A friend’s guidance showed me my current purpose. Purposes change over a lifetime. God sees the big picture of why we are here on earth, but we only see a chapter at a time as we amble through life. I am going to tell a story about the past few years that I faced, wondering what my new purpose would be and how my purpose was right under my nose. It took a special friend to point me to it.
Over my seven plus decades I have faced many different chapters with many responsibilities. I grew up, married, had children, took care of a parent until her death, and became a widow. Each chapter has its own story. Becoming a widow had a surprising result. I found I had no idea how to put myself on the front burner. l felt lost. I realized I needed to find a meaningful reason to get up every morning. I was a quilter and tried filling my time with family bound and charity quilts, but something was missing. I have moved around most of my life so family and friends were not near by. What was I going to do?
A few years ago I joined Facebook to keep track of family members in TX, where my original roots began, CO, CA, AZ, and kids, grandkids, and great grandkids throughout the state of WA where I now live. I had become somewhat of a recluse, so Facebooking fit right in. I had few Facebook friends and used my page to write my thoughts, not caring who read my posts. Few did. One day a person sent me a friend request soon after I wrote an opinion piece about Robin Williams’ suicide. I am bipolar and suspected he was as well. Devastating depression is probably 80% of Bipolar experiences. I was surprised that anyone had read my post.
That friend request and his response was the beginning of a friendship that I greatly value to this day. He commented on the Robin Williams story I wrote. He said that it sounded like I had some insight and understanding on mental issues. I said yes I did, and told him I was Bipolar, and was well versed on mental issues. Turns out he was founder of World Think Tank and thought having a discussion on mental illness would be a good topic for the group with me overseeing it as sort of a moderator. I agreed. We tried to get a dialog going. The topic never took hold.
I did not know it at the time, but this new friend had a passion and drive to communicate on a vast array of subjects and platforms. World Think Tank, Chandler-Gilbert Think Tank, Atridum News Journal, a blog on WordPress, and his personal Facebook page were just the tip of the iceberg for his endeavors. I found he had a sharp mind, and a giving heart to boot. I also learned that he was active in supporting his community and was not afraid to speak his mind. I didn’t know it at the time but a gold mind had landed at my feet, and I had fallen smack dab into the middle of it.
He turned his attention on me becoming a blogger. He thought I had something valuable to say about mental issues, and since the effort on WTT didn’t take off this was another avenue to pursue. I had no clue how to even begin so he patiently guided me in setting up a blog on WordPress. We spent hours sending emails to each other with directions for me to follow. I would get step one, then step two and so on until I had an up and running blog of my very own.
I published about 15 articles. One was on bullies, one was a suggestion on how Michael Brown’s mother could make a difference in turning troubled kids around. I also wrote intimate pieces about my own journey about being bipolar. I gained a fairly nice following, but reading a duplication of my own pain became too unbearable.
I felt terribly guilty when I stopped writing on my blog because of all the time my friend had invested in me. He was gracious and did not say a word of reprimand. I continued to be active in WTT and joined CGTT and agreed to be a guest reporter on his Atridim News Journal, and his personal Facebook page. That entailed sharing things from Facebook that seemed news worthy and commenting on other’s posts in the two tanks. Occasionally I wrote an “Editorial” piece sharing my opinions. I received numerous “Stated with Excellences” awards from my friend. I got thank- yous for supporting his sites as well. He seemed to like what I wrote and was generous in letting me know that my opinions were valued. I think he saw that I enjoyed writing. On one occasion he pointed out that he saw a Journalistic eye in my writing. He invited me to be a guest contributor on his WordPress blog. He mentioned Fake News as a starter. ( I have since written a seris of three on that subject on my own blog.) I said sure. While we were in the process of setting that up he threw out a question. Would I rather be a guest on his blog or begin again blogging on my own. I shared my concerns on being pigeon holed as a mental illness blogger. Shortly I got a surprise email. He said “look at your blog”. To my surprise it now has a new name. It was now AHUELON News Journal instead of A Bipolar Journey. I can’t remember why I used ahuelon in the begging. It had something to do with finding a name that did not have hundreds of the same name on search engines. My brother’s middle name was Huelon and we just stuck an A in front. My real name and story can be found in the two menu’s on my blog home page. Anyway I chose to begin blogging on my page, again.
Here is where purpose enters into my story. I had become concerned that I was feeling that there was little purpose left in my journey. My friend skillfully guided me back to where I belonged. He answered a question I had not asked, WHAT IS MY PURPOSE.
So today I sit here with many subjects floating around in my mind that I want to write about. I am not concerned if I get an audience or not. I had thoughts about writing a book some years ago and tabled that idea . Short essays and story telling seem to fit my style. I love to ask questions, compare social issues based on my 70 plus years of experiences and observation, and I love to challenge and encourage people to think for themselves. I want to help stomp out lazy thinking, and inspire healthy debate.
- So here is a huge thank you and long distance hug to my friend who never gave up on what he saw in me and helped me see it as well.