Podcast Interview on The Kota, Writing, and More

What do you get when you put 2 musicians, a writer, a recording device, and a few beers together?
The best bar conversation you’re ever going to eavesdrop.

Many thanks to Justin Stover of Blue Collar Songwriting for the rare opportunity to be interviewed alongside my brother, Christian Somerville, who co-created The Kota Series worlds with me.  This was tons of fun.

May or may not contain:
Stories of how The Kota originated
The influences of family on creativity
My writing history
Why I love indie publishing
Connections between indie writing and indie music
Taylor Swift shout-outs

Enjoy!

https://bluecollarsongwriting.com/2016/05/24/bcs-podcast-sunshine-christian-somerville/

TPH Promo

May – Mental Health Awareness Month

TPH Charity Promo Small
This month, I’m donating all proceeds from my novella, The Poet Heroic, to the Patient Assistance Fund for Pine Rest Christian Mental Health Services, which is a  local facility that helps people with counseling, detox, etc.  Absolutely 100% of this fund goes towards helping people pay for treatments they might not otherwise be able to afford.

Why I’m doing this: 
Last Fall, one of my close friends committed suicide.   I was writing The Poet Heroic at the time, and I constantly thought of my friend as I wrote because he was a twin and my main character is a twin.  This book affected me emotionally in ways I wasn’t expecting as a result.  It was only fitting that I dedicated the book:

“In loving memory of Jeff, and for anyone else struggling to find the light.” 

No one knew my friend was struggling.  As far as we know, he never asked for help.  His loss hit us all very hard – for many reasons – but one of the hardest things is that he never asked for help and so we were never able to help him.  Many of us were left with this feeling that we just wanted to DO SOMETHING.  We wanted others who might be struggling to know it’s okay to ask for help.  We wanted others to be able to get help.

So, this is something I can DO.  In the few weeks I’ve been working on this month-long event, I’ve heard touching stories from many people who have suffered with depression.  I’ve heard touching stories from people who have a loved one struggling with mental health issues.  I’ve had many people join me because they too want to DO SOMETHING to help.  I’ve been very touched by all of the support and donations, and we’ve got a few weeks to go!!

If you’d like to be part of this event, join us at http://bit.ly/MentalHealthAwarenessEvent

If you’d like to enter a raffle for 50+ ebooks! and help spread the word, enter at https://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/5acd3f201/

If you’d like to add to my donation to the Patient Assistance Fund, (THANK YOU!), see http://bit.ly/ThePoetHeroicBonusGiving

If you’d like to buy a copy of The Poet Heroic and donate that way, go to http://bit.ly/ThePoetHeroicPurchaseDonation

Please, use this month to raise your own awareness, maybe ask for help yourself, and be especially supportive of those struggling with mental health issues.

About my vague health posts lately…

Here’s what’s been going on with me:
 ***
A few weeks ago while in the shower, I thought I got shampoo in my eye because I had sudden patches in my left eye’s vision.  This stupidity seemed very typical of me, and I didn’t think too much of it.  After a week, these grey patches had quieted into a small blurry spot in the center of my vision. Then, while trying to relax in a jacuzzi at my parents’ house, the patches suddenly returned. The next morning I went to my mom’s ophthalmologist, and thus began one of the scariest times of my life.
  ***
The ophthalmologist took pictures that showed my left eye was hemorrhaging “like an eye mini-stroke,” and the pooling blood was causing my blind spot.  (You know when you have a vision test and you’re supposed to read the letters?  I couldn’t even see the giant E at the top.)  I was sent semi-emergently to a retinal specialist in Grand Rapids, and there further pictures and an angiogram confirmed that my eye was hemorrhaging in about 8-10 places.  The pics of my eye looked like craters on the moon.  Also, for some reason the blood flow into my eye was slow – 20 seconds when it should be about 4.  It wasn’t inflamed enough to suggest an arterial occlusion, so that was some good news.  But if it developed into an occlusion, that could mean I’d lose my vision entirely.
  ***
Thing is, this should not happen in someone my age with absolutely zero risk factors.  (I’m pretty sure the specialist thought I was lying when I kept answering “No” to his ROS questions.)  So, the specialist ordered about 14 blood tests and an MRI/MRA to sort out what the hell could be causing this.  He sent me home – my eyes fully dilated for 10+ hours and exhausted without any treatment – with the knowledge only that “it could be something pretty scary.”  (A terrible thing to tell a medical transcriptionist, btw.  Knowing the multitude of things that COULD be wrong = hypochondriac freakout.)  Then, because of some office snafus, my MRI wasn’t properly scheduled and no one bothered to call me for 4 days until my mom called to yell at them.  So I went from being treated as an emergency on Monday to not hearing anything for the rest of the week.  DID.  NOT.  HELP.
  ***
Since my eye externally looks completely normal and I’ve had no pain whatsoever, this all would’ve gone completely undetected were in not for my blurry vision.  But something is “seriously wrong” as an underlying mystery diagnosis. Plus now I’m afraid to bathe because that seems to be a hemorrhage trigger.  So that’s awesome.
IMG_6431
This has all been completely new to me.  Aside from having strep so often as a child that I had to have my tonsils out, I’ve had near-perfect health my whole life.  I’ve sprained several ankles, sure, but I’ve never been diagnosed with anything, never been on medication, never had a cavity, and I’ve never worn contacts or glasses.  I have NEVER taken my health for granted.  I have felt incredibly blessed my whole life to have the health I’ve had.  So maybe I’m due, I don’t know.
  ***
As an avid reader, as a writer, and as an artist, the possibility of losing my sight is heartbreaking.  As someone planning a wedding and finally making plans for a future I’m looking forward to, being told I might have something that could kill me (“do not exert yourself” was expressed, as a blood clot was another possibility) is even more terrifying.
  ***
I don’t do well not having control, and I was properly freaked out for a good while.  I hate not knowing.  At least if I knew what this was, I could find a way to cope, to prepare, or to move forward.  But the not knowing is the hardest part for me.  (They HAVE ruled out the random test for syphilis, so I guess that’s something.)
  ***
But here’s the thing:  It’s always during times of freaking out that I feel most held.  You are free to not believe in God, but I do.  During my times of fear, I always feel like God goes, “Ah-ha, see? This is what I’m here for,” and then I feel cocooned in a love/peace that I can’t explain.  This has happened time and again, and it’s happened now.  I again have reached a place of acceptance that I’m not in control, and “let whatever happens happen” is an incredibly freeing headspace to be in. I don’t want to go blind or die; I want to live.  But at least I’m being given time to evaluate and appreciate the life I’ve had.  This too, in a way, is a blessing.
  ***
And that’s not all.  For a long time in my life, I didn’t let people in.  I didn’t let people help me.  (I certainly never would have publicly acknowledged that I was terrified.)  Now, going through THIS crisis, I feel incredibly blessed to have so many people who genuinely care about me.
  • I have a mother who’s been a saint through this whole process.
  • I have a dad who I know would do anything for me.
  • I have a brother who was willing to watch my monster-cat while I stayed at our childhood home because he knew I needed to feel safe.
  • I have a fiancé who’s called every day to check on me while he’s been out of state for work, and I know he’s worried but trying to joke and keep me calm.
  • I have future in-laws who’ve taken it upon themselves to become MRI/MRA experts.
  • I have friends I’ve known since childhood who demand updates. (My phone now knows to auto-fill “hemorrhage.”)
  • I have college friends who’ve expressed concern and willingness to help however they can.
  • I have a friend in Florida who called because she figured out that that might be easier for me than emailing since the whole problem is my vision.
  • I have a church family who prayed for me the second they heard the news.
  • I have family who’ve expressed their love in a variety of ways.
  • I have online friends I’ve never met who don’t know what specifically is going on but express unquestioning compassion whenever I post something about needing mental/emotional/spiritual support.
Please know that I do not take any of you for granted.  Your kind words and thoughts are extremely appreciated.
IMG_6462
During my checkup this week, a visiting retinal specialist from the Philippines was shown a picture of my retinal hemorrhage and said, “Wow, that’s so rare I could have gone my whole life without seeing one.”  My specialist reviewed my blood work and found basically nothing (thereafter getting creative and ordering a test for what is essentially cat scratch fever).  I did finally have my MRI/MRA, and fortunately that came back as a normal study free of occlusions or vascular malformations.  (Ever had an MRI?  It was very hard for me to come out of the machine and not say to the tech, “I know Kung Fu.”) But basically, nothing so far hints at the cause of this anomaly.  We decided/joked that maybe I would have this named after me, although we agreed “Sunshine Disease” doesn’t sound scary enough.
  ***
So now?  My left eye’s vision has improved to 20/40, so that’s something I can live with.  But it might never get better, and at any time I could hemorrhage again so it gets worse.  On the one hand, it is wonderful to hear all the negative results of these tests.  On the other,  there is NO diagnosis and I’ll never know if this could happen again of if something worse could happen.  Right now, there’s no way to treat this mysterious underlying cause.
  ***
So I’m still a bit freaked. I still need your prayers, bright thoughts, positive vibes – whatever you’ve got to throw my way.  But I’m trying to hold to that feeling of being held and reminding myself to trust and let go.   It helps nothing by being tense.  And I think it’s important to appreciate the blessings I have, now more than ever.
***
  • I feel fine and still “have my health.”
  • I can see well enough.
  • I’m not in pain.
  • I have a God who probably knows what He’s doing.
  • I have my people.
  • And at least I won’t die of syphilis.

#TopTenTuesday – Jeff

Last night, many gathered to say goodbye to one of the best people I’ve ever known.  As I said to someone, “This is the first thing I’ve ever not liked about Jeff.”  If you know me at all, you know it’s really significant that I never found anything I didn’t like about him.  Jeff was a little man, but his absence will be an enormous hole we’ll all feel every time we gather.

Several people at the visitation last night told me how much they appreciated seeing all the pictures I’d taken of Jeff over the years.  In the smallest of ways, it made me feel a little better to know I’d been able to witness and document so many truly excellent Jeff moments.  Here are my favorites.

Top 10 Favorite Jeff Memories:

321:   Camping Cartwheels.  I had a fractured arm.  Jeff and Dan were considerably tipsy.  Why not choose that moment to learn how to do a cartwheel?  There’s video of this on Facebook, but I think these pictures capture the gist.  At the very least, it sums up Jeff’s willingness to try new things.  “Jeff, can you do a cartwheel?”  Jeff: “Absolutely not, but what the hell,” before handing his beer to Dan and having me literally flip him into a cartwheel.


1472:   Porch Nights.  When some of us girls lived in a house together, we regularly had Porch Nights where the group would gather, sit around, drink, play games, and talk about nonsense, TV, our lives, and philosophy.  Jeff was always right in the middle of it.  I can remember being inside and hearing his infectious laughter out on the porch, and at least a part of me always smiled.


1236958_653285365251_1840961993_n3:   Jeff and Ari.  (Yep, this is where I start crying.)  Jeff was an awesome godparent.  I was never sure who seemed happier to see who – Jeff or Ari.  But there was a special bond there, and it always made me so happy to see.


427503_602850911301_1183354188_n4:   Catfish Ninja.  I can honestly say that Jeff and Dan were the only campers to ever catch one of the needy but skittish catfish in my grandmother’s lake.  It was at the every end of a camping trip, but it happened.  (This after HOURS of Jeff sitting on the end of the dock trying to reach in and grab them by hand, hence that year’s Jeff name of Catfish Ninja.)


149509_533026095791_7026604_n5:   Drunken Headbutting.  I don’t actually know if this was a Jeff “thing” or it only happened occasionally.  I kind of think he did it to make everyone get on his level.  And since I now live with a cat who does this as a sign of affection, I think that was part of it too.


5452_519725405481_152000781_30842750_2442717_n6:   The Mermaid Pose.  My grandmother’s lake where we always went camping was a bit weedy, to put it mildly.  One year, Jeff decided to make this happen and then insisted that I do a photo shoot.


DSCN22337:  Mardi Gras Fish Face.  Don’t remember why he wanted an aquarium on his face.  Do remember that he wouldn’t sit still while trying to do it.  The fact that his mouth is done so badly proves that he wouldn’t stop talking.


1738:  …This  As Brooke said, “For every event there is a ‘Jeff Picture.’ It never fails to delight.”


5452_519725225841_152000781_30842734_6340590_n9:   Out on a Limb This tree WAS begging to be climbed.  Dan was slightly more graceful, but Jeff hanging upside down is what made me laugh until I cried.  How he did it with a beer I’ll never know.


10: Last Second Thursday Supper.  While preparing to go to the visitation, I found the receipt for the last dinner I shared with Jeff.  It was also the last time I saw him.  Only a few of us were able to go, which in a way I’m glad of because it meant I got to talk to Jeff more than I might have if the whole group had been there.  The restaurant had been his suggestion, and it was certainly not a place I ever would have thought to try on my own.  It was excellent.  And that is so Jeff to me – he had a way of finding the good stuff.  Whether food or film or music or book or idea or person – he found the good stuff.  I will miss his recommendations and that happy smirk he got when you agreed with him about it.

A Pause…

I don’t have it in me to write a #TheFourFriday today.  Last night, my closest group of friends received the worst possible news you can get about a friend.  We sat around for a few hours together, shellshocked, trying to individually and as a group process what it meant that our friend had taken his own life.

I’m a writer.  I process by writing my thoughts and feelings down, so bear with me as I get this out.  I’ve now had about 12 hours to sort out my reaction.  I know the stages of grief, and I don’t know exactly where I’m at, but I know a lot of words that apply to this situation.

Denial. Shock. Confusion. Anger. Guilt. Mourning. Unreal. Sorrow. Regret. Love. Why? Why? Why?

But the thing is, it all boils down to the word… Sad.  It is sad that my friend chose to take his life.  It is sad that none of us saw this coming.  It is sad that we all would have tried to help if we’d known.  It is sad that he left people who love him.  It is sad he couldn’t find the light.  It is sad that he is gone.  I am sad that he is gone.  We are sad that he is gone.

And I want to say, for anyone struggling with something to the point that it is dragging you into darkness, PLEASE talk.  Say something.  Ask for guidance.  If it gets to the point where you want it to end, make one last effort to reach out and get help.  People love you.  There is ALWAYS someone who will want to help.

I also want to say that I’m incredibly grateful for the people around me:
The friend whose phone wasn’t working and so drove over to tell me this news in person.
The friends who welcomed everyone into their home late at night to grieve together.
The man I love who was intuitive enough to go get us whiskey and bourbon when tea just wasn’t cutting it.
The parents I informed because I know they care about the people I care about.
The brother I texted because I knew he would know how I was feeling.

God bless, all.

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