I've always struggled with depression, when I care to admit it. I spent half my childhood in a fantasy world talking to the invisible people who weren't there, telling stories, dressing myself in words to make myself someone who I'm not. I never fit in, really, and I still find it hard to believe that I've found somewhere where I'm accepted, for better or worse.
And, especially when I'm home alone, I end up in this weird funk again. I've been feeling out of sorts all day, possibly because I haven't done anything. I know it's not good for me to stay in bed all day but I do it, and then I end up feeling out of it and moping. It's too easy to be lonely, especially when my sister is out working or with her boyfriend or something. My parents are away for the weekend, and I'm trying to be positive but not always successful at that. Add to that that someone had left a door open and the room was cold, making me more achy and miserable than usual...yeah.
If it wasn't a fast I'd be curled up eating cookies or chocolate, but I've eaten the last of my dark chocolate and don't have a car to get more! Oh well, it's not good for me anyway.
I can write stuff like I did the other night, but when it comes down to it I'm just me and I don't write stuff like that often. That post came from about a month or so of trying to wrestle out some stuff I still haven't got a handle on. And I still struggle with stuff even though cognitively I know what the truth it. Writing something and believing it all the time are two different things.
But that's ok.
Before I started work tonight I took photos of Mystery X, which I've put a few stitches in recently. Here you go:
The East house:
The South house:
The east house now has the pink chimneys done, and just needs the central chimney and the backstitching done :)
It's coming together quicker than before this time, or at least that's how it seems.