again with the blogging

Arya has been rerooted. I remove her freckles and rosy cheeks soon. I’m trying to decide if I should paint the dirt smudges on her face or just use dirt. I may use real dirt on her outfit as well. The amusing part about that is having to go buy dirt.

I know, that sounds ridiculous, there’s free dirt outside. Normally I’d agree with you, but I live in GA. Everything is that horrible terra cotta red. I don’t think it would look too authentic since Westeros is based on the UK.

I need to order hair for Daenerys and Sansa but things are a bit tight right now. I’m selling some collectors dolls (nrfb) to try to fund this. We’ll see how that goes.

I have a chest cold (or the plague, depending on who you ask) so I’m not feeling up to getting out of bed.when I’m better I shall post new pictures.

Until then, be well and hopefully Season 2 does start on April 1st, as the rumors are saying.

2011, thank you and goodbye

This year has been rather interesting.

I discovered that I am bipolar this year. The diagnosis was a surprise, but once I read more about it and discussed it with my psychiatrist I felt that it was correct. Everything that I’ve gone through since my early teens fell into place and became far less weird and confusing. I spent years manic (and sometimes hypo-manic) and had no idea that this was different from other people. I thought everyone had years that they didn’t sleep more than three hours each night. I thought everyone felt as overwhelmed by stimuli as I did, but were just better at acting as though it didn’t. I worked hard at seeming normal. I constantly fought with myself to stay under control.

Then the depression would hit. I’d fall into a pit of darkness and it took everything in me to keep from escaping it by harming myself. I’ve never thought of suicide as a cowards way out. I still don’t, especially when the person is mentally ill. It isn’t being a coward that drives them, it’s the conclusion that the world would be better off without them. I understand that, I’ve felt it. 

I never thought medication would change my life, but it really has. I am far calmer, more balanced. This isn’t to say that I no longer become depressed or that everything is fine. This will be something I battle for the rest of my life. Now, I have hope. In those darkest moments, when everything seems lost, I manage to hold onto that hope by the tiniest thread.

My husband is wonderful. He has been frustrated and stressed, but now he sees that my being irrational isn’t intentional. He knows that I find it more frustrating than he does and that I am working hard to do everything I can in battling this mental illness. He’s also learned to laugh with me at the completely random things that pop into my head and right out of my mouth.

I am not, nor have ever been, a danger to others. I do everything I can to help and encourage my daughter and step-children. They know they can trust me and they confide in me. That is something I never expected when these two families merged. It’s also something I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. 

I worry that the birth mother of my step-kids will try to use this against me and that’s why I’ve been reluctant to publicly post about this before. She hates me and makes that obvious to the children. I have raised those children as if they were my own, loved and cared for them through thick and thin. I have given up a myriad of things to have teenagers in my early thirties. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat. They, along with my daughter, are the most wonderful kids I’ve ever known. This does not mean I define myself by them, or their achievements, but that I feel privileged to encourage them and be a mom to them. It also means that everyone, for the rest of my life, will tell me I look too young to be their mom. I’m shallow enough to love that.