. Eventually resolution did happen. I spent until yesterday without. I dealt with not having enough.

It does not end there. They sent the wrong bags. I call. I am told they will correct this but will not be able to ship the right bags until next month. NO. This is not possible. I have a few extra but you must fix this and send them. I shut down the initial attempt to blame everyone but their company with the firm broken record technique. The correct bags are being sent. I will call today to ensure it is done.

I was Hungry, Angry, Lonely, and Tired as the adage goes. And I did what the adage says to do – HALT.

My personality is such, today, I speak up. I am a squeaky wheel. My family squeaks on my behalf. I can remember when this was not the case. I remember myself, when I was terrified and quiet to my own detriment.

Any small opposition, I shut down; sometimes hiding in my closet; doubting my own reality; finding new ways to call myself stupid.

Making it okay to be hungry; I don’t deserve to meet my needs. Selfish to ask and feeling guilty over feeling scared; when frustration does not describe the situation.

These feelings of panic and anxiety are familiar. I feel small and humiliated; making hurt normal and making a wrong; right. A mix of inexcusable behavior, livable.

My natural inclination is to write, to doodle, to draw until it leaves; until I feel safe again; until I am able to look up and say, okay, its gonna be okay Connie.

The only difference today is having a few more techniques in materials and facility. I have a greater sense of self. Response versus desperation.

This week, I chose to breath into the fear. With this, I smile into the hunger. I sit with anger. and we dance, and the dance is genuine, life lives full, and I stay in view. Occupying the space I do. My needs; met.

paint much love, always,
Connie Karleta Sales
a.k.a. This Crooked Little Flower

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and, please don’t forget share. My work is meant to be shared. Thank you so much! CKS