Today, I want to introduce my first guest blogger, Natalie Patterson Mohr.
Natalie Patterson Mohr grew up in Morristown, Tennessee. She received a B.A. at the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga and completed her graduate degree at Lincoln Memorial University. She is a mental health advocate, a former Spanish teacher and mother to two young boys. She currently lives in East Tennessee and enjoys pursuing her passions of writing, art, community involvement, music, and life-long learning.
Natalie is the author of
"The Tale of the Lantern Lady," an allegorical short story about
those who suffer from mental illness and the "angels" who bridge the
gap between pain and positive change in their lives.
Please feel free to check out her writing. I can tell you from experience that it is one of the most powerfully moving and inspiring short stories I have read.
Without further ado, here is the first part of Natalie's testimony...
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I would like to share my story with
you. I hope that my testimony brings comfort to others who are suffering with
mental illness and encouragement in that, even though we go through times of
great pain and suffering, God does not abandon us. You are not alone in your
battle.
I grew up in a loving and supporting
environment. Being an adopted only child, I was the center of my parents'
world. I was raised in church and had a relationship with God from an early
age. I graduated from high school in the top 10% of my class, was the national
oratory champion for the Beta Club honors society and was successful in many
ways. I always gave credit to God for my accomplishments. I went on to college
to pursue my childhood dream of being a teacher. I spoke fluent Spanish and also excelled in
English. I graduated in Secondary Education Cum Laude with the highest g.p.a.
in my major and held leadership positions in many campus organizations.
It was not until I reached the age
of 21 that my bi-polar symptoms surfaced. I found teaching to be highly
challenging and not what I expected. I
had an overcrowded classroom, a consuming amount of lesson plans and grading, classroom
management issues and virtually no support from the administration. The stress
level was overwhelming. I began to act out in ways that were outside of my
character. I started seeking to fill my voids with constant stimulation and
pleasure. I put myself in many dangerous situations and was even sexually
assaulted by someone. I didn't care what
the risks or consequences where of getting my thrills. If I felt the urge to do
something, I did it. I didn't think about if I didn't have the money for it or
not. I used credit cards to get it anyway. Nothing was more important to me
than what I wanted at the moment. I
completely skipped the process of reasoning and began to think irrationally.
At that point, I became severely
depressed. Coming from a Christian home, I did not understand why I was acting in ways
against my values. The guilt and conviction I felt was unbearable. I sought alcohol as a way to self-medicate. I
knew something was wrong, but I did not know what it was. One night, I called my Mom and told her I was
just acting stupid and was so depressed I was missing work too much because of
the stress. She recommended I see a psychiatrist for help. I assumed I had
depression, but was surprised when I was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder. My psychiatrist recommended that I immediately
resign from my job because it was affecting my health and I was making
dangerous choices.
My lifelong dream was crushed. All of my life I had been successful and told
by my parents, college professors and mentors the same message: "You will
be successful at whatever you do. We expect great things from you in your future." I had gone from an overachiever to an epic
failure.
I found my way in other education
related careers outside of teaching. I would have times where I felt fulfilled,
successful and could hold a job for around two years. But every time the same
pattern would occur. Despite my psychiatric care and medication, stress would
trigger my mania and depression. Every job that I had, I ended up
quitting. The length of my jobs became
shorter and shorter each time. I tried teaching again, thinking without the
stresses I was undergoing in my previous attempt, it would be easier. I was wrong.
The same pattern continued to emerge.
After a year and a half of teaching, I resigned for the same reasons as
my first attempt.
One February night, I sat alone on
my bed, looking at a bottle of sleeping pills through tear filled eyes. "How had I become this person? Why
couldn’t I just be who I wanted to be and who God wanted me to be? I was a good girl." Yet, there I
was. A perpetual screw up. “This pattern is never going to end,” I
thought to myself. “I’ve been seeing
psychiatrists for 4 years and none of the medications have ever worked. I’m never going to get better. Why couldn't I just 'suck it up' and 'get it
together?' I am not cut out for life. I
can’t function like a normal person in society.
I’m just a burden to my parents.
They are always having to give me money to bail me out of my
problems. All I do is bring them
stress. I’ve disappointed my parents, my
friends, myself, and God. I’m doing
nothing good for Him so there is no purpose for me to even be here
anymore. I can’t stand this pain
anymore, I just want to escape this pain.
God, my plan is to end it. I’m
taking this bottle of sleeping pills and if you don’t want me to die, then you
better intervene somehow.”
I opened the bottle of prescription
sleeping pills and swallowed one. Then,
I took two, then three, then 5 or 6 at a time until the whole bottle was
gone. I sat there for several seconds
waiting for something to happen. Would
it hurt? Would it happen fast? Would I just fall asleep? Within a minute, the phone rang. I answered it and it was my mother. “How are you doing Nat? Dad and I were watching the football game and
I just felt that I needed to give you a call.
Is everything ok?” “No, it’s not
Mom. I just took a bottle of sleeping
pills. I’m just a big failure and a
burden to everyone Mom. I’m sorry.” I
don't remember anything after that.
In a way, I was shocked that my Mom
had a weird sixth sense to call just at the right moment But, in a way, I wasn’t. Though I had never
tested God's power, He had always been very real to me and I’d seen Him do
“miracles” before. I had felt his
presence in the past and He had spoken to me many times through His word,
people, and even situations. The message that I got from Him that night was "I
am not finished with you yet." For whatever reason, however much of a
failure I felt like I was, God still wanted to use me. As I reflected on the events that happened, I
saw that God had protected me from wrecking my life by protecting me from the
many dangers and consequences I could have faced. Even in my sin and despair,
He was still there. Even though I had stopped reaching out for Him, He did not
abandon me.
Please come back tomorrow to read the second part of Natalie's story...
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