Virtually Holding A Good Friend’s Hand.

A friend of mine recently spoke out on her blog about her bipolar disorder and how it has affected her life. Reading her blog I can easily say I ‘get it’- it’s so much easier to hide inside yourself, then to face the world when things just don’t make sense. I think for me when I’m ‘down’ it’s really about things emotionally not syncing up or making sense, and when I’m manic things make too much sense. Then when/if ever in the middle it’s nothing but panic over how confusing both sides are when they try to mesh.

My good friend discusses her coping mechanisms with her animals, and for me it was always writing. I never realized that until as I read her blog I thought I wrote something that would go great with that. Now, as my little ribbon of support for my friend for her journey in hitting the world and allowing people see inside her, I’m going to post a few things that I’ve hidden in a notebook clearly marked ‘do not enter’ and ‘Meg’s soul’.

Inside the notebook is a catalog of my ups, but mostly my downs, many pages marked with initials and years they were written. Why I’ve done this is because to me I think everything should matter. Everything should be remembered to some degree, so as to not repeat things that only cause disruption from enjoying life.

The first item up on this personal journey is a piece written in 1995, I was between 15-16 years old. Titled Tomorrow’s Way, it approaches how quickly moods and emotions can change.

There’s a rage that’s filling up in me.
Can’t let go, can’t you see?
Pressure now is growing strong.
Gonna change, won’t be long.

Where’s the end of the pain?
No tomorrow, and it’s raining.

Where’s the future place of hope?
How am I supposed to cope,
With you staring down at me,
Making me feel so unlucky?

There’s a place I know there is.
Place of love, and not haunted.
By a ghostly memory of the past,
That I’ll never see… again.

Go away the poisoned rain.
Crying now won’t ease the pain.

The past to me is my future now.
Wait and see, I’ll show you how.

When ever after was happily.
When laughter brought the sun shining.
Rainbows came after the rain.
Stars woke up in a dream.

My troubles seem over now.
Guess again…
Too tired to wake up anyhow.

So, you think my world seems easy.
Just remember not to tease me.

Now you see my life’s a breakin’.
But you’re the one whose a shakin’.

Worry less, I’m not quite dreamless.
Rainbows brought the sun shining.
In my little world of sorrow.
And yet, there’s hope for tomorrow.

Another piece I found has no title, and was written Jan. 24th, 1999. It was written when I was asked by my mother to really consider life, and figure out what it means to me. Where was I heading to? This is sort of a conversation about life between her and I a way to say I ‘get it’ in a sense. She passed away four years later, and I don’t believe she ever got to read it. I’d like to dedicate this to a mom, who to me was in many ways the mom of all moms. She was truly one held together woman and since her death, my inspiration to keep her memory alive in hopes that what she contributed to the world will somehow keep getting out there. I was 19 when this was written.

Mama, please don’t tell me you’re leaving.
Mama, tell me daddy’s not going to.
Stand by me and guide me,
And I’ll do the same for you.

Mama said do a little soul searching,
And you’ll find all the answers you need.
But the world out there my dear,
is more confused than you’ll ever be.

Mama, I thought you’d be here forever.
Who knew it had to end.
Mama, please tell me how love is terror,
Then maybe you’ll stay.

Mama said listen to the memories,
You’d know that you’d never forget me.
Someday soon you’ll know,
How much I love you too.

Mama, I hear you singing like an angel.
In time those words will heal these wounds.
Mama, life’s too precious to wait for dying.
You taught me how to give, and give I will.

This next piece is called Be Thankful, written Nov. 15th, 1999.
It was written as way to identify with myself, why I matter, and I’ve never really shown it off cause it’s too real to think of myself this way, but here it goes…

Be thankful dear child,
Your heart’s in the right place.
Your love will teach those,
Who have fallen from grace.

Your eyes will see through,
All that’s shallow,
Your dreams will reach beyond,
And soon others will follow.

Your hands will steadily hold,
those who tremble.
Your hope will guide those,
who are simple.

Your smile will shine beauty,
On that which is not.
Your faith will extend,
past that which is taught.

You’re an angel without wings,
with a halo that’s unseen.
Be thankful dear child.
For this is your dream.

To mend a broken heart, is to be thankful.

That’s a glimpse into cataloging ups and downs of my bipolar, things I’ve though and felt. How I’ve identified with myself and my surroundings. I’m willing to bet it’s not far off from what a lot of people feel, but the difference, is when I’m down the world feels like it’s over, and I have to convince myself there’s a way to get past it. When it’s going too well, I have to convince myself I can find normalcy, and fit in where I do belong.

In truth everyone belongs or we wouldn’t exist. Our madness and our strengths gives us reason to feel in the first place. It’s how we make sense of our lives. It’s okay to be mad as sin, and it’s alright to feel on top of the world, it’s always a challenge to accept existing in between. Some how the dramatic affect of being radically one way or the other makes life easier when you learn how to ride the wave of insanity. How do you cope?


Book Update.

Here’s where I’m at on the series. Book 1 I finished revising recently to the point I’ve decided to submit it to agents. Cross your fingers for me.

Book 2, I also revised recently, but it still has some minimal work needed. Though, I’ve managed to create a summary for each chapter in each book in the latest revisions. This has led me to realize this story is pretty big and a long way off from being finished.

Book 3 I have recently drafted up it’s plot line. For my betas, I’m just going to apologize in advance. I have major plans in store for this one, and frankly the characters are screaming for their own attention and I’m not sure I’ll be writing this one out in order. I might be writing it bit by bit in order to accomplish what I’d like. I might even start at the end and work backwards as the ending has been in my head for so long it’s begging to be written. So you’ll be waiting awhile.

As I wrote out book 3 I came across enough info that I’m not sure how I’m going to handle it. I may end up revising a lot of it out, it may never get written, or it may end up in an additional book in the series.

Everything Falls Into Place

I just had a piece of book three completely write itself out. Amazing too, cause it pulled together so much of the story. So much, that I am now working on different pieces at once as I can’t avoid it. This is almost insanity at it’s best.

Don’t forget 100 Monkey’s on The Baub Show tonight.

BFF’s Headlong Into a Dream.

I am double posting tonight, because I had a significant break from my normal life. I was in Dallas with someone who is one of my dearest besties, and also in many ways one of my long lost soul sisters. She’s incredible, and tolerant of me where I might say other wouldn’t be. The most intriguing part to this is while she is the main element, she is married to a very interesting man whom I believe is also the kind of husband to be deemed a trusting friend- on top of being my BFF’s hubby.

See, unlike even my own husband, at least in current status (we have a prearranged agreement about to blow up in his face,) he supports his wife and even her friends. And to that I simply have to say he’s the first male who has read as far into my rough manuscript as he has and kept reading, admitting he’s involved. I love this, because my story has a depth from my opinion that could be taken in by both sexes equally. Admittedly limited on the masculine side as it’s a love story, but he’s still reading.

So, I at that moment realized that some of your biggest ‘fans’ initially come from your first supporters. Friends, family, so on. Between the two of them, they are my fan base currently. After spending a weekend with them allowing me to occupy too much time with too many questions about my story I’ve come to think maybe I’m further into my process than I thought. Now is the time to expand.

Now I have a plan, I no longer feel like I’m drifting on waters that can’t decide whether to ebb or flow. There’s a current, and it’s headlong in the best possible direction. I will definitely be in print before the end of the year. One way or another, come hell or high water.

The weekend was awesome and rejuvenating. My over zapped energy replenished from a well of balance that they obviously provided, simultaneously. This should be fun, and lots of it.

For a wonderful pair- here’s a glimpse at something that I think will be directly resourced for my fans who will stick through the series, the fans guide.


The Series Guide

Bad Flight Gone Right.

I flew back from Dallas tonight. Not only was my flight delayed the minute I woke up this morning, but I landed in snow falling, and some mid-flight hell broke loose.  A calm flight suddenly and utterly briefly turbulent resulted in two very shocking things happening at once.

I had my notebook out, which will eventually be the guide to the series I’m writing. Every page is virtually full. With that in mind I had a few items that needed to be jotted down. I found one of the very few clean unused pages, began what I needed to- got two lines done, and boom plane drops, jumps, stutters, then slows. Coffee from my neighbor flies and soaks her and her friend.  I think oh (insert expletive deletive here)!

Now I’ve flown enough to realize I’ve been through way worse. It was very quick, and over by the *ding* of the seat belt sign going back on. No problem, but being so quick and obnoxious there’s that split second where you internal have to decide- should I be panicking? With a few screaming college kids you half wonder.

Still feeling a little stunned I looked down realizing I’d been directly handed a distraction, and I’d been subtly initiated. I had been inked! My pen out of nowhere started flowing, a few drops hit the page and my fingers were sticky with blackness. There was nothing wrong with my pen. It just helped me quickly forget I felt like I was falling out of the sky, and  was then suddenly very aware that I am definitely now a writer- a dirty, difficult, challenging, and emotional job. I have no doubt this story is going to be told.

I quickly snapped pictures, because, well, it felt a bit like a memory to be kept for some odd reason. It’s significant to me somehow I can’t fully wrap my mind around. It’s almost like a message being sent. I saved the napkin I used to clean the mess, and in a very egotistical and goofy manner thought how funny would it be if I succeed, to sign that napkin and send it to a fan of the book when it’s complete. Let’s face it, it’s very silly right? But no matter how hard I told myself it’s a piece of inked up napkin, I couldn’t trash it. It could be  a totem for a job well done, and a gracious thank you to the other half of the circle that is always involved in the entertainment world. 50/50 all the way between entertainer and fan.

So, I decided to add a few pics of this somehow eye-opening moment of accepting a writer- bad punctuation and grammar aside- is what I am.

Initiation remembered

Bad Flight gone right.


Bad Flight gone right.


Bad Flight gone right.

Shot of the napkin and ink-blackened fingers.

Initiated into writerhood

So, who didn’t want to be the Little Mermaid?

I used to love this movie and song.  So I was just messing around, because my other song I’m actually working on doesn’t have great tracks available.  So for those of us who refuse to fully grow up.

ETA: This is generally not a ‘big’ girl’s song FYI… lol Hence the title of the video, however, this is taken from the ‘B-Way version.’