This has been my self-authored writing mantra:
Write it down. Get it out. Out of your head and onto some paper. Or onto a keyboard and then into a computer. Or something or somewhere. Just out. Out. Whatever it is. However it seems. Good. Bad. Random. Joyful. Painful. Process it. Explore it. Excavate it. Deconstruct it. Reconstruct it. Get it. Learn it. Honor it. Feel it. Master it. Hold it. Release it. Celebrate it. Love it. Forgive it. Be it. Live it.
Or do none of those things.
But whatever you do, just write.
For five years, that is what I have done. I have laughed myself sick. I have cried from the most primal places in my soul. I've pushed my mind to better understand my world, my thoughts, my day, and, as a result, myself. I have.
You've been with me. You've held my hand when I felt afraid. You've laughed with me instead of at me when I danced like no one was watching. And, on most days, you've even jumped out there and danced, too. You have.
For five years. And here is the God's honest truth:
I am forever changed. For the better. I am. I am. I am.
Like Toni Morrison said after she penned her masterpiece "The Bluest Eye". . . Why did she write it? So that she could read it. Yes. That. I've let myself adopt this philosophy, too.
Were it not for you, this community of thinkers and feelers, reading these words and reflecting with me, I know that it wouldn't have been the same. So this isn't just my lonely place to write words for my own eyes. I know it isn't.
I mean, when my sister passed away? And I turned to this place to explode my overwhelming grief? When I was searching and searching for a way to walk into a new normal? You listened. You came and you read. And it was you who loaned me your wings on those days when I was flying on one. You gave me the courage to honor my sister and this journey in my own way and also a place to chronicle a time that I knew was pivotal. You did.
But you have also celebrated with me. Every step of the way. You've listened to my medical nerd stories and random observations. Allowed me to indulge you with the back seat shenanigans of my children, a husband so gagworthily called "The B.H.E." (that I'm perpetually crushing on), and even went for the ride to my crazy visits to grocery stores and Target.
Yes, you have. And it's been about so much more than Grady Hospital. But you've been okay with that.
|You even read about The Puppy Mafia. Ha!|
And so. Maybe I started writing here so that I could read it. But because of what you've given me, I know that a piece of me also keeps coming here so that we can read it.
It has been a dream, my friends. It has. And this idea of you--you busy people--reading these words over and over and over again? It will always be a big deal to me.
So thank you. Thank you very much. As the Grady elders say, "I 'preciate you."
I mean that.
Happy 5 year anniversary, Reflections of a Grady Doctor!