When the past is present

When I was a little girl and climbed up on the table at Dr. Grady Black's office to receive my yearly shots, I remember the fear.  Yet, I also remember the trust.  The trust that he was always going to make me feel better.  And, he did.  We are taught to trust figures of authority -- Doctors, Pastors, Teachers, Administration and still to this day, I put my trust in my Doctor.  

I'm having a rainy day inside.  It's time to exercise the coping skills I've been taught and blogging is at the top of the list.  In writing things out, I am focusing on the top 2 things my Doctor said to me last week when leaving his office.  

1.  Live in the now.  
2.  We cannot control others actions.  

Simplistic words, yet truly powerful when we put them to practice.  When past actions come calling, stay in the present.  Do not think about what has happened before or what might happen.  Be in control and not fearful of the past.  The past can serve as a learning experience as long as it doesn't limit our future.    

Support, it's not just an undergarment

This weekend we discussed how long I have been mentally ill.  Maybe my whole life?  Maybe since high school?  Maybe since 2001?  All I do know is depression has been a part of me just like allergies have been and I can't remember the last time I didn't wake up sneezing.  

We are within a couple of weeks of my hospitalization anniversary.  This has caused me to reflect a lot over the past year.  Mainly, it has caused me to be grateful for my support system.  I sit in many of my support group meetings listening to people who have no one, no one to prod them to get help, no one to listen, no one to ask if they have had their meds, no one to tell them they care.  We all need people in our lives.  I have found that a support system consisting of old friends combined with new is so healthy for me.  It is so refreshing to receive an email or a text from someone who has walked in my shoes, been hospitalized and who "gets it".  It's like having our own secret code.  At the same time, there is nothing better than an old friend reaching out and still loving me for who I am today.  We are all broken in some way and in need of people to help repair our cracks.  

JT will turn as red as his hair when reading this....but I've been saving all of my "support system" messages since last year to help me through a rainy day.  I say it often and I'll say it again, reach out.  You make a difference to people in ways you will never know.  

Thank you all for being a force of support in my journey.      


I love you so much.  You are so strong...you continue to amaze me.

That was sweet.  You do make a positive difference in many lives Nat...most especially mine.  You just may not realize it (or perhaps I do not tell you enough).  :)

I hope this was therapeutic for you.  It’s a good thing to reassess…but know that I love you for who you are…right now.  And for who I know you want to be…and all things in between.  You are such a good soul…a light in my life…and my love.

Well said.  We must stumble through some of the past…if only not to repeat it.  But we will not get mired there.

I’m so happy and lucky to have you in my life.  I love you so much.

I love you so much.  You are so very brave…I wonder if you know that.  You make me so proud so often…and I have a tear in my eye right now.

Nice blog today.  Love that pic of your parents by the fire.

It's hard to forget someone who gave you so much to remember.

I hope this post doesn't come across as me being depressed.  I won't deny that the freezing cold, the dirty snow in NYC, 3 days of the stomach flu, a cancelled LA trip where I would finally get some vitamin D all merged together don't make a great recipe for February.  

I've been grasping at straws lately as to why I can't seem to pick up a pen and paper and write a note like I used to.  I can dream a note.  I can see my cursive, dramatic N in Natalie and can rattle off line after line of meaningful, affectionate words in my head.  It's almost as if I need a dictation device.  I often think about all of the special people who I know I owe a note to and I hope they can somehow feel how much I care, how much I love them and how much I thank them for things they have done for me.  I realize Emily Post is not proud of me and my Mom is quite horrified as this is just "not how you were taught Natalie Ann".  

This morning I was delayed out of Atlanta and as I sat on the runway, I flipped through old pictures on my phone realizing how bad I needed to delete several to open up memory.  Towards the end, I had deleted 46 out of 1,505 pictures.  Yes, 46.  I couldn't delete my memories.  They were too precious to me.  Below, is my favorite of the day bringing full circle the art of the handwritten note everyone in my family always has believed in.    

  

This note then led to me asking for peanuts from the flight attendant which led to me pouring them in my Diet coke exactly like my Granddaddy used to do.  

And finally, this led to me to a tiny scrap of paper I found when cleaning out my Grandparents belongings years ago.  I know I was meant to find this today.  I was meant to shed a tear or two tonight yet smile through my tears to know and feel my loved ones all around me, past and present.    

And what comforting words my Grandmother hand wrote for me to find.....

Mourn not for me for I'm at rest.  My soul is with my Saviour blest. 
I am from sin and sorrow free.  Prepare dear friend to follow me.  

It's hard to forget someone who gave you so much to remember.