Origins of Mr. Bellweather




It seems like Mr. Bellweather has always been around but its been less than a year since my mind created him. My first thoughts were of someone mysterious who was also compassionate, kind and who enjoys encouraging others and making them smile. Those are some qualities that I strive for in my personal life. They say to write what you know and those are things I enjoy. If I am going to spend countless hours a day writing this story while also battling and struggling with multiple mental disorders, why not have a Main Character who brings out the best in me, along for the ride.

I mentioned mental disorders and I would like to touch on that subject briefly here in my 1st post. I have been diagnosed with OCD and that leads to sometimes crippling Social Anxiety and Depression. I have also been diagnosed as being Bi-Polar. I am 41 years old and I have never had one day where I didn’t have to battle at least one of these disorders. They never go away and they are a constant in my life. It is sometimes brutal, sometimes horrific but over time I have developed the coping skills needed to get through each day. I will reveal more details and stories as this blog unfolds.

I have an amazing wife and amazing doesn’t do her justice. She is absolutely my best friend and we spend most of our time with our two daughters who are truly a blessing from GOD. We dedicate all of our time in raising them to be kind and compassionate, respectful people.

I have always been ultra creative. Its a nice “side effect” of my OCD. My mind is constantly creating to the point it wears me out and I cannot turn it off. It also enables me to think of funny things to say at lightning speed.

So, I am currently trying my best to write a novel with Mr. Bellweather at the center. Several months ago, I created a Twitter page and began chatting with writers, agents and anyone who loved books. I began chatting with an agent one day, someone who I had chatted with before and she became curious about Mr. Bellweather (and me I suppose). In a nutshell she assumed I was a writer. I quickly set her straight that I was not. The idea was almost comical to me. A writer? Me? I cant even work at a job. I am disabled. A writer? lol I’m a dad and a husband and a child of GOD and I am proud of those things. A writer is someone with talent who has spent their life reading and writing and studying the craft. I have done very little of that. She still believed it though. So one day I wrote something just for her. I came up with the names Archie(Archibald) and Elsa and when I had written a few paragraphs, I sent it to her and she thought it was great and she said, “Parker, you are a writer!” I cried. I couldn’t be. Could I? This person knows what she’s talking about. Right? I mean it is her profession. I believed I was a writer for about 48 hours and then my mental disorders told me different. That I was nothing. That she was just being kind. I have been battling between those two thoughts for 3 months now. I still don’t know.

Here is what I wrote for her….

“A robust wind swept the last remaining leaf off an old oak tree and carried it up high and over the hilltop. It rode effortlessly on the wind stream and down into the valley where at last, with a drawn down whisper of a breeze it was collected out of the cool dry air with a young strong hand. Archibald had dropped one of the three metal containers he was carrying to catch the leaf. He thought it looked like a butterfly that had too much to drink. Spinning, flopping end over end as if it was a court jester. Its flaming red color, a sign of the seasons changing, reminded him of Elsa and her fiery head of hair. He placed the leaf in the metal bowl and picked it up off the ground. He knew that Elsa would be waiting. He could already hear her sweet voice teasing him about being late and wondering what daydream kept him this time. These were dark days in a land once filled with song. He stopped in hopes that a tune his mom had once sung to him had maybe gotten lost, caught up in the wind and had not followed her to where she went. He wondered if she was singing there in that place where fallen saints go? If melody’s danced in treetops there? Trees that had leaves that did not die but did change colors. Like the fiery one that had found him this morning. The one like…..Elsa was waiting.”

I have written a little more on this story but my ability to focus is greatly limited by my mental disorders. I have not read a novel in over a year. I have not read my Bible in over a year. In 3 months I have written about 3,000 words on my story. I am a prisoner in my own mind but I battle everyday to write. I have been depressed and sad and sometimes I wonder if I will ever be able to write this story. Will it be possible? Everyday I almost quit. Some days I will write something so quickly that I think, “I’m brilliant!” lol But that quickly fades and I am sad again. I cant wait to tell you more and I hope you come along with me and Mr. Bellweather as we travel this path towards….towards I don’t know. It will be heart wrenching at times. Joyous at times. Come and laugh and cry with me. I could use your encourage, advice and a your friendship. Until next time. (((BIG HUG))) just for you. 🙂


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