Pass It On

For the next 45 years of my life, if I am feeling unloved I will go back to the comment that was left after my last blog entry from my beloved Purple Michael. It reminded me that even though I feel somewhat isolated, I continue to impact the lives of the people I love.

I got another little rubber stamp on that same theme when a young lad who I have known most of his life called yesterday for advice on his car insurance. People remember you. Even when it doesn't seem like it.

I enjoyed that warm fuzzy feeling so much that I thought about all the things that people have taught me that I remember... things that made me the person I am. You know, little things like, "you're not six and you're not Barbie so you really shouldn't wear that color of pink on your nails" and "Mommy, don't dance, you'll ruin the song for me"... and "when somebody shows you who they are, believe them, the first time". So much of who I am is a hodge-podge of the people I've shared my life with and those footprints never leave you.

That's the blessing/curse that being so outspoken on my blog. I say things and people take them to heart. I'm not one of those mega-mommy-bloggers making ten grand a month on ad revenue (there are some that do!). It's just little ole me and little ole y'all and for the most part it's a Heather Monologue on her thoughts, opinions, weather report, menu and medical rounds each day. But you feed me too, with your facebook messages and comments and emails and phone calls and just saying, "I read your blog" which says to me that they checked it out and found it worthy of returning to, day after day.

Yet as I tap away on my laptop keys, I see the faces of the people that I know are reading and I feel compelled to say something wise or encouraging. I feel obligated to make sure my words aren't bitter because eventually I will have to eat them. I try to keep the hatin' and complainin' and whinin' to a minimum knowing that people can get negativity anywhere. I don't want to be that person you avoid because you don't want to hear six paragraphs of "pity me" "woe is me" and so forth.

BUT I also have to keep it real enough so that I don't sound like Martha Stewart, or Mother Teresa. This is not a life of unicorns and rainbows and glitter. There are some real hurts that happen here at the mountain house every day - a big mix of fibromyalgia and chronic back pain and aspergers syndrome and we don't move like a well oiled machine. Somedays it's just a matter of the one who is most capable doing the best they can. And there can be some frustration and aggravation at the way things don't get divided up evenly. I feel like nobody will go to town except me. My mother feels like nobody cares about the yard but her. Austin feels doubled up on having both his mom and grandma nagging him. And while I think it's better not to relive each less than happy moment, it's insincere to pretend it's all perfect.

But I look out the window and glance at the darkness spreading across the lake and I think how blessed I am to live here. Thirteen months ago when I left White County to go back to live with my parents in Clayton County, I could never have imagined being back here so soon in such a beautiful place with my son close by so that we can hopefully keep him on the straight and narrow. I couldn't have imagined this life, this much support for this phase of life - that I would need help and/or that I would receive help. It's so much more than I deserve.

And even though I'm way far away from some of the people who have molded me into me, I get to wrap myself up in warm memories, I get to remember their words of encouragement that they gave to me and it seems that there is hardly a day that goes by without the opportunity to share some of that age earned wisdom with those who are younger - or who are arriving at a time of crisis that I faced in times already gone by. We all have something to learn and we all have something to share and as long as you've got a pulse, you can keep sowing yourself into the gardens of others. Who knows what kind of harvest they'll reap, but I bet they'll come back to thank you for your help.

I've hurt a lot today and I've been stressed a bit today and it's a bad combo for me to blog under. I just want to show you that it is possible to hurt and be hurt and turn it to a blessing, which I hope I am for you.

Love and hugs, y'all.