Mental Health Writing Bipolar

Today I Am Sprouting Branches

Thank you to everyone who read and commented on the last blog post I Want To Write, But What About My Shame? Yesterday I had my best day for views and readers ever, and I appreciate everyone that commented and told me a bit about their journey.

We need to network, we need to speak up, we need to write. We never have to worry about too many voices joining the dialogue. There is room for everyone’s story, we are all unique, no one will step on toes. And each person who comes forward brings others with them.

One day, there will be no need for silence. Won’t that be brilliant?

So, on a high from yesterday, I joined some writing sprints this morning with one of my writer’s groups, The Creative Academy for Writers. I have a deadline to meet; I have a rough draft to complete by March first. And today I wrote three essays for that memoir. I think I can do this. And, if I do, it will be the first time I have reached a goal on something “work” related. Wow. I won’t crow yet. There are still essays to complete. But I am feeling good.

It is a lovely afternoon. Hot and bright, my perfect weather. I feel like I am on vacation.

Both Glenn and I have gained weight while we were apart for three months. Sitting on my ass on the terrace and not venturing out, getting lazy, well, I am dealing with the repercussions.

So off we went, down the hill, on a saunter to a late lunch. Exercise. And a pact to do this every day. Tomorrow we add our Pilates back in. We want six-packs. Right now we both have a keg around our middles.

In Colonia San Antonio we stopped at La Frontera, welcomed by some of our favorite servers, sat under umbrellas, and drank wine. A perfect place for social distancing. We haven’t been in this area of town for a while.

And I started talking. And talking and talking. I was sprouting tree branches, blossoming thoughts.

Glenn asked me, “what are you going to do when you finish your memoirs?” “What happens when you don’t write anymore?”

Que? What? Stop writing? NO!

I have a third book planned. I told him all about it. It requires travel. Perfect! And mental health. Even better.

By the end of the meal, I had three others in the works, in my mind. And I tossed in one or two new Facebook groups for good measure. I love to bounce ideas off of Glenn. I don’t allow him to say much. He will take me off my pace. I have to keep going. But it is nice to have him there.

I don’t want to look like Cate Blanchett in Blue Jasmine.

I know my books won’t be completed for 2, 3, 4 years. But I need to rush now, hurry home to write my notes. Do a mind-map. Share with others. More thoughts need to be captured before they dissolve in smoke. I do that, have too many ideas, logical or otherwise, and get beyond myself, scramble to remember it all at the end of the day. Then frustration sets in. I’m overloaded.

I get sharp-tempered. Be quiet, I think! You are taking up space in my head. Whoosh goes another concept. I missed it. Next time. Next one.

Walking home, I felt the up, coming down, the buzz inside subsiding, sinking me, but not in a good way. I hear warning bells. I know what that means. I have to get out of my way.

HOME, our terrace, another glass of wine, the upcoming sunset, a sky filled with color. Beauty. It is Friday afternoon. The sounds of the weekend filter up the hill. I remember I am in Mexico. Tranquilo is my new mantra. Relax, breathe.

There is time for everything.

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2 Comments

  • Reply
    Christine Zaremba
    February 27, 2021 at 10:32 am

    Ria, you crack me up! I’m totally picturing that last scene of Blue Jasmine where she’s muttering to herself. And I totally agree, there is room for everyone’s voice and story. Sometimes the voices overlap and converge because of shared experiences, but that’s the point! Literacy is a powerful tool that unites humanity, and promotes both progress and understanding. In these times we need to branch out more than ever!

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    • Reply
      Ria Talken
      February 28, 2021 at 6:14 am

      I love that movie! Glenn describes me as her, and at times he is not far off. I have loved talking to you about writing a memoir, and what it tugs out of you. Take your time, write in increments and the work will get easier.

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