Why I Write

Because it gives me purpose and a voice

Hello Dear Reader,

My name is Terry L. Cooper.

August 2018 was the last time I worked. I had to medically retire at the ripe old age of 55. My body just said, “Enough” one day and that was that. In the 2 1/2 years since I have struggled. I’ve struggled with depression, self-esteem, you name it. My lifelong identity had been wrapped up in who I was a functioning member of society.

If I could no longer work and do volunteer work, then who was I?

A little over a year ago, my mind and emotions decided to tank right along with my body. I no longer had a sense of purpose. I had been working in the health care field as a med tech. Anything and everything from sticking your finger to check your sugar to placing drops of morphine on your tongue to ease your pain as you lie dying in your bed. I worked at that time at an assisted living facility, specifically in the locked-down dementia unit.

Throwing the scrubs on every day gave me a sense of purpose. I had a reason to get out of bed every day. There were people who needed me and if I didn’t show up, literally, there would be a break in the chain of care. We med techs were a scarce bunch. More was needed than there were available. I took great pride in the work that I did and the care I gave.

When I wasn’t working, I’d do volunteer work. I liked to keep busy. I like to serve. I liked to be needed. And then all of that changed. Everything from the USO at Dover Airforce Base to walking through cemeteries documenting headstones. Again, service and purpose. Then…

In saunters Medium.

I couldn’t tell you at this moment how I happened upon Medium, but down the rabbit hole, I went.

I now have a sense of purpose again. A reason for living. I’ve had readers/writers tell me that my stories have helped them, and given them comfort. I’ve been thanked for telling my stories and even been told I am brave. It wasn’t bravery that had my fingers pounding on the keys.

It was needed.

A need for the first time in nearly 58 years that I could speak and be heard. I speak and have someone listen. And more importantly, be heard. From the suicide of family members, to my rape, to the killing of my younger sister, I came to Medium and purged.

In that purging, I am a new person. Reborn. Still tired, but not yet defeated. I now have a strength that I didn’t have before. Not even when I was in scrubs. I have found me, Terry, the girl who has been lost for eons.

So on this first birthday, I say happy birthday. Your birth has given me life.

Thank you.